Big Book of Spanking I

Chapter 6

Sitting in a deck chair at one end of the boat, he demanded her “front and center”.

“What,” she answered him sleepily, her head just barely rising from her blanket where she was stretched out at the bow of the boat.

“Amelia, now.” He didn’t raise is voice. He didn’t have to.

Realizing what he intended, she pulled herself up quickly, unaware that the top of her bathing suit was unfastened. He didn’t like to wait. She felt a rush inside, that uncommon flood of excitement pouring though her. But this time in what seemed a “public” place she was all the more aroused, and definitely a little more frightened than usual. Here in broad daylight, just the possibility of being seen taking her punishment... and naked too!

She gazed around warily, noting that the cove was still deserted except for their craft. Being a weekday afternoon, there was little likelihood that anyone else might maneuver into their private scene.

“Don’t worry yourself, Amelia, there’s no one to see.”

She gulped, facing him, her eyes automatically lowered coyly. He seemed to be enjoying her surprise and shyness. Appreciating her beautiful body, her bare breasts and pert pink n*****s, he wasn’t about to commence too quickly.

“I thought this would be the perfect place to teach you a few manners. You’ve been awfully bitchy all day.”

He was right. “I’m sorry,” she said a little meekly.

“Bend over,” he ordered. And, as she had done before, she bent over his lap, his strong arm guiding her, making certain that she didn’t back away. He wasted no time, removing her last little garment, her swim suit bottom. This was the first time he’d spanked her when she was completely naked and that in itself was exhilarating. The first crack on her bottom was hard.

“Ouch!”

“Quiet,” he suggested, “or you just might attract a crowd you don’t want, and I won’t stop if you do!”

The second and the third, and a dozen blows followed. She could feel the warmth rising all about her. She could feel him rising too, there beneath, inside his pants.

Squirming and wiggling as she always did, she continued to protest, though this time with less volume, deathly afraid that her cries might be heard by a passing boat, and she’d have an audience to witness her embarrassment. Before long, however, as his slaps continued to rain down on her behind, she forgot about where she was, letting the joy of the sensations flood her with wonderful delight. Before long, Michael was kneading, not spanking her bottom, his hands squeezing her sore mounds.

He soon turned her over and nearly naked himself in just his swim trunks, they were furiously locked together. They slumped to the floor of the boat, and spent the next hour making love, as the sun set around them. A slap or two on her red behind, occasionally rendered, jolted those spanking sensations back to life.

This was no doubt one of their finer moments, such inspiration. Michael was a wonder!

Now, in the restaurant, staring into eyes that could be so cold and so hot at the same time, she recoiled at the idea of an audience. But he looked serious about it, and she figured that it wouldn’t be long before he’d live up to his threat. “Eat your meal,” he suggested.

“I’m not hungry,” she answered.

“Suit yourself,” he answered, diving into his own with easygoing relish. Of course! He had nothing to dread, nothing to worry over, he had everything all planned. He almost seemed amused by her nervousness. She couldn’t remember waiting so long to feel his hand on her rear, once it was clear what his intentions were. He’d played with her, toyed with her, teased her mercilessly, but this... this was more than she could imagine.

When the lunch was finally finished, they entered the elevator once again, stopped on the seventeenth floor and made their way through his busy office.

“I should have you working here,” he whispered in her ear, “so I can keep an eye on you.”

They were passing a desk were four busy women were pouring over some spreadsheets. They looked up curiously at their boss and his friend.

Inside his private office again, he unceremoniously pulled the armless chair from the side of the room, but instead of sitting down, he then moved to his desk. Reaching inside one of the bottom drawers, he pulled something out.

She gasped.

“I found this at a little shop a few blocks from here, they have some wonderfully conceived leather. Don’t you think?”

She looked at his hand in horror, gazing at a narrow paddle. She’d talked to him of leather, wondering what sensations it would produce in her different than his hand. Not that she didn’t thoroughly enjoy the feel of his hand, but there was something sumptuous about the feel of leather and the thought of it applied to her rear. She’d always thought someday he’d simply remove his belt and whack her a few with that. But this! It was at least eighteen inches long, two inches wide and stiff enough not to droop in his hand the way a belt or strap might. It had obviously been designed for one thing, and one thing only, to be laid across the rear of some submissive lady.

“Do you like it?” he asked, watching her carefully, his eyes taking in every little twitch, every expression on her shocked face, and every bit of surging energy pounding through her already aroused form. He liked gazing at her with tension mounting, part of the luscious tease.

“It’s, it’s… startling,” she stammered.

“It is, isn’t it?” He always planned his little surprises for her very carefully, to maximize the moment.

“I was imagining when I bought it how lovely it would be to lay this across your posterior, to see it redden those delicious mounds of yours. I suspect it will give you sensations you haven’t had before.” A lock of his neatly styled hair had fallen to his forehead, as if he’d already begun her trial. His dark set eyes peered out in mock inquisitiveness and held her frozen before him. She yearned for him to take her, sweep her into his arms. She yearned for kisses and tenderness, but not until this instrument had been well laid on her bottom, not until she was in tears and panting, and crying out for mercy, ready for s*x.

