Tushy - Carolina Sweets - Obedience · No Ads

“Yes, sir.”

By twelve, tears blurred her vision. By twenty, she was whimpering, but she never said red . Each number was a gift she gave him—control, trust, her own pride laid bare. Tushy - Carolina Sweets - Obedience

He gestured to a low table beside him. On it rested a wooden hairbrush and a small glass of water. “You will crawl to me, drink this water without using your hands, and then place yourself over my knee. No hesitation. No words unless spoken to. Do you understand?” “Yes, sir

Again. Harder. “Two.”

The crawl was slow, deliberate. Her silk dress rode up, but she didn’t stop to fix it. When she reached him, she leaned forward and drank from the glass, lips finding the rim, water spilling down her chin. She didn’t wipe it away. That would be a hand. He gestured to a low table beside him

Then she draped herself over his lap, heart pounding. The first swat of the brush was sharp, startling—a red bloom of heat on her silk-clad rear. She gasped but didn’t move.