Your ears were touched with a mixture of frustrated whimpers, mixed with under-the-breath swearing. "What's the matter?" you wondered innocuously as you walked into the room, to be greeted by a familiar sight — Kiara trying to fit into clothes, to no avail.

"Oh!" she says. "Nothing, just trying to put those shorts on. Little bit of help here?"
You examine her quickly, as you like to do. It would definitely not be easy to even pull them on, much less close them, and that'd incur the risk of bursting at the seams, the imagery of which you totally did not enjoy. It wasn't supposed to be like this, though.

"Hold on, didn't you wear them, like, last month?"
"Sure did, maybe they shrank?"
"Or maybe you expanded?"
Kiara shot you a furious look. "Explain yourself immediately."
"How's the diet going, my love?"
"Swell."
"More like swell-ing."
"You sound like one of my coworkers, also I'm busy."
"Is that so? You don't mind if we do a check-in, right? How much do you think you weigh?"
"First of all, it's really rude to ask a woman these sorts of questions."
"Come on, you asked me to help you get in shape in the first place anyway. How's the diet going?"

The look on her face would have told you everything you needed to know, but you could already guess.

"Honestly! I don't think this diet is very good at all. I don't feel like I've lost anything at all - if anything, I might have gained some weight somewhere. I need to consult a dietician for sure, file a complaint maybe."
"I don't know if you've heard this", you said in a particularly snide tone, "but diets only work when you actually stay on them."
"I did stay on the diet though!" she said, furrowing her brow. "I wouldn't complain if I didn't!"
"That so? Would you mind explaining the Oreo wrapper I found under the desk today?"
"It was literally just one cookie!"
"Just one cookie?" You bob your head to the side. "Are you sure about that? I think there's a matching Oreo box in the trash. Empty. Family sized, it says on the box. Where do you think the contents of it are? Inside some kind of family?"
"I-" Kiara was at a loss for words. "I don't remember. I don't remember buying any cookies. I don't remember eating any cookies. I just ate one. I think. I'm keeping to my diet! It's just that your diet is garbage and you're garbage. My weight is fine though. I don't want to talk about it. Help me get dressed, I'm leaving."
"Kiara, how much do you weigh?"
"Seventy kilo. Please help me get dressed."

You stood up and dragged a scale from under the sofa. Truth be told, you rather enjoy watching her bend over and do it herself, but you wanted to show some authority for a bit.
"Step on."
"No."
"Come on, step on. You can take off your clothes to get the digit a bit lower, if you want to."
Kiara shot you a furious look, then stepped on the scale, pouting. The arrow, amongst other things, jiggled. Settled between a quarter of the way between two numbers. She glanced down, couldn't help it, and her eyes widened a bit.
"Seventy. Two. Kilograms. I don't know what to tell you. I've been working hard for your sake. You know I have a sweet tooth too, right? Yet you never see me eating deserts in the house, I don't want to be a bad influence. And what do you do? Eating as many sweets as you want. Not bothering to keep to your diet, not bothering to do daily weigh-ins for your own sake. You're probably not even exercising." You didn't bring up the exercise thing, just guessed, and were exactly correct from the look in her eyes. "Worst of all, you're lying to me. I can't imagine how to keep helping you from now on because I can't trust anything you say! Frankly, I don't know if you can be helped now. I'm considering giving up on you altogether. You're allowed one excuse and I'll listen to it, but it better be a good one." You suspected you were overdoing it a bit with the scolding, but her eyes were already wet. The guilt seeped deep inside her soul, now it's time to let some of it out.

She sat down on a nearby chair, hesitated for a second, played with a button of her jean shorts. "I- Fuck, I'm sorry, okay? I won't do it again, please forgive me."
"That's what you've said last time as well, I think. I'm not seeing why I'd trust you now."
Kiara bit her lip and stared right into your eyes. "Maybe we'll talk about it after you properly discipline me for this?"
You shrugged your shoulders. "If you think you deserve a punishment for failing to keep your diet, what do you have in mind?" You could think of five or six nice options, but you were interested in what she'd come up with. You quite enjoyed making her pick her poison, because she'd always go a bit too heavy on herself.
"Well..." Kiara stood up from the chair and pulled her shorts down to her knees, exposing her bright red underwear. "Since what got me in trouble is my fat ass, maybe a spanking would be fair? Once per kilo?" She turned around and grabbed her left buttcheek, lifting it up a bit.
"Actually, what got you in trouble today, miss, is your mouth yet again, but sure. Bend over."

