Anna and Her Dog – Part 4 – Conclusion – by Mark Cepillo
Her note read as follows:
“Mi querido Rogelio—each time I receive a gift from my ‘secret admirer’ I imagine that it comes from you. Still, if it is so, I am deeply puzzled, for I know you must disapprove of my conduct with the innocent men whose lives I’ve disrupted. Indeed, I am a mystery to myself, and my guilt is as profound as my inability up to now to change my behavior. Here then, is my wish—please punish me as you see fit, and then do with me as you want…I am yours.”
I found her in the bedroom, sitting on the edge of the bed, face buried in her hands. I had to practically pry her hands open before I could kiss those lips that had filled my reveries for months. When she started to stammer something I put my fingers to her lips, feeling that this was no time for talking, and quickly turned her over my lap.
She was quiet now, only sighing as I slowly slipped her skirt up to reveal the thong I knew would be there. The sight of her voluptuous buttocks, essentially naked and turned up for me so invitingly, was more intoxicating than the rum I had consumed that afternoon.
I began by scolding her, and I meant it—I reminded her of my friend Magdalena, who became so distraught after Anna lured her lover away that she withdrew in the middle of the semester and returned to Puerto Rico. The things I told her she already knew, but hearing it from me, in that vulnerable and exposed position, seemed to have a strong effect on her. She began to tremble slightly, keeping her face hidden from me so that it was impossible to tell if she was already crying, and all she could say was “Yes, Rogelio,” in an uncharacteristically soft voice.
Then I began to spank her, but not like the playful spankings I had sometimes given those former girlfriends who took such delight in provoking me. I spanked her purposefully, hard and rapidly, as a husband might spank a wife found gambling away the rent money, or a father with a teenage daughter arrested for reckless driving. It was with a feeling of great satisfaction that I felt her defenses starting to crumble, and before very long she was crying openly in what must have been a moment of profound catharsis for her. She no longer turned away from me, and seemed to be not at all embarrassed that I could see large tears tracing their path down her beautiful face.
We had been so focused on the moment that I do not believe either of us had heard Fidel’s incessant yapping during the entire duration of the spanking. I let her up then, with no clear idea of what would come next. Anna, however, was much clearer. She locked Fidel in the bathroom and went off to compose herself in the other room, returning with two tall cuba libres. She sat on my lap, apparently having lost none of her taste for taking the initiative, so that I could feel the warmth of her buttocks on my legs. We began to kiss passionately, after which it seemed very natural to spontaneously turn her over my knee again.
This time the tone was completely different. A subtle but unmistakable squirming of her hips told me that it was time to remove her thong, which slipped easily over her pink bottom. In another moment she was gasping and moaning, her derriere rising rhythmically to meet the palm of my hand—in short, a romantic spanking, segueing smoothly and inevitably into the most intense lovemaking of my life.
So that is how it began, two years ago, although it seems like yesterday. As for tomorrow, it is not easy to say. Anna wishes to return to Nicaragua someday soon, so we have a long road before us, and the most complicated and difficult part of it is only just beginning.
Oh, you ask, what did I write in my envelope on that fateful day? I leave that to your imagination.
The End
(Mark loves comments and feedback on his stories : Zorro7usa @ yahoo.com.)
