Home For Lunch, or Diane's Difficult Class Part II

(short, M/F Erotic Discipline - fun) Diane’s testing schedule continues.


Home For Lunch
by Matt - December, 1994


“You’re early!” I can hear Diane’s heart racing in her voice.

“Juggled a few things at work, created a little time,” I tell her as I take her in my arms, pull her to me sideways. Arm around her waist, I lean in for a kiss. Her apprehension is amusing and understandable.

“I don’t have anything ready... ”

“You don’t need to.” My fingertip slips up under the edge of her t-shirt to the waistband of her panties. I run my finger across it like I am rubbing the rim of a fine crystal goblet, work it in and find the point of her hip, racing back just a little lower. I bend and place a kiss just below her navel, her t-shirt tickling my nose. Straightening, I turn her and she pirouettes like an obedient ballerina, my hand smoothing her waist like clay being molded into a vase. It slides possessively, directly, from the small of her back down into her panties. I cup one lovely cheek, lifting, weighing, squeezing. My lips are on her neck, nibbling, tasting.

“Sore?” I ask innocently.

“What do you think?” comes her reply.

I slide my hand up out of her panties and swat her - hard.

“Oh,” she complains briefly, deserving it. My hand captures her other cheek - rubbing, squeezing, holding from different angles. Owning.

“I know what I think, I was asking how you feel.” I remove my hand and position it well behind her. “So. Sore?”

“Oh so sore. You didn’t have to spank that hard.”

I pat her firmly for this complaint and turn her to me. Her hands automatically go around my neck. Each of my hands claim a cheek and I press her into me.

“You know I did. Five per point under 85. Have to keep my promises, don’t I?”

“Nooo. I was good. I tried. I got help like I said I would and I had no tantrums. Isn’t that good?”

“I’ve let you off too easy too many times,” I tell her as I see-saw her panties down over her hips. “Have to be strict once in a while. But you’ve been pretty good.” With a wriggle she sends her panties to the floor.

“Pretty good?” she pouts. “Only pretty good?

My hand comes up and cups her breast, fingertips encircling its soft plumpness. I draw them all together, toward the nipple. Her tummy races inward and my arm, behind her, presses us more tightly. I stretch my back, lifting her slightly, robbing her breath from her.

“And what is this?”

“Huh?” she snorts in mock disbelief. “I can’t ever wear a bra anymore?”

I kiss all around her ear and whisper, “You know our rule. Not when I want you.” More nuzzling and finger-tipping before I go on with “I think you need another spanking.”

“No way.” There’s nothing fake about her disbelief this time. She pushes herself away, far enough to look at me. Not too far, though. I rub her breast with my palm in a large circle, then cup and lift the right one. I pinch the material between the cups with my thumb and first finger. Diane’s torn between relaxing into it and refuting my argument... not that it would help.

“Matt,” she protests, with a note of real panic, “you just spanked me. And you spank too hard. And... ” She hangs her head and doesn’t go on.

“And,” I finish for her, “you have another quiz coming back real soon, do you not? If there is ever - ever - another bad one, I want you thinking from the start. Five a point. And panties off before you leave the school - you can put them in your purse. None of this wait-and-tell-me-when you‘re-darn-good-and-ready.” My fingers on her bottom make her jump. She pouts in nearly silent protest.

“Sigh,” she tells me.

A sharp pat brings her out of it.

“Go get the lotion,” I tell her, almost turning her loose. I hold her with one arm and run my hand over her brasserie once again. “And lose this someplace.”

“The lotion?” she asks with the cutest smile. I have to kiss her.

“Have to protect this skin of yours, it must be getting tender,” I allow, before sending her off with another sharp smack.

The family room is quiet for once, television off, no one running through... either Diane picked up a few things or got the kids to do it - I’m betting on the former but in any case the couch is inviting and relaxing. I sit near the middle, feet flat on the floor.

Diane reappears with our favorite bottle in hand, nicely nude, smiling. Which of these makes my heart flip? I’ve narrowed it down to two... lie down, I tell her, indicating the couch and my lap with a sweeping motion.

She pillows her head in her arms and shifts a little anxiously, which I can appreciate - mmmm, appreciate from two perspectives. Some of her bottom is sore and a bit of it is very very sore... I put a squirt of lotion on my hands and rub her shoulders.