Kiara leaned over the chair, putting her hands on the seat, exposing her unprotected butt within your striking distance. She was no doubt mentally preparing herself, but your first slap was purposefully very nice and hefty, drawing from her mouth a pained yelp, leaving a noticeable red handprint on her right buttock, and making your hand itch and buzz at the same time. "Lower!" you said.
"Sorry!" she was sure to quickly answer and dropped down to her elbows, exposing the underside of her butt even more. "Good girl." you responded and rewarded her left buttock with a symmetrical handprint, followed by five more slaps to each side, much weaker but still fairly hefty. Then you decided to take a breather and assess what you had to work with, grabbing, poking and prodding.

Kiara's chubby, soft butt has taken on almost a consistency of very thick pudding. It felt like a very nice cushion under your fingers, with more than enough give. You liked the "it hurts me more than it hurts you" bit, despite the fact that it wasn't true — as long as you did not overexert yourself, it was a fine and enjoyable pastime, and you could definitely reduce her to tears long before your shoulder gave significant signs of being too tired to continue. It was not difficult on a psychological level either - whatever reservations you had about hurting your girlfriend were easily overridden by the overall situation where she acted as your obedient property, and there was little doubt in your mind that she either enjoyed this on some level, or willingly tolerated it to make you feel nice, and both options were roughly equally arousing to you.
Either way, you could almost feel the frustration as she waited for you to finish playing with her butt and resume her punishment - which, of course, was part of the point. You couldn't leave her hanging forever, though, and - without warning - went back to teaching today's lesson, counting slaps in your head (thirty one, thirty two...), maintaining consistent strength and positioning, alternating between her slowly blushing buttocks. Your bird tried her best to maintain composure, and it wasn't until you got into the fifties that she made another sound, a soft moan that had very little to do with pain.
"What was that?" you inquired, absentmindedly running the tip of your finger up her inner thigh, which made her shiver a little.
"N-nothing."
You decided to take another short breather. "Are you sure you're not enjoying this?"
"No! I mean yes! It hurts and I hate it."
"Are you feeling sorry yet?"
"I really am, honest! I've been sorry for quite a while. plcinue"
"Sorry, what was that last thing you said? I couldn't quite catch it."
She sighed. "I said 'please continue'".
"Will do!" you said cheerfully, and gave another hard slap. That yelp was positively delicious.

When you got to sixty one, you started counting out loud, making her wince with every number. On seventy two she was breathing hard, waiting for your next move, which was quickly running a finger between her legs to confirm what you assumed to be true: yep, her bright red panties got really nice and wet. Excellent.

You gave her permission to stand back up, and she initially was going to stroll off, before remembering (and narrowly avoiding trouble, actually): "Am I free to go?"
You gave out an audible, forced chuckle. "No, of course not. Like I was saying, what really got you in trouble today is your mouth, dear. You volunteered for a punishment for not keeping to your diet, which was a very good decision befitting of a very good and obedient bird. (Kiara blushed at this remark.) However, that positively pales in comparison to the sin of using that pretty little mouth to lie to me, something completely different, which you're still guilty of. How will you apologize for it?"

Kiara sat down and immediately stood up (for obvious reasons), lost in thought. This situation was obviously uncomfortable for her. The relief she got after her bottom being tanned slipped right between her fingers.
"I am..." she fumbled though words. "I... don't agree with you at all."
"Oh?"
"I thought about it, and stuffing my face and then lying to you about it are two parts of the same thing, kinda."
"So?"
"So they need the same punishment, really. Seventy two slaps again."
"Is that it? Just the same thing again?"
"No." Kiara blushed some more, and ran her thumbs alongside her hips, hooking up the string of her panties, taking them down, slowly, closely watching the hunger in your eyes. "On the bare this time, please."

