It's over

Jonathan doesn't bother himself with words. Rather, he leans down over me, grabs the thong wrapping my bottom, and wedgies it up. Alas, he is strong enough to lift my ass and force me onto four legs. The fabric of my underpants gapes inside my pussy and deep hole, dispensing woeful pain; a shriek of pure misery escapes from my mouth. Once I get prone, Jonathan releases my pants and grabs a strand of my hair, pulling me through the room. I can see very little except the floor, but I notice that we stop by the table. Jonathan climbs over me and locks my neck between his calfs; it feels like a constricting pincer. He is taking something from the table....when I hear the sound that it makes and get what it is I scream. "Jonathan don't!!! Don't cut my hair....", "Why not?", he asks, making the scrissor clicking again, "Congratulations...you fight like a man, so it's time to look like one...", "Fuck you!! "You won't dare.." I scream back. "You are the alpha woman, the wannabe Kill Bill... get free by yourself," he says with a smile. But I can't do that, and we both knew it. The guy starts cutting my hair short, while I moan spitful words and try to slip my head out of his grip.

Of course, my struggle is in vain, and I can only stare at his feet watching as my locks rain down. Finally, he sets me free and moves away. My hand rises to run through the new, forced hair comb. "Nooo...how...how I'm supposed to explain this??", I whine. "Your problem, lady; you've been warned," he says with a smile. I clinch my fists, but I don't dare to raise my glance. "Let me go...I learned this lesson young man...", "In your dreams...get up!", he orders. I immediately comply. Jonathan grasps my only cloth and swiftly takes it off, revealing my most intimate parts. Instinctively, I cup my hands around the pube. "You have bested me... this was just a stupid wrestling challenge... let me go... I could do anything in return..." I sigh. He shakes his head "I perfectly know what you could do...and you will...but I won't let you go afterwards".

The guy grabs my earlobe and pulls it so roughly that I cannot help but yell again. I'm walked by the giant through the room, then upstairs, and the pain is so intense that I realize where we've been heading only when we are there. "No...not in my beeedrooom...", I beg, "Why not? The master bedroom sounds like the perfect place to sort out our differences...". The pain in my ear stops only when I pass the doorstep. Jonathan strips naked and throws his pants' on my husband's pillow. The man's erection is impressive and the body surrounding it just perfect... I've never felt so much lust and fear at the same time before. The guy walks forward and gets his hands on my nipples; he overwhelms me, and we fall on the bed together. "I'll make you my bitch on your husband's bed" he says. I know that at this point I should have only accepted my destiny, but I fight back instead, following the voice of my pride shouting from a deep cave inside my soul.

This is what the sadistic bastard was expecting to give his final, terrible lesson. I fight like a wild animal, screeching, biting, and inventing scrissor holds that I knew would never work. But if I am an animal, Jonathan is a different beast. He cleverly grapples me and holds me under his weight until my legs are wide apart and my head is twisted to one side. I am too weak to even understand how he is twisting me like that. The guy pinches my nipples and pussy, while I lose contact with reality. Am I begging him already? I don't know... yes, that must be my voice, a pathetic girlish squeal of misery that entreats to be spared. I turned upside down, and my belly landed on his knees. We are one bed's edge. A muscular leg lands on my head, and a painful percussion shakes my bottom. And another one. And another one. I finally understand. Of course...he is spanking me...this is what men have always done to insubordinate women, and this is my destiny now. "Jonathan..I apologize...I..never meant to test a man like you," a stupid voice screams, as the man's overwhelming force continues to bashing.I raise my head the little that the weight of his leg allows, barely aware of the salty tears blurring my sight My eyes meet a picture of me on the wall. Wait...is it really me? Oh no...I think, almost smiling. That picture was of a young, powerful woman in her kimono, not a naked slut who was secretly enjoying being spanked by a hunky guy. "Silence!", I scold myself, talking in my mind, "The man is speaking..." And he was speaking indeed.