“In a hurry?” I tease. “Turn over. Mmmmm, no, keep your arms up over your head... ” There is something so appealing in this pose, her back arched over my thighs, displaying her breasts so perfectly... her head up on the arm of the couch, tilted toward me, her thighs so nicely under my right hand as it sweeps back and forth. I press my hand flat against all of her soft spots - she’s never lost her self-consciousness at this but I persist, I enjoy it too much. I cup, squeeze slightly, hook my hand around her leg and just hold, pull a little, hold. Mmmm, she should have lovely skin with this lotion.

I avoid teasing her too directly at first, touching her everywhere, leaning and kissing and raising up again... but I can only wait so long. My hands start at her neck, move down between her breasts, under, around, up and down over the tops, spiraling around her nipples, drawing them farther and farther from her chest... I draw them out, again and again, now my kisses are shared, her lips don’t get them all. One hand moves downward, the other underneath, covering more and more of her as she relaxes into her pleasure...

But time is passing, I break my mouth from hers and barely need to speak, she turns over and, hesitant as she may be, pushes her bottom up to me. I slather it in lotion, especially at the base of the curve where she got so much of the paint-stick last night.

“Tender?” I ask her as I rub her at her sorest spot, an inch-wide stripe above her legs.

“Yes!” she insists. “You didn’t have to put so many of them there!”

“Half - that’s the rules.”

“Your rules.”

“My rules ARE the rules,” a sharp smack reminds her. “At least I warmed you up - I didn’t have to, you know.”

“I barely remember those, they were so long ago. Were any of them warm-ups?”

I’m massaging her thighs, in back, high, inside. Maybe where she is truly her softest.
“Now, today’s spanking... ”

“Oh?!?”

“Yesssss... .”

“Matt, not there - I’m too sore. You can’t spank me there!” Instantly all of her relaxing has been reversed.

“Not down here?” I tease. I rub her deeply with the tip of my middle finger.

“Ohhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh,” she whines and clenches.

“You’ll have to spend some corner time. Are you willing to spend some corner time?”

“What kind of corner time?”

I push my hand firmly down between her legs, pressing, massaging the muscle on the inside of her left thigh. “I think you know,” I tell her as the back of my thumbnail brushes against her, oh-so-lightly. She gasps in stages - ah ah ah ah.

“I could... ” she admits.

“How much?”

“Maybe a lot,” replies her giggle.

“Don’t be greedy... ” I warn.

“Maybe I am greedy... ” the smile in her voice matches the wriggling she’s doing across my lap.

“Greedy girls get spanked... ”

“Mm hm - they have to be,” she admits.
When I first start spanking her, not too hard, she throws her head back and doesn’t make a sound - just the rhythmic smack-smack-smack of her bottom under my hand. Soon I can hear her take in her breath through her nose as she tries to keep from saying anything, her wriggling stiffens and her back arches... she’s up on her elbows, her hands making fists. I avoid that lowest inch, like I promised - I’m a little surprised how much that restricts me, I tend to favor an up-from-below swat for variety, especially right in the middle. I’ll have to use that paint-stick with her bent over sometime, so she can be more grateful when she’s over my knee - depends what she does on the tests, I guess... her head ducks into her arms and her hair hides her, my left hand strokes her back, between the shoulders and onto her right shoulder and up next to her neck but even though I don’t touch her breasts or see her face I know she hears me as I tell her, a reasonable voice expressing unreasonable rules, that when I want her she is under no circumstances to be wearing a bra and when she does she can expect to be spanked - she was in too much trouble last night to do anything about dinner time but I’m not always going to let it slide, I say... even though I’m spanking lightly she is so sore that she’s really reacting, I’m convinced it’s genuine - though I can only ease up so much, you still have to have a little spank in your spanks... the way she’s squirming I know her brow is furrowed and her jaw is set, her bottom is so tense but I’m sort of doubting that it does her much good...

I reach quickly for the lotion again and rub her deeply... she gasps and arches again and stiffens from head to toe but tries to relax into it.... I work quickly, both where I spanked and below, grabbing, squeezing, pulling her buns toward me. She’s good about not reaching back, she’s learned that lesson - either I do it or it doesn’t get done...

“Corner time... ” I whisper suddenly and she jumps up, trying to be good, half abashed by my chastisement, half happily mischievous... she runs to the corner with those little below-the-knee steps, her hands locked to her sides, head down...

“Like this?” she calls, hoping to be contradicted, and I accommodate her...

“Diane. Don’t be silly.” She peeks over her shoulder at me. “I’ve seen this side of you,” I tell her as I approach her. “Turn around,” I say, gently, expectantly.

She looks toward the ceiling.

“Oh boy,” I hear as I kneel in front of her.

“Greedy?” I ask. I feel the inside of her thigh against my shoulder and neck.