Moving to the chair, Michael sat down.

“Turn around and pull up your skirt,” he instructed.

She obliged, for the moment the little gesture was a welcome relief.

“Ah, the garter belt and stockings frame my target nicely,” he said, and without further adieu he pulled her to him and forced her over his lap, her naked rear perfectly centered. She pictured him gazing at her white flesh, imagining how his blows would turn her skin from pink to blushing, red, to a deep purple.

He allowed the paddle to rest on her quaking cheeks. It was surprisingly cool. She could smell the earthy leather fragrance. It seemed an eternity waiting, her body pulsing with anticipation, fear and wonder, trying to figure how much this spanking would hurt, and how long it would hurt thereafter.

Smack! The first blow came down.

“Ah, nooooo!” she squealed, the sting was different than the sting of his hand, the pain was worse.

Again and again he worked the leather over her bottom.

Her mind was reeling with a thousand feelings and thoughts. It was the same as his hand, but not the same. It was deeper, more intense, less personal, but thrilling nonetheless. Soon, she could think of nothing but the profound sensations of his repeated blows.

She moaned deeply, squelching her cries for fear of being heard. Her bottom burned, and where he’d already struck once or twice, it was becoming more and more painful, yet the pain was priceless… she rocked on his lap, then writhed on him in a mix of glee and hurt, that without thinking brought tears and whimpers. This was everything she needed it to be. And so engaged in her own glorious torment, she was only barely aware of Michael’s arousal beneath her bouncing body.

“Oh, oh, please,” she gasped into the unrelenting air.

The blows came down, her flesh bounced, her cheeks flamed with red. From top to bottom, from side to side, he gave her the complete treatment, not one inch of her fair bottom would go ignored.

Her ass was searing hot, and though it seemed he’d never stop, he did.

Abruptly. His warm hand replaced the leather, not with more punishment, but with tender welcome massage. Eager, her s*x aroused and wet, she waited for him to finger her between her legs, for his gentle hands to heighten what was all ready clamoring inside her. But before she could catch her breath, he pulled her to her feet, rising himself as he did. She watched amazed, as he replaced the chair, ran his hand through his mussed hair, and sat down at his desk.

Her skirt still half raised, she was hardly recovered.

“You look so beautiful, Amelia, you always do afterwards,” he said softly, with a look of affection crossing his face. “You need this to keep you peaceful.” He allowed her silence, knowing that there was really nothing to say, the sensations still traveling through her were rich and brilliant.

“I’d love to see you standing in the corner for an hour or two showing off your lovely bottom, but alas, I do have work. And don’t you have an appointment?”

Yes, of course, she thought to herself. How can he return to the real world so quickly? Where’s the fine ending where they make love? Where all this aroused and crazy energy can be put to some use, where she can wrap herself around him, and with him inside her they come to some fine finale?

“I know, you’re thinking we’re not finished, but for now you’ll just have to endure until I see you this evening. I’ll be at your apartment at eight for a little refresher. Now, I suggest you get yourself together, we both have work.

He was very kind, but it was obvious that her session with Michael was over. His denial of any further “fun” that afternoon annoyed her. Though she wanted him all the more, she resigned herself to waiting, knowing that in the end, he’d cool her well flamed s****l fires.

After all, his sweet mastery over her was the very best thing that had ever happened.

He came to her at eight that night. She still felt the soreness of her bottom—that delighted her. She loved the lingering sensations, the tightness, the little bruises when she looked in the mirror. It reminded her all day long of their relationship, and the terrific tension that made it wild with passion.

He kissed her at the door, her body shivering head to toe. He unbuttoned her blouse in the kitchen, and left it lying on the floor. At the doorway of her bedroom, he lowered her skirt and squeezed her tender rear.

Smack! A hand came down on her bottom with a determined slap.

“Ow,” she protested. “Again?”

Amelia looked at his devious smile, as his mouth and tongue descended on her lips and mouth. His hands continued to squeeze her bottom, giving her an occasional slap.

“Ohhh!” Her hips moved against his, and she could feel his erection growing. Every time he squeezed a cheek, she exploded with lightening energy. She reached below and stroked his hard c**k, still covered by his pants. Rapidly undoing his belt and zipper, she pushed his pants to the floor and began playing eagerly with his stiff p***s. She wanted it between her thighs, and could hardly wait for that inevitable jolt when he entered her.

Falling back on the bed, Michael pulled her on top of him and slipped himself inside her warm, moist puss. She danced on top of him, with her hips and thighs grinding against him as his hands roughly kneaded the round globes of her ass.

Smack!

He delighted in reminding her of their earlier session with the leather, though this time it was for their mutual pleasure as he felt her body surge with a delicious jolt of heat each time his hand hit the mark.

“Ooo, Ohh, Ahhh.” She was building to something special, all the teasing, all the play, all the holding back was suddenly erupting into her loins. She lost herself in the splendid sensations and her c*m began, rippling from her p***y to her thighs, to her stomach and over every little pore of her inflamed body.