“That can’t be correct,” she argued pigheadedly. “Some people die every day, so at least some have actually kicked it at a New Year’s bonfire.”
Her hosts reconsidered and gave a more precise answer. “At least not from falling through the ice.”
Lucy thought a moment on that. “Oh, well, I would assume that alcohol related issues would be significant. I am not sure of the exact relationship between alcohol consumption and hypothermia. Oh!” She slapped her forehead. “Fireworks! That’s what gets people killed.” In America, she would have been instantly shushed. Who wants to be reminded of their mortality at a party? Apparently in Sweden this passed for party talk. Cheerfully, almost swaggeringly they went out to bring in the New Year with bonfires, and explosions under the northern lights.
The incredibly early twilight and the pearlescent swirls overhead meant that there was no good way to guess the hour. Lucy found herself having a delightful time, even talking to Astrid with great humor. Astrid wanted to visit New York City and this might be the only subject on earth that Lucy knew more about than the leggy blonde. Well, that and ways that humans could die grisly deaths, but nowhere near enough alcohol had been consumed for that to be an ongoing topic of conversation.
Lucy knew of an aeronautical engineer in New York, who delightedly responded to her text and offered his services as both host and tour guide to Astrid. Lucy didn’t mention that she had described Astrid as a “card carrying member of the Swedish bikini team.”
Astrid was curious about her potential host. “Did you go to math school together?”
“No, we went to summer camp together,” Lucy replied breezily.
Nick was suddenly behind her and gave her waist a hearty squeeze.
The bonfire was not an especially large one, and when it burned out, the guests hugged each other and retired to their own cottages. Lucy and Nick held hands while they walked back to their cottage. “We could use the sauna, but it would probably take forever to get hot.”
Nick rewarded her with a sharp swat to the bottom. “Where do you think I was while you were talking to Astrid?”
“You are a genius!” she said.
They had reached their cottage and he ushered her in. “I think the sauna will be ready in another ten minutes or so.”
She shucked her ski jacket and was unpeeling the snow pants from her legs, a less sexy act she couldn’t imagine.
“Here,” he said, holding out a hand.
She took it and settled next to him on the bed.
“I read a lot of that web site.”
She snuggled against his chest. “That’s so sweet of you.”
“Well, I don’t know about all of it. But I can’t think of anything sexier than spanking you. If surrendering to me makes you happy too, I think we should try.”
Oh god, was she going to cry again? When did she get so sobby?
“I think tonight, we can do a sort of ‘clear the decks’ spanking.”
She hadn’t heard that term before. “I don’t know what that is.”
“Well, I think it will mean that we start with a clean slate tomorrow.”
“Perfect.”
“You might have to be patient with me, this is sort of new.”
“Well, you too. I mean, I might not like it the way I think I will.”
The flat of his tongue meandered down her neck and to the top button of her blouse. With greedy hands he divested her of the rest of her clothing. She began to return the favor and he stopped her. “Not yet.” He grabbed the duvet off of the bed and wrapped her in it. Then he opened the door and beckoned her to follow him.
She reached for her shoes. Submission might be sexy as all hell, but walking through a snowdrift barefoot seemed a bit silly.
With one bold swooping motion, he threw her over his shoulder and carried her to the sauna. The sauna was a small round building. In its center was a wood-burning stove that had a tray of large rocks on its top. You would pour water over the rocks to get steam.
It was warm inside, but not the oven she had expected. The comforter was tossed over a bench and Lucy was handily draped over her husband’s lap. The first swat shocked her. It stung. He spanked her more forcefully than he had done earlier, but he was constantly in touch with her feelings. He would lean so closely over her that she could feel his breath on her face.
“Just to be clear.” He landed the hardest slap yet, in the center of her right cheek. “This is because I want to do this.”
This pleased her more than she would ever have anticipated. She didn’t want it to be a chore for him.
He moved to the other cheek, just as solidly, back and forth.
She was torn between wanting to hold still to encourage him to continue and needing to wriggle to relieve some of the ferocious heat building up in her backside. Her wriggling around didn’t seem to be bothering him, so she yielded to it. She yelped, she shimmied and, to her shock, she found herself throwing her hands back to protect herself from the spanking that she had fantasized about all of her life.
A deep chuckle arose from her husband. “Oh no, sweetheart, it doesn’t end that easily.”
Somehow, the tiny frisson of anxiety she felt, (Take that Astrid! I remember ONE word of French.) made it even sexier.
