“Oh, you’ve been a naughty boy, taking advantage of me like that for your own pleasure,” Marcy teased me once she could think, let alone speak, again, “ready for your punishment?”
“Sure, why not? You’re in charge for now, right? That was our deal and I agreed to return to your captivity when the shower ended, after all. I’m a man of my word,” I winked and teased her back, though not prepared for what came next, as she got off the sink and had me bend over it.
“Good, because it’s time for a bare-bottom spanking!” Marcy laughed, slapping my ass with her hands, gently at first, though it still stung.
“Ouch!” I let out, as it really did hurt.
“Oh, come on! You got hit by shrapnel in combat! Surely, that swat was tame next to that!” Marcy urged me to keep taking my punishment.
Marcy swung yet again, and then again, each time connecting with her hand on my defenseless bottom, as I refused to put my hands there or try to block the blows. She could be relentless, ruthless even, as she smacked my booty several more times, each time really making it hurt more. She was right that it was tamer than the pain from my war wound, one that required the use of morphine to hold back the agony. It didn’t even turn me on, but I submitted to it nonetheless, taking my licks as per our deal. Marcy just kept striking me, losing herself in the excitement of the moment for a bit, and then suddenly stopping with a scream.
“Oh, God… oh, God, what have I done? Oh, please, don’t move. Let me… do something for you! Oh, baby, I’m so sorry!” Marcy told me, sobbing as she began kissing the stinging area.
The next thing that I knew, Marcy’s kisses were followed by her tongue along the crack of my ass, as she rubbed my cheeks to soothe away the pain. She kissed and licked my buns again as well before returning to my crack, alternating her self-appointed tasks of easing my agony and suffering. I felt her tears fall on my butt, too, which was truly weird. Most of all, she did everything in her power to cool down the hot, blinding pain of the many swats that I had endured at her own sore hands.
“Oh, I’m so… sorry, bro! We can stop this now, since I can’t be trusted not to do you real injury, babe! You’ll still get your rights to me, too. I’ll do whatever you ask from now on, I swear, just please forgive me! I forgot how easily you bruise when spanked! Please, forgive me!” Marcy implored before I stood up and hugged her tight against my body.
“Shhhh… it’s okay. It’s just my skin. I’ve always bruised easily and it always looked worse than it really was, much worse, in fact. I’m gonna be fine, okay? Don’t cut this short, sweetheart. This is your fantasy. Live it out. Get it out of your system. In other words, PURGE, okay? You’re still in charge until two thirty this afternoon and I mean it. That was our deal and I’ll keep my word, as a man of honor should,” I encouraged Marcy, as she cried on my shoulder and I cradled her a little just then, “you didn’t really rape me and you know it. It hasn’t been rape or kidnapping, not since I cooperated with you. You didn’t abuse your big brother, either, trust me. I’m a big boy. I can take care of myself.”
“Thank you, bro. This means more than you could ever know, Jules, you doing this for me, for us,” Marcy assured me, taking me by the hand and leading me to the kitchen, where she started making us a very early breakfast, as it turned out to be about 4 am by now.
“I can guess, anyway, but just remember, at 2:30 pm, pronto, your sweet ass is mine, and it’s going to stay mine, capice?” I grinned at Marcy, making her visibly shiver.
“Promise?” Marcy licked her lips in feverish anticipation of serving me.
“Naturally,” I smiled, as we began to dig into the grits, bacon, and eggs that she made for us, “wow, these grits are better than I even remember Mom’s being! Don’t tell her I said that, of course. Can’t hurt her feelings like that. What did you do with them?”
“I added my own special flavor to it,” Marcy pointed to her pussy, indicating that she had added her own juices to the grits.
“Wait, if I’m supposed to be your slave until this afternoon, shouldn’t I be cooking for you?” I wondered now, a bit taken back by that, while still sitting uncomfortably and making Marcy cringe every time that I winced from the pain.
“Maybe if I hated cooking, but I adore it, absolutely revel in it. Besides, no offense, bro, but while you’re no slouch in the kitchen, I’m nearly a five-star chef and you know it!” Marcy bragged about her culinary skills, adding, “in fact, I’m quitting college to go to culinary school, but don’t tell Mom and Dad that. It’s my job to do that! I’ve decided to hell with pre-law. I want to cook for a living. It’s my true passion.”
“I KNEW IT! I just knew that you’d tire of that other crap and just follow your heart into what you’re meant to do, which is cook! Babe, you’re a truly awesome cook and I don’t doubt for a second that you could be an executive or even celebrity chef if you put your mind to it. I mean, hell, you could be on Iron Chef America, easily! Hey, maybe you could mentor me… I have some talent. Not on your level, but why not?