Old Affairs & New Found Lovers

Chapter One

Chapter One

Kyle’s pretty brunette bride stood in front of his desk with an adamant set to her finely curved jaw.

“I’m not going!” Brett announced.

She was so charming when her temper flared, Kyle thought with amusement. Her dark eyes brightened with an animalistic flurry, they would soften in an instant; though right now they could be intimidating to someone that didn’t know her.

“I thought we had it all worked out,” Kyle answered back, smiling.

“You know how I feel, Kyle, this is a personal matter,” she implored him.

Of course their spanking fetish was a personal matter, but he also knew his wife and business partner very well.

“It’s just your nerves, darling. These last two weeks have been harrowing; we both could use the break. Do we have to go through this again? I thought I’d heard all your arguments.”

“But a spanking party?” Brett winced as she said it. “It seems so . . . so sleazy?”

Kyle chuckled. “You’ve always wanted to go to one. How many times have we fantasized about having an audience? How many times have you implied that you’d like another man spanking your bottom while I watched? I can’t think of a safer and more exciting way to get everything you want. Besides, we’ve been over this, Phillip Heath’s parties are the best. Private, classy, away from it all. Perfectly discreet. Listen, I just talked to him today; he has quite an agenda lined up. We can participate in as much as we want, or as little. We can do nothing but watch if you want, see if it appeals to you.

Kyle could tell by her expression that Brett was digging in for a full-fledged protest. He sometimes loved her like this—it added lots of sparks to their relationship—but it could also get exasperating.

“Brett, we need a break, and this is just your cold feet getting in the way.”

“You really think it’s what we want?” she continued to hedge.

“Playful, fun, how can we miss? You know Phillip and Janice. Take a chance!”

“A chance? I take chances every day of my life.” As private investigators, Brett’s statement was quite true. And the two had taken quite a few chances in the last two weeks.

“A different kind, a safer kind,” he reminded her.

“But. . . .” Brett’s face was still scrunched up in a petulant childish way, her voice beginning to rise into a whine.

“If I didn’t know you so well, Brett,” Kyle said, “I could be accused of pushing you, but you know as well as I do that you want to go.”

“But . . . .” she tried again.

“Maybe you need a reminder,” he said sternly. “A few good smacks on your rear should help your memory.”

“Oh not now! We have a client due in fifteen minutes.”

“Just enough time,” Kyle announced. He’d made up his mind. “Go get the paddle.”

Kyle kept a ping pong paddle at the office for just such occasions. It hung on the wall with other sports equipment: two wooden tennis rackets, a polo mallet, a baseball bat, all pleasant reminders for Kyle of his college days. As part of the innocuous decoration, the ping pong paddle took on a very different purpose when Kyle saw fit. Sometimes, when he didn’t have the opportunity to use the paddle on Brett’s rear because they were in the midst of business, he’d just lay the thing on her desk to remind her of what was going to happen when they got home.

The tension in her now was horrendous. Brett wondered if a good spanking might serve a useful purpose, despite the fact that it came at a very inopportune time. Deciding to relent, Brett pulled the paddle off the wall. She hated the way it would sting her rear but she had to agree, her peevishness had certainly earned her the trip over his lap. Returning to her husband’s side, the brunette pouted nastily.

“You’re too pent-up, I can see that,” Kyle advised her. He knew she’d be peaceful as a lamb when it was over, and for that she’d be grateful for this brief interlude.

“Pants down,” he ordered.

“That too?” she whined.

“C’mon now, we got over that two years ago,” Kyle reminded her.

The two had been into spanking games almost from the beginning of their remarkable relationship. In fact, spanking was what turned their business partnership into a romance. They had each inherited Longchamp Investigations from Kyle’s father. The assertive Brett Holland had worked for the elder Longchamp for several years when he suddenly died. To everyone’s surprise, he willed his business to his son, Kyle, who then lived three states away, and Brett: a fifty-fifty deal. The two had no idea what “dad” had in mind giving each half the agency since Kyle and Brett had never met, but they always suspected that there had been some matchmaking in the air.

The trouble was, at the beginning, Kyle and Brett were like two bulls in a china shop, each stubborn, arrogant and self-serving, if you asked their opinion of the other.

To Brett, Kyle was usurping her, descending on a business he knew nothing about, trying to pretend that she didn’t matter. To Kyle, Brett was too aggressive and far too pushy “for a woman.” That antiquated attitude incensed the savvy detective to the point she had to keep from spitting in her partner’s face. Dozens of times, she wished that Kyle would simply sell his part of the agency, or go away and let her do the work she was well-trained to do.

