by Cara Bristol
He claimed her lips in a gentle but possessive kiss. Under his tender onslaught, she melted against him, and her tension drifted away like jacaranda blossoms on the wind.
It rushed back when Dan squeezed her ass hard and broke off the kiss. “Let's go inside,” he said. Emma's stomach lurched. She snagged her purse from the chair on the porch where she'd deposited it and led the way inside her house.
Spanked woman walking. She pressed her lips together to smother a spate of nervous giggles.
Dan shut the door with a soft but final-sounding click. The hairs on her nape prickled with awareness. A single lit lamp cast the room into shadow, leaving the corners hidden in darkness. Playing for time, she slowly stowed her purse in the foyer closet.
"Well,” she said with false brightness. “How do we do this? Is there enough light? I can switch on more lamps. Do you want to do it in the living room? What do you want me to do?"
Dan gently stroked her face with the back of one finger. “You don't have to do anything, Emma. I'll take care of everything."
Every cell in her body danced with trepidation and excitement, the latter in a professional way, of course. The knowledge she gained from being spanked would promote her story from merely good to wow! She would pay close attention to what she experienced so she could accurately record the details later.
Dan engulfed her hand in his much warmer, stronger one and led her to the sofa. The oxygen froze in her chest, making it difficult to breathe.
As he stepped about her small living room, switching on lamps, she perched on the arm of her sofa, swinging one leg. When the room was illuminated to his satisfaction, he approached her. “I'd like to use a hairbrush I noticed in your bathroom drawer yesterday."
"Oh!” She widened her eyes. “I assumed you would use your hand."
"I will to start with."
A freak storm rolled in, sucking the air from the room and spiking the temperature. Her mouth parched like the Mojave Desert in August, but moisture drenched her southern region.
"Whatever you want,” she said. “You're in charge."
Dan disappeared down the hall, and Emma pressed her chilled hands to her heated face. Had she really told him he was in charge? Men and women were equals! She'd forged a life and a career to ensure she didn't need a man. She wanted one, but she didn't need one. And here she was, a grown woman about to bend over a man's knee. She assumed it would be an over-the-knee spanking—she didn't even know that for sure. So what the hell was she doing?
Emma lowered her hands and straightened her spine. She would inform Dan she'd changed her mind about this ludicrous idea. She did not need a spanking to finish her story. Journalists wrote about their subjects all the time without firsthand experience. Nor should she let Dan spank her just because he was handsome, sexy, and could make her come like a bottle rocket. A woman had to set boundaries. Decision made, she could breathe again. Almost.
She heard a drawer close in the bathroom, and moments later, Dan reappeared.
"Dan, I think—” Her words fell away at the sight of the brush in his hand. Of all of them, he'd chosen the acrylic one with the wide, flat head and short rubber bristles used for detangling. Nervousness broke through the dam of bottled emotions and erupted in a burst of laughter. She clapped a hand to her mouth as her shoulders shook.
"What's so funny?"
Tears welled in her eyes. “Th-that's called...that's called...a paddle brush!"
"I guess I picked the right one, then.” He smacked it against his thigh.
Her laughter died. The words to tell him there would be no spanking clogged in her throat when he set the hairbrush on her coffee table. She gaped at the object she used every single day as if she'd never seen it before.
Dan inched by her and sat in the middle of the sofa, then extended his hand. “We'll sit for a bit. I'd like to hold you."
It wouldn't hurt to sit. She allowed him to pull her to his side. She would speak up as soon as her voice started working.
"Here. On my lap."
Emma snuggled against his chest and rested her head on his shoulder. He stroked her arm with a tenderness that might have been calming if not for his erection pressing against her bottom. The idea of spanking her had made him hard, and his arousal ignited hers, causing her clit to pulse, her nipples to bead.
Who do you think you're fooling? You got wet as soon as he suggested the spanking. What about that, huh?
Shut up! Emma rebuked the taunting little voice inside.
Dan tightened his embrace and kissed her forehead. “I can feel your heart racing,” he murmured. “Trust me, Em.” His breath warmed her ear, and a shiver skittered up her spine. “We'll begin slow, start out easy."
