"For Your Sake"

— For You

They had already been dating for several months. She was 18. A pretty brunette with brown eyes, a dazzling smile, not very tall, with a rather impressive bust size for her age, and a very firm, appetizing butt that always showed through the tight fabric of the jeans, pants, or short skirts she wore. Strangely enough, at 18 she was still a virgin. She was just about ready to give her innocence to her beloved. But the guy didn't pressure her. He knew she needed time.

On this warm, sunny summer day, they planned to go for a walk as usual—first to the city center, then

to his place to cuddle a bit. He had long since been under her blouse. And more than once had slipped his hands under her short skirt. He knew she got wet from just one of his kisses, and also that she adored wearing thongs. As was tradition, he went to pick her up at home. He always picked her up right at her apartment door and walked her home right to her door. It should be noted that her parents were old-fashioned and raised their daughter strictly. Especially her stepfather. She ran out to him on the stairwell landing, kissed and hugged him. Her stepfather peeked out from behind the door and sternly warned her not to be late again and to be home exactly at 11:00 PM... or she'd get the belt. He said it as if joking. The door slammed shut and they finally melted into a sweet, hot kiss. He pressed her back against the wall of the entranceway and, continuing to kiss her, lowering his hands, couldn't resist squeezing her tempting butt through the short, tight black fabric of her skirt. Then, holding hands, they ran laughing down the stairs.

After walking around the center, they came to his place and, alone, began kissing passionately on the couch. She was wearing a beautiful, lacy white sleeveless blouse made of thin silk, with a sexy neckline, the pendant he had given her along with small earrings, a tight black mini-skirt just above mid-thigh, quite short, black high-heeled shoes, and black transparent something—either tights or stockings. But knowing her taste, he had no doubt they were stockings. She loved being accessible. So she always wore only stockings and thongs under her indecently short skirts. She loved to seduce and tease, but not give in. She always resisted when he tried to get under her skirt, but it was always a pretend resistance; she adored feeling his palms on her firm butt. Especially when she sat on top of him and they kissed. Yes, she was a virgin. And she always got embarrassed when he pulled his erect cock out of his jeans, especially at the moment when she was sitting on top of him. She blushed every time as if seeing it for the first time, but then would start intensely rubbing against him with her crotch, covered only by the damp fabric of her thin panties from her own juices. It should be noted that she had never once allowed him to get inside her panties. But touching through them—and they were always thin—she allowed. That's how they satisfied each other. Her on top, him underneath. She dances sitting on him, he squeezes her butt under her skirt, covered only by miniature panties, until they both reach a natural finish.

And this time was exactly the same. First, she sat next to him on the couch, hugging. She looked at him in a special way; he knew that look. It was the look of a hungry female, trembling all over with excitement.

He: You need to get home on time today, or your stepfather promised to tan your hide with a belt.

She: Yeah, he promised. But... I'm not too worried about it. — She said, looking at him with the same hungry, lustful gaze, climbing on top of him, causing her already short skirt to cling to her curves even tighter, riding up even higher, revealing the lacy tops of her black stockings and the edge of her butt.

His hands slid over her thighs, from her knees to the place where her firm, girlish hemispheres peeked out from under her skirt, and squeezed them hard. She sighed languidly, closing her eyes and slightly tilting her head back as she sat on him. As always, she was in a thong, which hugged her firm cheeks, perfectly fitting the size of his strong, large palm—the kind any guy who had done professional rowing would have.

Her butt is so firm, a real nut, and so nice to hold onto, — he thought, holding onto the most tempting part of her body.

She herself began unzipping his fly and pulling out his friend, who had long been too cramped in there. She looked slyly into his eyes.

She: I'm not too worried about being late today... Scared me, huh... with a belt... not the first time... I'll endure it. — She said, smoothly starting rotating movements with her hips, transitioning into a kind of dance on him.

He: So, not the first time, was that not a joke?

She: Of course not!

He: But you're already 18?

She: So what? Do you think 18-year-old girls don't get their butts tanned with a belt when they misbehave?

He was shocked.

She: Oh, come on... it's nothing, nothing to be embarrassed about... I see how turned on you are by this...