After three months of trying to work together, Kyle had a problem: he was falling in love with Brett, and that irritated him to no end. And Brett’s problem was that for the first time in her life, she was fantasizing about a man, Kyle to be specific, that would love her, take charge of her, and send her loins surging at the sound of a command.

It was quite a fluke one day, when in the middle of one hellava verbal war, Brett looked into Kyle’s flashing brown eyes, and saw something that made her almost jerk back with fear. There was a determination written in his expression that gave her a familiar, but very unwelcome, tingle. They were standing face to face and far too close for comfort. Brett could feel his domineering presence surround her with its imperious aura.

“You know what you need?” Kyle roared.

“What!” Brett shouted back.

“A good spanking!”

“What?” she roared back.

“You heard me!” he answered immediately.

“You boorish, chauvinistic, backward, infantile, arrogant ass!” she charged, realizing what he was really suggesting.

Kyle merely smiled at the litany, his anger seemed to have suddenly vanished as he became very calm. Once having made his decision, he had no need to be angry anymore. Taking Brett by the wrist, he shoved her over the edge of his desk, picked up a ruler that was conveniently sitting there, and gave her bottom a dozen spirited whacks.

Brett had been too dumbfounded to say a word, though by the second dozen whacks, as Kyle appeared to be getting into a real rhythm, Brett regained her senses and was protesting madly. Yet, for a fiercely independent woman, who could, without much struggle, overcome a man Kyle’s size, she didn’t pitch an all-out battle to get away. By the time Kyle laid on the third round, Brett was subdued. The flurry of spanks then diminished, though their passions were still soaring.

They had s*x right on top of Kyle’s desk that afternoon, and were from that moment, much more than sparring business partners. Their spirited disagreements did not stop that day, though often they ended just like this one had, with an enthusiastic adventure in corporal discipline.

Now pushing her pants to her knees, Brett presented a naked bottom to her husband, and his ping pong paddle.

Sometimes he took her over his lap, other times he enjoyed the moment having her bend over a chair; for this occasion it was over his desk, reminiscent of their first time. Too bad they wouldn’t have time for their favorite activity afterwards. Nonetheless, Kyle decided that this was the best thing for both of them.

“Please, don’t make it hurt too much,” Brett pleaded.

“Oh, c’mon now, that’s the point. A good burn on your butt will do you lots of good.” The ping pong paddle came down on her bottom with one firm smack.

As much as she wanted to cry out, Brett knew she had to remain somewhat discreet in their office—the sound of the paddle against her bottom was bad enough.

Another smack on the other rear cheek and Brett could hardly stand the instantaneous sting. In what had to be one of the quickest flourishes—time was of the essence—Kyle ripped off a good two dozen more, each firm, hard and blush raising.

“Oh gawd!” she moaned. The burn was fierce.

“You need to remember how much you love this, my darling,” Kyle said.

“No, I don’t,” Brett instantly retorted.

“You will afterwards.” The paddle continued, steadily and evenly.

“Then let’s stop now,” she grunted, accepting another two.

“Oh, you want to quit too soon.” He laid one right on the very middle of her bottom.

“Gawd, Kyle, I can’t stand this,” She squirmed as if she was going to get away.

“You’ve stood much more,” he reminded her.

“But our clients,” she moaned in a none-too-quiet whisper.

“Oh, wouldn’t that be fun, let them know you’ve been a “bad” girl.” Her bottom was glowing red. Kyle smiled seeing Brett’s lovely round cheeks as bright as the blush on her flushed face.

“Kyle please!” she spoke sharply, trying a direct demand.

Just like that first time Kyle spanked her, Brett could have wriggled away, but that was never part of the game—she always remained in her place no matter how hard the spanking got.

“Ouch! Damn! Stop! “ Her cries were becoming bolder, despite her desire to contain the noise.

“That should do you for a while,” Kyle said at last. “But I am going to spank you more tonight,” he advised her. He laid the paddle on the desk and moved in against his wife’s backside, slowly grinding his groin against her fiery ass.

“Sure did get you aroused,” Brett said, noticing the hardness in Kyle’s pants. Her warmed bottom was making her hot.

“Always does, honeybun,” he purred, kissing her along her neck. “So, what about the party?”

“Oh, let’s go,” she replied, moving with him in an erotic tango. “You don’t suppose we would have time to…”

Her question was interrupted by the sound of the outer office door opening and closing.

They groaned together. “Guess not,” Kyle said, reluctantly pulling himself away from his wife.

“You’d better cover your ass,” he suggested. “I’ll go meet the clients.”

He winked at her as he left the room, watching Brett struggle to make herself presentable again.