She noticed he didn't say he was going to go easy, only that he'd start easy. Tell him now!
Dan brushed his hand down her back to her hip, then trailed over her thigh before embarking on the return journey. In a single fluid motion, he shifted her. Emma blinked in surprise to find herself facedown, butt-up over his lap, her feet braced on the sofa arm. How had he accomplished that so easily? Beneath the softness of her tummy, the solidness of his cock pressed into her. Emma's breath seized up in her throat once again. He removed her glasses, set them on the table beside the hairbrush, and her world fuzzed to a soft blur.
He pinned her to his lap with an arm anchored across her lower back while he massaged her right ass cheek with a gentle but sure touch. Hyperawareness burned through her dress, through her panties to her skin and deeper, until her entire body quivered at the cellular level.
Danger, Will Robinson. Danger!
Emma didn't need a robot's voice from an old TV show to tell her she'd miscalculated. Now she was prone over a man's lap—a man with a raging hard-on—seconds away from being spanked. Call a halt, Emma. Call a halt.
Dan rubbed and squeezed the moons of her butt. “When you adopted Jinx, you accepted responsibility for his well-being."
Jinx? She frowned.
"You know it's dangerous for him to wander outside."
Oh yeah. Jinx. The darn cat was the reason she was in this predicament.
Stroking ceased. “You need to be more mindful of your actions."
Emma opened her mouth to agree, then jerked and squealed as he brought his palm down on her ass. Several slaps followed, each one delivered a little harder, stinging a tad more.
Emma raised her head and caught sight of her cat watching from a safe distance on his scratch post. This is your fault, she thought. It had to be her imagination that Jinx was smirking at her.
Dan moved his hand over her bottom, caressing away the sting, and she sighed in relief. That wasn't so bad.
"I think you're ready,” he said.
Alarm lodged in her throat when he flipped the skirt of her dress to her waist, revealing her black lace boy shorts. Cut high on each hip, the panty exposed the lower portion of her ass, the see-through lace showing the rest.
"Oh Em.” Dan groaned. “You're already blushing. Your ass is beautiful.” His erection throbbed beneath her stomach.
She twisted slightly to peer at him over her shoulder. “Thank you,” she said with as much cheek as she could muster.
He smoothed his hand over her lace-covered rear, then traced a tantalizing trail along the edge of the leg opening. Tingles spiraled outward, delivering pulses into her clit, her pussy, and into her womb. She'd had no idea her ass could be so responsive to a simple touch.
Of course, her ass had never been spanked before.
Dan secured her on his lap and snagged the hairbrush.
The room spun, and she looked forward again. Like when having blood drawn at the doctor's office, she couldn't watch or she might pass out.
"Soon, Em, but not yet,” he said as if he sensed her nervousness. He set the brush beside him and resumed stroking her cheeks.
Emma recognized the moment his caress was going to become a serious smack. Perhaps it was a sudden tension in his body, the lift and pause of his
stroking hand, a crackle in the aura of intimacy.
Prescience didn't mitigate impact. When the spank came, falling sharply on her panty-clad behind, it stung mightily, and she yelped. A split second later, he burned her other cheek. She pressed her lips together to stifle a cry, not so much at the sharp pain, but at the knowledge that everything had changed. The spanking chiseled away at her core beliefs, and she clung in vain to the sofa, trying to hang on to the Emma she'd always been. Her outer shell shattered into bits and flew away, uncovering what had been hidden deep inside. Two smacks shouldn't have been enough to tell her if she liked being spanked—except it did. She loved it.
"Perhaps the next time"—he smacked her hard—"you'll think twice about"—crack—"leaving the door open"—another spank—"so Jinx can get out."
Emma hadn't expected a scolding with the spanking, but it enhanced the experience somehow, like talking dirty during sex.
She wiggled on Dan's lap, but he clamped his arm across her back and yanked down her panties. Her breath hitched in her throat. She'd never felt so vulnerable, so...connected? How was that possible? Her pussy throbbed along with her ass.
