“You like it, don’t you?”
“I love it, Mistress Melissa. Please keep beating me!”
“Oh you don’t need to worry about that!”
Again the paddle whistles through the air and strikes me, then again and again and again without stopping. The pain in my bottom climbs constantly, yet still I can’t get enough of it. Being beaten by a beloved female authority figure fills some unexplainable need in me, satisfying an insane craving I’ve been harboring for over a decade. Even when my grunts and groans become whimpers and moans, and finally uncontainable cries, I can’t get enough of it. At last, after perhaps fifty swats on the ass, I cry out “Mercy, Mistress Melissa! Please have mercy on me!”
“Mercy!” she hisses at me incredulously. “I’ll give you mercy, you impudent little s**t! I’ll give you the m
