by Megan McCoy
Tears had already begun to flow before she got the second smack, and from then on, all she could hear was the tone of his voice and the sound of the paddle cracking down rhythmically and repeatedly, on her bottom.
She knew he spoke, but she felt so bad and her bottom started hurting so much, she couldn’t understand, much less answer him. She’d just be still and quiet, and accept it.
She deserved it. She decided. A plan.
Soon enough, her brain didn’t comprehend or even remember her plan, as her poor, sore, painful rear became aware of his plan. The smacks and thwacks became harder and harder and too quickly, she couldn’t even think any more about being quiet. Or still. Or anything else but how much her bottom hurt. He needed to stop!
Oh. Maybe she should tell him that.
“Ow, ow, ow!” She finally let loose. “Ow!” Then the sobs started and her coherency became less. She sobbed and cried and tried to twist away and still his hard hand brought that nasty paddle down over and over and covered her panty-clad bottom thoroughly and consistently, then around again.
Slowly, steadily he let no part from the top of her bottom to the top of her thighs go uncovered. Oh, who knew her thighs were so delicate? “Not there!” she sobbed, and then vaguely realized she shouldn’t tip him off to where it hurt too much. But who cared right now?
He just needed to stop!
“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry!” she cried.
Suddenly, he spanked her so hard and so quickly, she didn’t think she could deal, all she could do was screech and howl.
It went on too long. He kept scolding but she couldn’t comprehend anything he said. Just that her bottom hurt. And she couldn’t catch her breathe or make her wishes for it to be over with clear to him no matter how she pleaded and cried.
“Done, done!” she sobbed.
“Not yet,” he said. And when he started smacking even harder, her hand flew back again and she didn’t even notice that he grabbed it, and held it.
After he’d grabbed her hand, he said, “Bad girl!” which, oddly enough, she heard plainly enough, and delivered another flurry of strong spanks that made her stiffen and howl, and then suddenly she noticed she was on her feet, and frantically rubbing her bottom and hopping. His voice cut through her pain as he said, “Go to the corner, hands on your head. Now.”
She shuffled to the corner, noticing vaguely, she’d kicked her pants to her ankles. Hard to walk and she really wanted to do some kind of high step and rub her butt and put out the fire. But, obviously she could still think because she just did as she was told.
“Unless you want some more, get your hands on your head. You need to feel what happened to your bottom,” he commanded.
She gave another quick rub before she did as told. Hands on her head.
“Nose in the corner. Now start remembering why you just got paddled and what you are going to do instead the next time you feel tempted.”
Cheri shifted in the corner put her head against the wall and wanted nothing more than to rub her bottom and go home. Sobs racked her, and her bottom burned and yet, she felt so much better, lighter, forgiven, as he started the post-spanking lecture.
* * * * *
“Of course, after a few minutes, I held her for a bit and reassured her that she had paid her price, and it was really over now. Oddly enough, she referred a couple of her friends to me after, though the way she was bawling and begging me to stop during it, I was surprised she told anyone.”
He laughed, and I winced, wondering if I’d be the one he’d be laughing about later.
“She actually came back for one more reminder a few months ago.” He shook his head. “I thought I did a good job the first time, but sometimes, I guess it just doesn’t stick and naughty bottoms need some continued heat to help.”
This laughing Cole seemed almost the same as my sweet thing, my gentle tender lover, and yet, now I knew he had a side to him I’d had no clue about. I had no idea how I couldn’t know, because it seemed to be a part of personality, normal and natural with him.
The barrier between us made sense. We both had this huge secret and need and neither of us shared it with the person we loved. We both needed to be paddled for being secretive, but I suspected that wasn’t the way it was going to work, unfortunately.
Or fortunately, because I didn’t swing the other way. Oh, he was still talking, while I was thinking about getting a spanking soon. How rude! See, I was the one who needed paddled, after all!
