Chapter 6: I'm Going to Spank Your Pussy Until You Remember...

Continued from chapter 5:

Layla writhes and sobs uncontrollably as the ruler cracks against her tender flesh, each stinging swat sending shockwaves of pain and twisted pleasure through her body. Drool dribbles from the corners of her mouth around the wadded panties. Tears and snot smear her face as she shakes her head frantically, silently begging for mercy even as her hips push back, seeking more of the degrading punishment.

Through the haze of agony and ecstasy, she begs and pleads through her gag, but since I can't understand her, I smile and keep spanking her. Finally, I relent, rubbing her back through the satin of her dress and her burning bottom, feeling the heat rise in waves as she sobs, collapsing against the desk.

As her tears subside, she looks back at me—mouth still full of panties, eyes puffy, face shining with tears. She's a picture of purity, innocence, and humility. It breaks my heart what I'm about to do to her, but she really needs to be broken in completely. She needs to fully come to terms with the week she's about to have.

I help her, trembling, to her feet and remove the sodden panties from her mouth. She hiccups and shudders, breath coming in short, ragged draws as she hugs me tightly, clinging to me like the last life preserver from the sinking ship that used to be her life. I hold her, savoring my victory, her humility, her neediness. I gently separate her from me and hold her in front of me, gripping her chin.

"Layla, do you still not know my name?"

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Layla gazes up at me with tear-filled eyes, her lower lip trembling. She takes a shuddering breath, trying to compose herself despite the residual pain and overwhelming emotions coursing through her. When I grip her chin, forcing her to meet my gaze, she flinches slightly but holds steady, determined to answer honestly.

"I...I'm so sorry," she whispers hoarsely, her voice raw from crying. "Can you tell me what it is? We could start fresh, you know. As boyfriend and girlfriend..."

She looks up at me hopefully, searching for mercy but finding none.

"P-please," she says, her lower lip beginning to quiver. "Please tell it to me. I want to say it. I want to shout it. I want it to be the name that makes my heart leap for joy, the name that I surrender to. Please...please tell me your name."

Even as she says it, uncertainty flickers across her face. She bites her lip, realizing the gravity of her earlier cruelty and the precarious position it has left her in. She leans into my touch almost unconsciously, craving the comfort and reassurance even as a part of her recoils from her own desperation.

"No," I say. "Not yet. I've got one more thing I want to try to see if I can get you to remember. And if you can't, then...then I'll tell you. But it will cost you. If I give you the gift of my name, you will pay dearly to know it. Do you really want me to tell you, or do you want to go another round with the ruler while you try to remember?"

I reach under her dress and feel her hot, slick sex. My fingers brush the soft curls of her pubic mound, dusted with fine dark hair and damp with dew. She squeals and blushes deeply.

"Yes, oh yes, Layla," I say, my voice dropping to a dangerous whisper. "I'm going to spank your pussy until you remember...unless. Unless you want me to tell you my name for something much, much worse."

Layla gasps and squirms as my fingers brush against her most intimate area, a jolt of electricity shooting through her core. She flushes deeply, equal parts aroused and humiliated by my bold touch.

At the mention of spanking her there, her eyes widen in shock and trepidation.

"No, wait!" she pleads desperately, pressing her thighs together instinctively. "Anything but that. I...I think I'm ready to try remembering again. Just give me another chance, please."

She takes a deep, shuddering breath, steeling herself. She meets my gaze with a mixture of fear, determination, and reluctant excitement.

"Tell me what you want me to do," she says. "I'll do whatever it takes to earn your name and your forgiveness. My reputation, my future...it all depends on this."

"Nope," I say flatly. "No deal. It's either a pussy spanking, or you choose option B, which will be much worse for you. I assure you of that."

I give her soaking wet pussy a gentle spank with my hand, relishing the sloppy squelch and the whimper of pleasure she gives me.

"What will it be, Layla dear?" I ask. "Do you want to play another round of guess my name while I spank your pussy, or do you want to go straight to the grand finale? All I can say is, if I have to tell you my name, it will be much, much worse than a simple pussy spanking. I grow bored of this. Now make your choice before I do both of them to you."

Layla whimpers and trembles as the spank lands on her sensitive folds, her hips bucking involuntarily into my hand. The obscene squelch of her arousal fills the air, making her face burn with shame. She bites her lip hard, torn between the terrifying unknown of "option B" and the degrading but somehow less frightening prospect of another round of guessing games punctuated by pussy spanks.

"O-okay, I choose...the guessing game," she stammers out, her voice small and frightened.

"Please, just tell me what you want me to do. I'll follow your lead, no matter what."

Layla braces herself against the desk, spreading her legs slightly in submission. Tears prick at the corners of her eyes once more as she awaits my instructions, her heart pounding wildly in her chest.

"I need you to lie back on the desk for me, Layla," I say, my voice steady and commanding.

"I need you to be a big girl, a brave girl and lift your dress for me. I need you to bend your knees, put your feet flat on the desk for me, and spread open for me. I need a nice target."

To be continued in chapter 7...

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