He: But you're already 18?

She: Yes... so what? The last time I was whipped was half a year ago... and I was already n then.

He: Can't be...

She: Don't believe me?

He: No.

She: Well, do you want... we'll be late on purpose today? And I'll get punished... Mmmmm?

He: Well, if you can get punished, then better not be late... you don't want... — here he swallowed, feeling his throat go dry and a pleasant tickle in his chest, and the next words came out in a voice slightly hoarse with excitement — for your whole rear to be decorated with belt marks?

She: Who told you I don't want that? Maybe I want to be whipped... like a schoolgirl... a minor... — Between words, she breathed intermittently, continuing to rub against his impressively sized, protruding cock with her pussy, covered only by panties soaked through. — for you, mmmm? Do you want me to endure this whipping... for you... be late on purpose... — the pauses between words became longer and her breathing more ragged, her voice trembling slightly. — I'll bring the belt myself... go to the armchair, remember the one in the middle of my room? The one with those big armrests... and I'll slip my hands under my skirt... pull these panties down to my knees... lower them... — Here, in the pauses, she began to moan softly, greedily catching air with her slightly parted lips, and the pace of her pelvic movements became less fast but more convulsive, pausing each time before a new strong thrust forward, all while looking at him languidly in the eyes. — lie on my stomach over the armrest... arching... at the waist... my feet will be on the floor, and my body will be positioned between the armrests... I'll stick my butt out like a cat... and slowly pull my skirt up... what's more, I'll try to silently endure all the blows... from a thick... leather... heavy... soldier's belt on my butt... and I'll do it for you, want me to?... Why are you silent?

He: Well, I don't know...

She: Be braver... you want this... I can see...

He continued to knead her firm flesh, and she slowly began to stroke his cock and rub it against her wet panties. She rose slightly, clamped his cock between her strong thighs, and began smooth movements with her pelvis. It must be said she was excellent at this, as she had been doing belly dancing for several years and knew how to drive him crazy with it.

She: Well? So what... what are you thinking about now? — She asked, continuing her dance and drilling into him with her languid brown coals, eye to eye.

He: Well, just trying to imagine — Now his voice was trembling too, and he breathed raggedly between words. — how an 18-year-old girl... like you... will be whipped by her stepfather with an officer's belt on her butt.

She: What's there to imagine? I'll go to the armchair, slip my hands under my skirt, pull my panties down,...

He interrupts: But wait... Why? They don't cover anything anyway.

She: So what? My stepfather always said that a girl should always feel ashamed during a whipping. Panties pulled down, specifically not taken off but lowered to the knees, a skirt pulled up, symbolizes that you're going to be whipped. Specifically not naked, but half-naked. Moreover, to make me more ashamed... they always tell me... to spread my thighs slightly... shoulder-width apart. — She finished her story, plunging into a kiss with him.

She: Want to see what it will look like?

She silently stood up, walked over to an armchair similar to the one in her room. She walked slowly, swaying her hips, stopped by the armrest of the chair, threw a sly look over her shoulder. Her eyes sparkled, she slowly slipped her hands under her skirt, pulled her panties down, lowered them to her knees. He was so stunned that he didn't even think about the fact that this was the first time he was seeing her without panties, moreover, she had taken them off in front of him herself.

Then she lay with the lower part of her stomach on the armrest, arching her body between the armrests, arching her back like a cat, spread her thighs shoulder-width apart, grabbed the edges of her skirt, and began slowly pulling it up, revealing to his gaze the tops of her stockings, then the edge of her butt and finally her entire butt, with wet, swollen lips between her firm and slender, spread thighs. Having pulled it up to her waist, she folded her arms on the other armrest in front of her and lowered her head between them. She looked amazing. He imagined the belt now descending on this round, firm butt, presented upward for punishment, of such an adult and submissive girl—woman. In this pose, she was incomparable. He had never seen her so sexy. Her submission, meekness, and at the same time her stunning figure drove him crazy. He saw the moisture glistening between her thighs.

He: Uh... does your stepfather see that you're all wet?

She in a quiet, languid voice: Yes, he sees...

He: And so?