“Then who shows up at my door but my girlfriend, whose cute bottom I’ve wanted to spank since I first caught a glimpse of it, not knowing she wanted it, too.” He cocked his head at me like that detective on the reruns of Law and Order, and I squirmed, just like his suspects always did. They almost always ended up telling him the truth, too, eventually.
“So, your turn, tell me about your first spanking,” he said. “How did you get into this?”
“It was Luke,” I replied promptly. I was not going to lie to him ever again. Anything he wanted to know, I was going to share.
He knew about my college boyfriend, Luke. He didn’t know Luke spanked me though. “It’s all Luke’s fault.”
Chapter Four
Luke, oh yeah, Luke. Tall, exotic, with dark skin, a dazzling white smile, and black eyes that flashed when he got passionate about anything. His dad was a big, blonde southern boy, a Marine, and his mom, the pretty, Spanish girl in one of his ports. Luke got his dad’s build and his mom’s coloring, and he was perfection personified.
His parents told him it was love at first sight. She was a spitfire and his dad, a very patient man who tolerated much, until he hit the end of his rope.
Then she ended up over his knee and there was peace and calmness in the house for days, sometimes weeks, after.
Luke said he thought, growing up, that was how relationships worked. It made perfect sense to him, and he could see how well it worked for them both.
As he got older, he realized it wasn’t the norm, or other people were more clandestine about it than his folks were. It didn’t seem to bother them that people knew. In fact, his mom sometimes bragged about her sore bottom, as if it was a prize her husband would bestowed upon her. As an adult, looking at other couples and their relationships, Luke realized it more than likely was just that, a bonding, sharing, a bonus for them both.
Why, he asked me seriously, would you bicker, argue, get mad, pout, and make each other unhappy when a quick and thorough paddling would make everything right in your world? It seemed to bring his parents closer and they had one of the happiest marriages he’d ever seen.
I had been fascinated by the idea, and since at the time when he first told me about it, we were in a restaurant surrounded by people, and I had my pants securely on, and my bottom safely pressed to the seat, I inquired eagerly about this new thing I’d just learned about. Adult spanking! Making things and relationships better!
“But why does it make it better?” I asked Luke. “How come whoever is getting spanked doesn’t get mad?”
He shrugged and flashed that smile that made me weak in the knees and did something amazing to my belly. “She does sometimes get mad. You have to spank past the mad. Get to the sweet.”
“Past the mad and to the sweet,” I marveled. “How long does that take?”
“Every woman is different.” He smiled at me. “So is every situation. I knew one girl that after three swats, her entire attitude would change. Others take more care and more time.”
“More care?” I asked, trying not look as transfixed as I felt.
“Yes,” he said, slicing his meat with precision. “A proper spanking between consenting people is not an act of violence, but of caring and compassion. It can be a gift.”
I felt as if my world had been set on its end. Who knew about this kind of thing? Most people, I realized, eventually. “Consenting?” I squeaked out.
“Yes, my pet, consenting. I would never spank a woman against her will. There is a
lways consent. Sometimes the consent comes earlier, but there is consent.”
“I don’t understand. Why would a woman consent to be spanked like a child?”
Again with the smile. His hand stroked mine and I wiggled in my seat. “Well, adult spankings are between two people who want it, or need it. Why do they want it? Many reasons. One is they are wired to want it. Like a fetish.”
Okay, I’d read about fetishes. I could understand that concept. So I nodded. See! I could be led. Comprehend!
He stroked up my hand, to my wrist and up my arm.
I felt the goosebumps race, and shivered.
“Especially in a long term relationship, sometimes a woman wants to know her man is in charge, that he will take care of her and protect her from anything. Even from herself, if needed. A spanking can do that for her.”
My mind whirled in circles. Good thing his hand held me grounded to earth, despite the shivers and shakes either his stroking or words invoked.
“Another reason is that they are strong and powerful woman who need a release. They need to feel someone take control for a short amount of time, to give over and submit, and then cathartic tears.”
