Needful

laments-and-burlesque:

Gliding across her vulnerable flesh, there came a hard firm strike;
the first of many. She let out a delicate trill.

Each swat caused the burning sensation to grow more intense, forcing her to
cry out in the most profane language.

By the fourth or fifth wallop—who could say? she was losing count—her
whimpers had become sharper, piercing… louder.

Why did she love this so much? Why didn’t she want him to stop? She began
squirming, her breathing syncopated and vigorous

Uttering a word she never thought she would, she looked back at him with
pleading eyes and begged:

“More.”