by Shannon - around May, 1990
'Is anything wrong?' Matt asked, looking at me over the dinner table.
'Not really,' I told him, but he could tell I had something on my mind. I hate to ask but at the same time, I knew just what I wanted. 'Do you think I could get a spanking tonight?' There, it was out. I’d said it.
Matt didn’t seem surprised in the least, only a little concerned. 'For anything in particular, or just general horniness?' he said with a grin.
'Nothing in particular,' I said, blushing. Matt knows I like a little spanking for minor mistakes. It gets my mind off of them. Sometimes Matt says I have too high of expectations for myself. But tonight was just nerves, or, as Matt would say, general horniness.
Matt was still grinning. He loves to spank me as much as I love for him to. He also knows how embarrassing it is for me to ask. Suddenly serious, he asked 'Is a good one okay?'
I felt the lump in my throat I always get when I’m going to be spanked. I’ll admit I love it, but it still scares me a little, especially when I’ve been promised 'a good one.' I tried hard to swallow, and breathed out a little 'I guess so.'
'Great,' Matt replied, and laughed out loud. 'See, don’t you feel better already?' He was looking at me like he wanted to eat me up. I was still dressed in my office clothes, a sheer white blouse, camisole, and bra. Matt is infatuated with my breasts and any hint of sex has him staring and drooling. I love the way caressing my breasts and undressing me leaves him panting. For my part, though, I was thinking more of my tight black slacks and white nylon panties that would soon be disappearing under his hand. For some reason these slacks had had me thinking spanking all day. The simplest things, the most common words, had been giving me that cold grip in the rear and the warm spot in the front.
Matt started spanking me almost as soon as we met, eight months ago. We had been living together for about six weeks when one evening I told him about some mischief going on at the office. He was horrified that I had participated in it. He thought I should go to the woman we had victimized and apologize.
'Are you crazy?' I’d said. 'I’d rather be spanked.' I held my breath to see how he’d react to my long-standing secret fantasy.
'You might think so,' he retorted, 'but I must consider this a lot more serious than you do.'
I was in heaven, of course. Here I was, minutes away from acting out what I’d dreamed of doing for years. I just didn’t know how to keep it going. 'How about if I promise to stop and never do it again?' As soon as the words were out of my mouth I regretted them. What if he let me off the hook? Matt’s the nicest, gentlest guy, and I had given up all hope of ever turning my dreams to reality when I started seeing him.
Imagine my relief when he asked, 'What about the spanking?'
I didn’t want to seem too eager , so I told him I thought a little one would be okay, just as a reminder. I’m sure he knew we’d end up in bed afterward, so he was all for it. Just to make sure, he led me into the bedroom and sat on the very edge of the bed. As I dutifully followed him he lectured me on what a terrible thing office pranks can be and, even though he knew it would be difficult, how I must break myself of the habit. His scolding was turning me on more than you can imagine, thinking of the spanking it meant I deserved. Every word seemed directed straight at my rear and, by proximity, my front.
The next crisis came when we got to the bedroom. I had on a dress and full slip, and both sheer-to-the-waist pantyhose and cotton panties. Matt might, in his chivalry, try to spank me through all of these! None of them were very thick, but I was sure the effect would be greatly diminished, and when my eye fell on a hanger I had the solution.
'What should I do?' I asked naively.
'Lay across my lap. I’m going to spank you,' was Matt’s reply. His commanding tone was turning me on so much I wondered if he had somehow found out about my fantasy.
'My dress will get wrinkled,' I whined. 'Do you think I should take it off?'
'That’s a choice you’ll have to make.' I was right! He would have tried to spank me through all those layers. With a quick movement, I swept my dress and slip over my head. I knew Matt was ogling my breasts and getting turned on. 'What about these?' I asked, indicating my hose and panties.
'They’ll be coming off soon enough, I should hope,' was Matt’s reply. 'Would you remember any better without them?
'Can’t hurt,' I said, somewhat ridiculously. From that day forward, I’ve never heard that expression without wishing I was about to go over Matt’s knee. Facing him, I slid down my undergarments, giving him a little peek down my bra, which by now was all I was wearing. Trying to act modest, I scurried over his knees without straightening and offered him my bare bottom. As he lectured me some more, I was afraid he’d notice how turned on I was. He’d certainly noticed my nipples, and I was sure my wetness was at least as obvious. Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, he started to slap my upturned rear - but certainly not hard enough to hurt! He counted out a dozen light slaps onto each cheek and let me up. I was so disappointed I could have cried.
'So what do you think? Will that remind you to think of other people’s feelings?' he asked.
'What I think is that you’re treating me like a child.' I pretended to be angry, and I could see that he was about to start apologizing! 'Either I need a spanking or I don’t, but that wouldn’t have convinced a two-year-old.'
By this time Matt was totally confused, and I was about to break down and confess my fantasies to him. Here I was, standing in front of him wearing nothing but my bra, with a pussy that was red hot and a backside that was not! If I could just tell him what I wanted, I knew that I’d get it, and I really wanted to get it!