I felt like a parrot, “Cathartic tears?”
“You know,” he reminded gently. “How you feel after a good cry.”
Oh. Yeah. That. “You make them cry?”
“Sometimes they do, and sometimes not. No two females are alike. They all react differently, though if properly done, they all feel better afterwards.” He looked at me thoughtfully. “You will see.”
I choked on my potato. “Me?” I was suddenly, wildly, more turned on than I had ever been in a public place, during dinner. “I haven’t been naughty! I don’t need spanked.”
Then I looked up at him, questioningly, “Do I?”
He leaned over and wiped a bit of stray food from the corner of my mouth, and whispered, “Very badly and very properly.”
We skipped dessert and went straight back to his apartment. Soft music played as we started cuddling on the coach. I loved being in his arms, being held close.
He had not been my first lover, but he was above and beyond the best I’d had. It was such a joy to be loved by a man who knew how to pleasure a woman and enjoyed it as much as Luke seemed to. His motto had been, Making the female happy, means more playtime for the male. I loved and so appreciated the idea, the concept and his follow-through.
Though I admit, I was beyond shocked the first time he fingered me till I exploded and came, and then and then! He licked his fingers happily after. “What?” I gasped.
“Too bad I don’t have carrots to dip,” he grinned as I came close to passing out. I mean, it was one thing to be asked to swallow—which I didn’t like to do, but would do—I’d never met a man who enjoyed the taste of women so much. After the surprise of it wore off, I had to admit, it was one of the things I had also learned to love. I learned to spread my legs happily for him and his wonderful tongue, and grand and glorious appreciation.
“Since you have not been particularly naughty, I will make your first time very fun,” he nibbled at my ear as he spoke. “Would you like that?”
Once the man worked me up, I would agree to anything.
Yes, it’s one of my big faults, if I adore you, and if you turn me on I say, “Yes.” I breathed.
He said almost smugly, “Now you understand. Consent….”
“Consent for fun!” I protested, as he settled back on the couch, and pulled me face down over his lap. All stretched out on the couch with my head and legs comfortably supported, arms cradling a couch pillow per his direction. I felt his arm move and instinctively tensed, waiting for him to start whaling away on me. That’s what happened during a spanking, I was sure.
Much to my surprise, instead he started rubbing my bottom over my skirt and said softly, “Fun, remember?”
He kneaded, rubbed, and occasionally, gave a few soft pats. His finger slipped down my pantie covered parts and rubbed there too. Between his gentle strokes, soft pats, and finger placement, soon I was moaning and arching up to meet his hand as it came down. Harder and harder.
“Who is my sweet love?” he asked, using both hands and about a hundred fingers to excite me more and more.
“Me!” I gasped out, and could feel the heat in my bottom start to grow as he continued the spanks, more often and some harder.
“That’s right,” he said approvingly and I almost wet myself, pleased that I pleased him. “Let’s step this up a bit,” and I almost wiggled into the couch, wanting this so much.
I felt hot and warm and needing and wanting, and the more he smacked my bottom, the more I wanted him. I could tell I’d soaked my panties already and was arching my back and aching, desiring, wanting more of those lovely spanks that had made me feel as turned on as I had ever been in my life.
Then he gave me a quick hard smack that made me yelp. “Take it, Miki, it will be worth it,” he said quietly.
I really tried to calm myself when another one came, then another, and suddenly I was squirming and twisting, and not really wanting to get away but, they blended together—the smacks, the heat, the sting, and they were my world. My entire life. They were all I could think of or imagine, I couldn’t tell if it was pain or if it was pleasure or a combination or but then I felt cooler air, as my skirt came up and my panties were jerked down.
Another couple heat inducing swats on my bare skin with one hand and he fingered my clit with his other between my obliging spread legs. I came with an orgasm that shattered me and left me almost sobbing as he stopped spanking and started rubbing my hot bare bottom and my back until I calmed down enough to hear him, in a voice filled with knowing and laughter, say, “Told you it would be fun. I was right, yes?”
