Do we really need an excuse to spank me? I crave the feeling of your palm against my ass. The warmth of that impact from your strikes. The warmth it causes all through me is so delicious that I can’t see how anyone can hate it. That sharp sting followed by that beautiful tingle that runs through your body. If you are like me and like it really intense. As in I love to be marked. You can feel those reminders of that play session for days to weeks afterwards. I love to strip down and see the dark red, purple, and yellow bruises across my ass. Love the dull ache of pain running through me every time I put pressure on them or sit on them. I even love it when you cum up to me and run your fingers over them. It feels so magical, all those nerves aggravated and sensitive. Even your fingers brushing across my ass in jeans is enough to make me shiver and giggle at the same time. So mark me up, hit me until I cry, and then watch me mark up and fuck me while I’m bruised. I’ll never cum as hard as I do when I’m marked up and the only way to get to that point is to fucking just hit me already. Do I need to say it? Those silly words that shouldn’t be the reason you strike my ass. “I’ve been a naughty girl… I need a spanking Daddy.” There, I’ve said it. Now spank me fucker.
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