Finally, though, he asked me, 'Maybe you’re a slow learner. Let’s try again. Immediately I was delirious with happiness. I crawled back onto his lap making no attempt to hide the smile on my face. I gave out a little moan as Matt rubbed my cheeks.
'Apparently that little spanking didn’t make an impression on you. I’d hate to have to be having you back here tomorrow night (I’d have to think of another excuse was my only thought!)' And with that, he landed a real spank. I jumped a little but the next one was just as hard. He repeated the two dozen swats I’d just had, with the same rhythm, but there all similarity ended. I was all over his lap, trying uselessly to dodge the smacks. By the time he was finished, I was actually a little relieved - but incredibly turned on. Seeing me like this, I think he started to understand. As soon as he let me up, he pushed me back onto the edge of the bed and barely lowered his pants before diving for my soaking pussy. I exploded in orgasm, kicking and screaming, and he was right behind.
Later that night, we talked about what had happened and I told him how I dreamed of getting spanked any time I made a mistake. When he asked what I meant, I listed off everything from a fit of temper to a car accident, missing a deadline or forgetting a birthday. I admitted that, yes, I liked them hard - at least as hard as tonight’s and as frequently as I deserved them. I leaned over him and fed him my breasts and told him how I wished I could do something for him that turned him on as much as spanking turned me on, but he said that with as turned on as I got, he didn’t need anything else.
Since that night I get spankings all of the time for the littlest things. It does wonders to calm my nerves, and it keeps me from blaming myself for everything. Even so, there are some times when I feel like I can’t go another minute without one, and I have to ask for it. Matt’s always more than willing and likes to use these occasions to give my bottom a real workout. He knows the mixture of terror and passion I feel when I’m waiting for spankings like these.
As we finished dinner, Matt couldn’t take his eyes off of me. I could only interpret this as a sign of how fierce a spanking I was in for. We tried to talk about our day, but I couldn’t concentrate. I know Matt was imagining my breasts in his mouth and my bottom under his hand. I was wondering if I’d be able to sit comfortably tomorrow and how turned on I’d be when I couldn’t. Thoughts like these are nice when you’re finishing a meal, but at some point, you’re done. I tried to drag it out, but Matt, acting indifferent, made me get up first. He made me come over to where he was sitting and wrapped an arm across the front of my waist. My breast, with its hard little nipple, was practically in his mouth. He rubbed and squeezed the tight, smooth fabric of my slacks, which was just as tight in the front. Already I was wild and I knew we had a long way to go. A tiny, nervous part of me wanted to ask him to go easy, scared of how hard he was going to spank me. But the rest ached for everything I knew I was going to get, and Matt knew it.
Finally, Matt got up and picked up his chair. I hadn’t really expected it this soon - sometimes he makes me wait almost until bedtime. He carried his chair into the living room and set it right in the middle of the room. With one hand on the back of the chair, he turned to me and said, 'I’m going to need the hairbrush for the kind of spanking I’d like to give you.' He said it as simply as a doctor or a mechanic requesting a tool, which turns me on as much as anything. As if it’s nothing to him that he’s sending me to fetch the very instrument he’ll use to blister my backside.
With another nervous swallow, I managed to run into the bedroom and get the hairbrush. We’ve had several, and each one seems to spank a little harder than the last. Matt insists that I use the same one on my hair as to be spanked with, so that I’m reminded every day how much he enjoys spanking me. Believe me, it works. I’ve asked for more spankings while or after brushing my hair than I can count. Still, he delivers a ferocious spanking with it, with no regards whatsoever for my squirms and squeals.
I hurried back with the hairbrush because he hates for me to dally, which I have a tendency to do. By the time I get back, Matt’s sitting bolt upright in the chair, facing the couch, because sometimes I like to fantasize that I have an audience. He takes the hairbrush from me as emotionally as he requested it and tucks it behind him. I sit on his lap and wrap my arms around his neck. He tells me how glad he is to have this chance to paddle me, really paddle me. He cups a breast in his hand and rubs my right nipple with his thumb.
'Have you had a hectic day?' he asks. I tell him about all the little things that have me stressed out, while he just sits, rubbing my nipples and kissing my neck. All my problems seem so small, which really they are. As I get toward the end of the list, though, that knot in my stomach returns, along with that icy-grip feeling on my rear. When I start repeating myself, he says, 'Would you turn over now? I’m really looking forward to spanking you.' I do as he says and lie across his lap, still fully clothed. Matt rubs my bottom again and tells me that, in a minute, the spanking he’s going to give me will make me forget about anything else. This kind of talk, especially the matter-of-fact way he always says it, has me beside myself with both excitement and fear.
'You’ll need to take these off, please,' he says, and lets me up for a moment. I quickly shed my pants and return to my former position, this time protected only by my panties. Matt reaches between my legs where I’m as wet as can be. He rubs me firmly from my vagina to my clit, and we both know I can’t take much more.