Cool air grazed her naked skin, but then Dan slapped her cheek, and the temperature soared. She had no protection from his stinging hand, no defense against her rioting emotions. She wanted to hate it, to loathe every painful second, but...she didn't.
Each spank seared the point of contact before morphing into ripples of confusing yearning. Pain...pleasure. Pain...pleasure. Twin sensations danced within her in a baffling tango.
She dreaded every punitive kiss, kicking and writhing to escape.
She craved each one, lifting her hips to meet every smack.
Deftly, without interrupting the pace, Dan employed the paddle brush, the wide head spreading the sensation over a larger area. He spanked her with a steady rhythm, until flames engulfed her from the top of her buttocks to her upper thighs.
Despite the pain—or maybe because of it—her pussy flooded with moisture, drenched her inner thighs and probably Dan's slacks. She bit her lip and fisted her hands into the sofa fabric to keep from humping Dan's lap.
Emma couldn't deny the truth anymore—being spanked turned her on. Big time.
"Oh God, Dan. Please. Please,” she cried and lifted her hips for another spank and then recoiled when she received it.
"Yes. That's it, Em. That's it, sweet girl.” His raspy, hoarse praise thrilled her, sending a surge of heated pleasure through her veins. “You're so fucking beautiful.” He set down the brush and roughly massaged her burning cheeks, soothing and punishing her tender flesh.
Dan dipped his fingers between her legs and sucked his breath through his teeth in a hiss of satisfaction. “You're so wet.” He teased her clit with tight circles, igniting a fire that rivaled the one whipping across the surface of her skin. When he thrust one finger then a second into her sex, Emma thought she'd lose her mind with the need that coursed through her body.
Dan became the master, the director, controlling how much pleasure and pain to inflict on her eager body. He stroked and finger fucked her to the brink of orgasm—then left her hanging.
"Please—please, Dan.” She needed to come more badly than she ever had before.
Dan chuckled, his rich laugh full of satisfaction, and picked up the brush again. He struck her cheek hard, and she flinched. “Oh God, more,” she begged. “More. More. More."
He peppered her ass with spicy kisses until agony and rapture merged, and she bucked like a wild thing across his knees, sobbing through the pleasure, laughing through the pain.
"You like it, don't you, Emma?” Dan growled. “You like having your ass burned. You like your pleasure wrapped up in a kiss of pain."
"Yes.” She couldn't lie. How could she when she'd cried out for more, writhing in ecstasy? Hadn't she been living vicariously through the testimonies of the Rod and Cane wives? Hadn't she secretly gotten a little thrill with every spanking tale she'd heard, playing the recordings over and over? Wasn't the real purpose of her expose an attempt to explore her own dark desires?
Dan seared her ass twice more and tossed the brush aside.
Her backside throbbed like a balloon being inflated and deflated. Everything pulsed—the arteries in her throat, her aching clit, her swollen pussy, her womb. Her body was one massive ball of convulsing need.
Dan eased her to her feet. “Take off your clothes,” he ordered in a quiet voice and unzipped his pants.
Emma complied, her gaze riveted on Dan as he freed his cock from his undershorts. She wanted him so badly, wanted to suck his rod, have him bury that monster in her pussy, but she waited for his instruction. She licked her lips.
He gestured, moving his hand in a circle.
Emma pivoted slowly and presented her backside.
"Fucking gorgeous,” he growled, and Emma's chest swelled with pride. Equality between the sexes be damned. She'd let Dan spank her every day if it meant she could hear such approval and satisfaction in his voice.
"Am I red?"
"Like a rose.” He trailed a finger over her sensitive skin, his light touch raising goose bumps of pleasure. Emma shivered.
"Turn around.” Approval morphed into dominance. “Suck my cock."
She sank to her knees and grasped his shaft with both hands. Holy fuck, he was hard like an iron rod, the crown slickened by fluid. She lowered her head and inhaled the musk of sex and man. Her pussy quivered. With a moan of enjoyment, she swirled her tongue over and around his large, weeping cockhead, tracing the ridge, teasing the slit.