She: Very often I get extra for that... with the buckle... then stars from the belt burn on my butt for several weeks. And even if I don't get wet there... my perky breasts always give me away... my nipples just harden at the mere thought of being whipped. And I can't do anything about it.

She got up from the chair, pulled up her panties, sat him in the chair, stood with her back to him, pulled up her skirt, which had already managed to fall back down, higher, and began rubbing her butt against his knee, against his protruding cock, driving him to madness.

She: So, do you want her to be punished today... for it to burn... last time I was only 15 minutes late, and I got 30 strokes, two strokes for every minute... how long do you want me to be late today?

He: Well, I don't know...

She: Tell me.

He:... What if it's 25 minutes?

She: 50 strokes! Don't you feel sorry for me?

He: You're the one who said how much you want.

She:... Okay... I'll do it for you... do you want this?

He: Yes, I want it.

She: Agreed... and tomorrow... we'll meet again, and I'll show you... the marks... that will remain, want to?

He: I want to.

She: And I'll bring that belt they used to whip me with.

He: What for?

She: So you can see what they punished me with... well... and who knows... maybe out of solidarity you'll also want to show... what you're capable of for me.

He: Meaning?

She: You don't guess... naughty boy...

He: You're planning to use it on me...

She: Yes... exactly... whip your butt... only, if I, a girl, got 50, then you, as a man... should get no less than 100. — She said with a slight smirk and a sparkle in her eyes. — it will hurt a lot, I have a heavy hand... I didn't tell you... I've already whipped... one boy... he was madly in love with me, I was basically in love with him too... I didn't let him, like I let you, get under my skirt, but he tried. Once I got tired of it and said I was leaving him... he begged me to stay... I said I would punish him then... I whipped him only 20 times... he cried like a girl already after 10 strokes... aren't you afraid to disgrace yourself like that in front of me... that's five times more... mmmm? — She asked, pressing his cock tightly between her cheeks, continuing her belly dance on top of him. His hands reached for her breasts. Her nipples were indeed sticking out, insanely hard.

She: Like it? — She asked, placing her hands on top of his. — well, anyway, you know, as you wish... I definitely intend to endure this whipping for you today... all 50 strokes... with a heavy leather belt on my butt... and you... as you wish... I'll bring the belt tomorrow... or you know... a belt is still more suitable for disobedient girls... and as for strong boys like you, if you're going to be whipped... then with a thin hazel switch... yes, it hurts a lot.

He: Have you ever been whipped with one?

She: Yes, whipped, last summer at the dacha... and not in the house, but on the veranda... lying with my chest on the table and my thin sundress pulled up to my waist. That was the first time my panties weren't taken off during a whipping. And although they were too flimsy to protect against the burning kisses of the hazel switch, they at least somewhat covered, if not my butt itself, then my wet pussy from the young boys who were gawking at me from behind the neighbor's bushes. But that didn't stop them from seeing everything else in minute detail. I was so ashamed then, I bit my lips to keep from screaming, to lie bent over the table under the rod with dignity, to remain an adult in at least some way. But with all that... I got so aroused just from the thought that they all could see, hear my moans, see how my body shuddered with each new stroke, how a new scarlet stripe swelled on my already formed womanly butt, that I was dripping down my thighs... and I got extra hot ones for being lustful. And the boys heard what I got the extra for and giggled stifledly somewhere in the distance behind me.

Well?.. so what?.. if you want, I won't bring the belt tomorrow, you prepare some switches for yourself, there's a lot of hazel growing around here. Anyway, as you wish...

He walked her home. They were exactly 25 minutes late.

He: Okay, I'll go, I don't want to hear you scream.

She: For your information, I'm already a grown girl, and I endure a whipping silently... no matter how much it hurts. And today especially, I'll bring the belt to my stepfather myself and ask him to punish me for being late, two strokes for every minute.

They kissed, he lowered his hand onto her firm butt once more, gave it a light slap, she smirked, rang the doorbell, and disappeared. He stood under her door for a long time and listened... But nothing was heard. Absolutely nothing. He went home. And although he doubted the truthfulness of today's dialogue about the belt and 50 strokes, it still excited him insan