He slowed down, but didn’t lighten up at all. “There is only one thing you need to know.” Smack, smack, smack. “I don’t want to make a big list of rules, but one thing will always be true.” He continued apace. “I decide when this is done. Not you, young lady.”
Oh, be still, her snarky analytical heart. Perfect.
He maneuvered her so that she straddled his knee. His spanking had eased up and he intermittently ran his fingers over her aching cleft. Mild slaps on her inner thighs punctuated the silence. He helped her stand.
She wasn’t sure what she expected him to do next, but his sinking to his knees and guiding her to lay back over the comforter covered bench, hadn’t even been on her long list of options.
He burrowed his face between her thighs and she gave herself over to his ministrations. His tongue darted and stroked. When he slid his hands under her bottom to lift her up so that he could more easily feast upon her, the spots where his fingertips pressed gave off tender little sparks.
She rode the climax like a wave, arching her back, crying his name. Before she had even caught her breath, he had turned her around and slammed himself into her. She gasped when each thrust hammered up against her pink bottom. She dug her fingers into the folds of the comforter and pressed herself back against him with all of her might.
His release was a tsunami.
She buried her face in the down filled comforter and struggled to catch her breath. The inner tumult she was experiencing was intense and sumptuous. Her bottom was not exactly sore, but she was intensely aware of it. She could feel every warm handprint. Her pussy was sated. Her heart was dancing. There was a giddiness at the thought of Nick deciding when she got spanked and when it was over. And there was love, so much love for her husband.
He got up and poured some water over the now very hot rocks. The sauna filled with steam that smelled of spruce. They lay back and let the damp heat cleanse them. Lucy hoped that her need to hide her desires was being purged from her very pores.
“I love you, baby doll.”
“I love you too.”
Email from [email protected]
To: [email protected]
You are a genius! And Nick is a genius and, well, I’m still a genius.;) We actually had a blast on New Year’s. We spent a lot of time chatting and laughing with his work friends – and in my case avoiding weirdly flavored herring. We spent even more time nestled together in the sauna talking and planning.
Nick has laid out two rules: 1. He decides when I get spanked and 2. He decides when it’s over. We haven’t come up with lists or contracts, although we have agreed that those are a possibility later. Now, we are just enjoying where we are. We have spent a lot of time with me over hi
s knee.
It’s amazing how you can have such conflicting emotions about something that makes you so, so happy. It’s also amazing just how quickly a man can get over his fear of hurting the woman he loves (sort of – you know what I mean). I was begging him to stop last night; for some reason it really stung, and he pinned my hand into my lower back and said, “Stop fussing so much, you are fine!”
Easy for the one whose ass isn’t on fire to say! I was whimpering and pleading and rocking back and forth while he cheerfully painted my back porch red. I think that if we had done what I thought I wanted to do – moved straight to a list of rules that were sternly enforced, I would never have known how FUN this is.
It’s sexy, which I knew, and it gives me an overwhelming feeling of being loved, which I hoped it would, but it’s so… intimate, so intriguing so… convivial. I had no idea. No idea. I didn’t realize that DD/spanking, whatever the hell we are doing, was not something that is imposed upon you. I know it sounds silly, but it’s all about teamwork. We do it together; we are figuring it out together. It is not as simple as he is in charge and I better behave. At least it’s not for us, and not now.
So much of what you wrote through the years (and which I could repeat word for word) went over my head. It’s fluid, isn’t it? It’s a part of us and it’s around us and it carries us and sometimes we might fight against it – this river that I’ve wanted to swim in my whole life…
You answered an email from a stranger and helped her change her life. Thank you, my friend. I need to go now, Nick will be home at four (this is Sweden – no one works late) and I am to be bent over the arm of the couch with my jeans and panties around my ankles when he gets home…
Love, Lucy
The End.
About the Author
Susannah Shannon
Susannah Shannon lives in the Midwestern USA with her family. She is a committed cook, a more committed eater and reads anything she can get her hands on. She is delighted to have joined the Blushing Books publishing family. Her books combine humor, romance and spankings.
http://susannahshannon.com/
Don't miss these exciting titles by Susannah Shannon and Blushing Books!
A Handful Of Stars
The Cass Chronicles:
Roasted - Book One
Relish - Book Two
Rendered - Book Three
Rare - Book Four
Red Velvet - Book Five
Anthologies:
Sunstrokes
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A Spanking Good New Year: Short Story Collection Page 34