"Fuck.” He jerked under her touch.
Emma opened her mouth wide and sucked him deep.
"You're so good. Such a good girl.” Dan wound the strands of her hair around his fingers as if gripping a leash. Her jaw ached to take a man so large, but she sucked with all her might, his hoarse exhortations filling her with satisfaction.
As she moved her mouth up and down his rod, the fabric of his slacks teased her pebbled nipples. He reached down and pinched one, rolling it between his fingers. Sweet pleasure bit through the tip, and Emma moaned, the sound partially muffled by his cock.
She kissed his erection from crown to base, where she teased his ball sac with her tongue, before licking a trail back up to his cockhead. She started to engulf him again, but he held her off, got to his feet, and tore off his pants. “Enough,” he said. “I need to fuck you."
Dan guided her facedown over the sofa arm and gently kicked her feet apart. “Spread your legs; show me that pussy.” She loved how he took charge. Emma trembled with excitement, her knees shaking, her sex creaming with lust.
"How are you feeling? Are you all right?” Dan caressed one of the flaming globes of her ass. Dominance receded under concern, and Emma's heart flip-flopped. She appreciated his tenderness, but right now she had needs. Serious needs.
She taunted him. “Are you going to talk all night or fuck me?"
Dan grabbed the hairbrush and gave her two hard whacks. “Sassing will get you spanked,” he said.
"I'm sorry. I'm sorry.” She laughed and covered her burning cheeks. He gathered both her wrists in one hand and delivered several more swats with the brush.
Wetness trickled down her legs, and Emma could smell the musk of her arousal. As much as she had relished the spanking, she craved the completion of being filled.
He must have read her mind, because he tossed the brush aside, produced a condom, and snapped it on. He probed her wetness with the thick head of his cock and worked into her tight, grasping channel.
"Oh God, yes.” Emma hissed at the satisfying fullness, the pressure, and contracted her muscles. “Hard. Fuck me hard.” Emma thrust against him.
"I don't want to hurt you.” He grasped her hips and held her tight. Buried inside her, his cock throbbed.
"You spanked me!"
"Good point."
He fucked her as she'd demanded—hard, fast, swiveling his hips to drive deep, slamming her against th
e padded arm of the sofa. He moved his fingers over her clit, kindling flames of rapture in the bundled nerves.
Primed and readied by the foreplay spanking, it didn't take Emma long to come. Her clit and pussy convulsed in orgasmic bliss. “Oh God, oh God, oh God, DAN!” She bucked against him, her muscles milking his cock.
Dan growled and pounded into her, his cock jerking inside her as he came. He slumped on top of her, crushing her against a hard edge of the sofa that poked through the padding. Her ass ached, but Emma had never felt more content.
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Chapter Eight
A sidewalk display of pink roses caught his eye, and Dan swerved to the curb beside the florist shop. A quick glance at his watch revealed he had only ten minutes to spare, but some matters took precedence over mandatory Rod and Cane meetings.
He leaped from his SUV and made a beeline for the rose display to get a closer look. The pale blooms couldn't compare to the beautiful deep pink that had tinted Emma's butt cheeks after he'd spanked her. He bent his head to inhale the scent. Sweet, but Emma smelled better, like a mix of warm vanilla, honey, and arousal. He fingered a delicate petal. It didn't compare to Emma's softer skin.
A woman in a dark green butcher's apron emerged from the shop. “Can I help you?"
"What other color roses do you have?"
"All the standard ones. Red, yellow, white. Who are they for?"
"A special lady."
"Girlfriend?"
Not counting their shower, he and Emma had had only the one date. One incredible, axis-tilting, life-altering date. He'd floated from her house, on top of the world.
"Yes.” He nodded.
Emma's willingness to experiment, the trusting way she'd bowed over his lap, touched him to the marrow. Her moans of pleasure and the way her ivory skin blushed—first tender pink, then blooming to a full, glorious rose—had stoked his lust to a fever pitch. As he spanked her, he had smelled her arousal and seen its evidence glistening in her curls as she twisted and bucked under his hand.