Master baiting

I pivoted on my left foot, slowly circling, while he followed around me. In his hand was the small wooden paddle, an implement he knows I hate to love. My bottom, sore from the prior night's earned switching, was already ablaze this morning from the rapid succession of spanking over his knees. First it was the paddle, then his hand, and now again the loathsome paddle, which I managed to hide but was found -- too quickly.

Is this 'defiance'? I wondered, as a gurgle of laughter escaped my lips, both hands covering my tenderized sit spots. And how long can I pivot away before he catches me or before I decide to abandon this game of ours? Surely if he used force, decided to wrestle me to the floor and over his lap, this would end and I'd be, literally, a sore loser. Surely he's enjoying this game of "keep away" as much as I am, despite the challenging look that must be in my eyes.

We remained like that for a few minutes, dancing slow circles in his bedroom, each measuring the other's next move, before I relented and allowed us our prize. Keeping with the spirit of playfulness, he took me, laughingly, over the bed and administered sporadic, yet resounding, spanks to my derriere as I kicked and wriggled.

Ah, the euphoric feeling of playing with someone is an incomparable pleasure. Maybe next time I'll stick my tongue out and see how long it takes him to catch up with me, my red bottom jiggling as I run and hide behind the couch.

Yes, I'd say we've arrived at a new level of fun and games. I hope he's loving it as much as I am. And if not, oh well. I think we all know what he can (and will) do about it.