I’ve been hooked on spanking ever since. I could not have had a better introduction into the lovely world of spanking than he gave me. It was like his evil plan! Luke wanted a willing spankee for his own desires, so he trained me well. Oh and what a calm, happy person he turned me into. For a while, at least.
Most of the spankings he gave me after were not that way, of course, most were foreplay—a warm bottom equals fun sex—but sometimes there were firm ones when he got irked with my mouth.
Three were totally disciplinary ones, where he explained to my bare butt that I was never to do/say/act that way again no matter my angst or nerves. I didn’t like those nearly as much, but I loved the way they made me feel after the fire he’d lit in my butt turned to a warm glow, that moved to my mind. Better than drinking and better than drugs, I’d often thought.
He’d been right. I’d consented for fun, consented for punishment, and would have consented forever.
I loved Luke with the hard strong love of youth, and loved, craved, desired, wanted, needed, treasured, adored, the fact he loved to spank me.
I thought we would be forever.
Then one day, his mom got sick, he flew to Spain to be with her, and just… never came back. Long story there, but heart broken, I put my need for spanking behind me, as if it were a childish thing, and moved on to more adult pursuits.
Yes, we had different reasons, but I’d done it, just as Cole had, and then as fate does, two silly people found each other, put on our grown up faces and regretted it almost every day after.
Chapter Five
Sitting there silently, we looked at each other, both of us seemed shocked, disbelieving, and yeah, I’m sure he was a little irritated, as was I. I marveled that we’d dated for a year, talked of moving in together, professed love, made love, and yet we had this huge barrier between us that neither of us had discussed. One sentence. One conversation. Even a drunken confession would have worked! It didn’t happen in a year. It was quite sad and senseless.
This… thing… had, however, left us both so desperate for it that we’d broken up because we needed it, wanted it, and couldn’t do without. Thus, each of us eventually consented to meet a stranger in a hotel.
Hard wiring. What
can I say?
What was wrong with us? Maybe nothing. That’s what I hoped anyway.
“Did you bring what I asked,” he said suddenly, as if he remembered why he was here.
Oh, yeah, I came here to get my head on straight. I’d forgotten. Sort of. Maybe.
“I don’t think I can…” I began, and then I trailed off. Why the hell not? Other than the fact this was Cole and not some nameless faceless internet stranger, my desire hadn’t changed. I still needed what I came to get. Hey, who knew? He might even help more than a stranger. Who knew me better, after all? Bonus, I would see what the man could deliver. That might seal the deal. Well, unless, oh, if he wasn’t with someone else. I opened my mouth to ask, then shut it again as he pointed at me.
He wanted to talk, it seemed, thought it was his turn. Fine. I’d let him have a turn. I hoped there would be much more time in our future together to ask him. I looked up at his still beloved face. Saw his smile. His eyes that always seemed to know everything I wanted – and now they really did. My head swam as I tried to focus on his words, and realized what was going to happen. Oh, yeah. I remembered now.
“We talked about all this before we came. Unless I hear the word, this is going to happen. Now, hairbrush please,” he held out his hand as I clutched my purse tightly to my chest and tried to stall.
“So how have you been? Seeing anyone?” I asked, lamely. Oh yeah, my conversational skills rock. I’d decided… what? Five seconds ago I decided that I was would not ask? Yeah, so much for common sense. We could have bumped into each other on the street and I would have said the same thing, or the equivalent of some other drivel.
“You mean, socially?” he asked calmly, still holding out his hand for the brush I had not yet retrieved from my purse.
“How else is there?” As if we hadn’t just discussed another way. I held onto my purse as if it was a lifeline.
He laughed and I had to wonder where this amazingly self-confident assertive man came from? A Cole clone? My Cole was too adorably wimpy to have acted like this.