You sat down and touched your left knee twice, inviting her to climb over. Kiara preferred to take it over the knee, like a bratty child. Without further prompting, she arched her back in, appearing incredibly graceful from the side, and, more importantly, exposing more of her rear.
You rubbed your right hand between her legs, then took it out, confirming what was already obvious: a string of sticky drool between your fingers and per pussy.
"You lying little brat, you were enjoying this."
She was silent.
"What kind of punishment is it if you actually like it? Huh?" you inquired again, snaking your left arm right under her shirt, under her bra, settling your finger right on her stiff nipple after tracing the shape of her areola with your fingertip.
"Nnh..."
"What am I to do with you?" You grabbed her buttock with her right hand.
"Hhh..."
"What?"
"Harder... please... I need..."

Without further ado, you started laying it into her, focusing on the lower parts of her butt, on her upper thighs, serving a twofold purpose: her little shorts won't conceal the redness you marked into her, and, at the same time, for the next day at least, every time she sits down — and that attention whore job of hers requires sitting for hours on end — she's going to be reminded of this, of your hand, of you. She understood this perfectly well, and it drove her insane with shame and with lust. At the same time your left hand was playing with her breast, pinching her nipple, rubbing her areola, all sorts of fun stimulation to get her mind overloaded with a combination of pleasure and pain. She was promised seventy two slaps, but she frankly obviously wasn't going to get them exactly, since you weren't counting.
You were initially actually going to do a whole bit where she'd give you a BJ, something about her lying mouth, but she was getting ever closer to the edge, you couldn't waste your raging erection at anything like that. So when she started writhing in your lap after a barrage of hard, sound slaps, you picked her up to make her sit in your lap, face to face, pulled down your pants and underwear, grabbed her butt and guided her dripping wet pussy directly onto your cock. You were a bit tired by that point, so you let her do the rhythmic, exhausted motions against you.
You came right inside her, a little earlier than her to be frankly despite the best of your effort, but she wasn't finished, so she kept grinding against you, and when she was finally over the edge, you gave her a big hug and a kiss on the lips, sucking your orgasmic breath out of her mouth directly into your lungs, eating those delicious, delicious moans from your delicious, delicious bird.

When she came to, she awkwardly hopped off her lap and strode into the shower, with some discomfort, mumbling something about her outfit being stained. You briefly considered going after her, but decided against it. You went into the shower after she strolled out, wearing a towel and her eyes glowing, and after you came out she finished drying her hair and was putting on a different outfit. The shorts were the same, though. Really the exact same scene you've seen to start with. Bit of a timeloop situation.

"Help me put these on, c'mon." she said.
"Alright, exhale." you said, pulled her shorts on in one swift motion, buttoned down the front in two more and, of course, since her juicy butt was right at hand, gave her another slap in a fourth.
"OWWWW! Why would you do that for?! You know it'd hurt so much. You're so mean..."
"They wouldn't come on otherwise, that's the trick to them."
"Liar."
"Prove I'm lying and punish me."
"Maybe I will."
"Of course you won't", you said, kissed her once again and gently stroked her hair. "You're a good bird." You were positively addicted to her blushes at this point.

After Kiara went out the door, closing it behind her, you poured yourself some tea and grabbed the last Oreo wrapper from your bag — most of the contents of the box you've placed at convenient locations around the house, but that one is a special treat for you, to congratulate yourself on a job well done. Truth be told, you enjoyed her figure just as it was, and you enjoyed her behavior on the spectrum of the last half an hour or so — bratty, pensive, submissive, lusty, happy.
You took out your phone and started browsing the catalog of another candy store on the far side of the town. Oreos were a hit, but let's switch to something else. Perhaps Kiara will enjoy biting into some Butterfingers? Maybe. What you will enjoy is a riding crop, biting into her soft, round, perfect ass, her work of art, built by you.

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Pub: 03 Mar 2022 22:50 UTC
Edit: 03 Nov 2022 13:20 UTC
Views: 1453