'Would you like an orgasm?' he asks, meaning, and skip the spanking? Once in a great while I say yes, and we make a run for the bedroom. But he doesn’t make me say 'no.' All I have to do is grit my teeth and keep quiet, and in a moment I’ll be getting spanked.
My bottom is cool one last time as Matt slides down my panties, after being hot all day from clothes and thoughts. He reaches across my back and holds me tightly in place with his arm. Finally! I’m almost relieved to be getting it over with. Soon I’ll be in bed having one orgasm after another, followed by days of getting turned on every time I sit down. Matt slaps me hard, almost as a warning of what’s to come. He gives me a second to think about his first two spanks, and then begins his steady spanking. I’m so embarrassed to be squirming already, while he’s only warming up. I imagine the reddening of my bottom as he spanks it, hard, low, and wide. I know perfectly well what he’s doing and would prefer he go on forever rather than stop, but just as I think this, he does. I feel him reach back for the hairbrush and now I’m really squirming, begging him to go easy, both secure and petrified in the knowledge that he won’t let up one bit. He’s saved the whole middle of my bottom for the hairbrush, knowing how this terrorizes me. After what seems like an eternity, he says, 'Now, let’s see what I can do for you.' With that, he smacks me hard with the hairbrush, low on my cheek, near the divide. An instant later a matching smack burns my other cheek. I’m so embarrassed to be spanked there, and combined with the pleading, fright, and pain, I burst into tears. And he’s just started! Smack after smack come down and I know from long experience that I can’t get away. I kick my feet and pound my fists on the floor, but Matt keeps his hold on me. He’s reddened every spot I could possibly sit on, and most of them several times. He spanks me directly over my asshole and I’m so embarrassed that I could die. The whole time he lectures me, about not being hesitant to say when I need a spanking, and how convenient it is that I love to be spanked like this and he loves to spank me like this. He keeps asking me to try and hold still, which of course is impossible. Finally, when he says seriously that if I don’t hold still till he’s finished, he’ll have to make the spanking longer, I think I’m going to come in his lap. I try to hold still, knowing it’s hopeless, which is what he says.
'You’re hopeless. I would have been done by now. Now you’re going to have to learn your lesson.' Like I haven’t learned everything I’m going to by now! Somewhere he finds a hidden reserve of power, bearing down for these last swats. He’s loosed his grip so that I can flail all the more, trying to crush my clit between my legs or grind it against the first hard surface. The least vestige of decorum has long since gone out the window and I’m screaming for relief, front and back.
Then, suddenly, he stops. He continues to hold me across his lap until I’ve settled down enough to take into the bedroom. He stands me up and gently slips my panties to the floor. He’s still fully dressed, including his tie and office wingtips, while I’m half-naked, barefoot, and too horny to move. If I hadn’t had the spanking, I’d be crying from horniness. We run to the bedroom, me first so that he can admire his handiwork, and he sheds his clothes as quick as he can. I kneel down and take his hard-on in my mouth, but it’s a quick kiss before he lifts me to the bed. With me lying on the edge, protective of my blistered bottom, he is the one that kneels. The touch of his mouth and hands at once is too much for me, and I finally get my orgasm. He leans back, pressing the heat of my buttocks against his thighs as he enters me. I love how he slams into me, driving so deep inside of me. It seems like my orgasm never stops, like it started back there at the dinner table. When he shoots into me we just lay there, quivering. Now it’s his turn to lie back and I straddle his chest. Each time my cheek brushes him I think I’m going to come again. Slowly, I unbutton my blouse, from the bottom up. Already his eyes are wide, he’s licking his lips, and his breath is coming in shallow pants. I slip off my camisole and bend over him as I reach behind myself to unfasten my bra, while he opens his mouth in expectation. I hold him behind the head and he suckles my breast, and as I think about the spanking I just had and all the things he said, I start on another orgasm. Sliding back, I feel him hard as a rock again. I rub him against my clit to come, my nipple still in his mouth. I collapse on top of him in orgasm, and he slides back into me. He rolls us over and pins me to the bed, oblivious to my aching rear, pounding into me over and over.
Later, he strokes me gently and rubs my bottom with cream. For days I’ll be thinking about nothing but the lovemaking I’ll get when I get home. As he always does, he asks, 'You really loved that spanking, didn’t you?' And I answer him truthfully, 'You were perfect. It was perfect.' He knows my fears and embarrassments, and how I love to have him exploit them. He knows how I hate to ask, hate to admit beforehand that I love it. He knows how I love to have him lecture me, deaf to my pleas and scornful of my excuses and rationalizations, when at all other times he is so tolerant, gentle, and understanding. He’s known all these things since that fateful night eight months ago when we laid in bed and he said 'I guess you’ll need a spanking before work tomorrow to remind you to behave.'