I’m not the “forward” type. My friends know me to be a calm,
dark-eyed lady with a nice smile (ok, I’ll brag a bit), a good body (though it
wouldn’t hurt for me to lose five pounds) and a pleasant personality. All the
men I dated in the past are still my friends, or if not it's because of miles between us, and not because of a bad break-up. I’m simply a nice person: sure I speak
my mind, but never to the point of beating someone over the head with my
opinions.
But over all I’m quiet, not shy exactly, but I keep to
myself.
So it would probably come as a surprise to many (and it had
to most of those aforementioned boyfriends) that I like to be spanked, love it
actually. Hell, it came as a surprise to me when my first boyfriend, Joey
Anderson and I were fooling around in his dark and dank basement on my
sixteenth birthday and he managed to get me across his lap for a few “birthday
swats.” I became so red-faced (and with my dark complexion that is saying a
lot) that I literally had to sprint home so as not to show Joey how excited I
was.
At first I was a bit confused by that sudden rush, but
somehow this simple act (what I would later learn was called an “OTK” or
over-the-knee spanking) awakened a deep well of desire. I started masturbating
furiously to daydreams of ass-warmings. My senior year in high-school, I experimented with a swarm of boys hoping that I might be able to make my budding
fantasy a firm reality. My reputation became one of a quiet girl who liked some kinky
activities; but in actuality I really only wanted a good hard swat across my
bare firm ass…and Jesus was it ever firm back then!
My first years of college I jumped from relationship to
relationship chasing my elusive goal: a man who could indulge my spanking fetish daily. I was spanked with a variety of implements by a number of different men; ordered to wear
ever-smaller skirts in public for easier access (I love the titillation of public
punishment); taken across knee, desk and high-backed chairs; and punished quickly in a
bedroom while a party commenced in the common-room of a dorm! Although it was never
enough, I was lucky though that I did
surround myself with men who indulged me.
Now as I mentioned, I still count among my best friends a
good portion of the men who I’ve dated (a couple of my exes were even coming to my
wedding in a month). These guys were all ex-spankers of mine (in reality or fantasy) and I trusted them to a fault. So whom better to seek
out for a final night of spanking revelry?
My husband-to-be and I decided to give each other one last
weekend of freedom in the tradition of a bachelor/ bachelorette party. I had no idea what Tony’d
be up to nor he I, but I knew my fiancé well enough to know he respected me and
would never endanger his health, or mine. I knew he assumed I’d spend the
weekend with some girlfriends--and I had on Friday night--but on Saturday at
five, I checked myself into the bright monolith-of-a-Hilton on Route 10,
ordered a light room service meal, showered, dried and then waited to see who
would answer my invitation.
I had picked four of the nicest, most caring, wonderful men who
I had dated since age twenty-one to just a year before my engagement. Some I saw
frequently around town, others I hadn't seen for a year or more, but I knew out of all my former lovers,
these guys would enjoy the invite, take it for what it was, and not make
anything more out of my request to “Show and Spank”. Who would respond (none
had RSVP's as per my instruction) I had no idea.
I began the festivities at 7PM, staggering my visitors with enough time
to spank, maybe have a quick drink then be on their way as I readied myself for
the next. If one failed to show I’d get a break. If they all arrived as planned it would work seamlessly; I didn’t
want one man running into another. I wanted
this evening to be as private a possible for the great guys who agreed to join
me for this last trip down memory lane. At precisely seven o'clock I was kneeling
across the end of the hotel bed, naked except for a pair of
heels, my ass cold and quivering, facing the single door.
What was I hoping for? Was this a last attempt at some
sexual excitement Anthony didn’t give me? Would this night send me back to
the “good ol’ days” and cause me to break my engagement? Certainly not; I knew
what this was all about. My husband-to-be treated me well, both in and out of bed,
even spanking me often. I merely wanted to enjoy a last fleeting taste of many
hands on my bottom, feel the wonderful nuances of different men's spankings,
all in one night, all for one last time.
I sighed into the coarse bedspread as I looked up at the
digital clock at the side night table. The hour was upon me, and hopefully Gregory, the man I
requested first, would show.
There was a knock then. I said hello as calmly as I could and
the hotel door opened (I had planned for my friend Bobbie, who worked at the front desk, to surreptitiously give a room key to my guests as they arrived) to admit my old lover with the wide blue eyes and curly
brown hair.
Gregory.
“What a nice sight,” he whispered and closed the door.
“Haven’t seen this in a long time, huh?” I asked, looking
over my shoulder.
I knew
the way I was bent I afforded my lover of six years ago a good open view of my
meaty backside. Greg and I never had any problem getting hot for one another;
he had loved my voluptuous body, as I had his rather thick frame and slightly
larger-then-average cock. He had been a bright young man when I met him our
sophomore year in college, now he was a successful business man, well-kept in
his khaki pants, brown loafers and vanilla-colored button-down shirt. Always
the picture of decorum Greg exuded class and charm. I was as attracted to him now, bent over and naked,
as I had ever been...and I could see by the smile on his clean-shaven face and
by the bulge in his pants, that the feeling was reciprocated.
“I don’t think I ever really understood to what degree you
liked to be spanked,” he sat on the bed next to me.
As the mattress sagged slightly I became even wetter; Greg
was just sitting here having a nice little chat with me as I bent there
bare-assed!
“Well, now you know,” I offered looking up at him.
“If you don’t mind, I’d like to get you across my lap,” he
said. “I mean, you lying there like that is great, but...”
“Anything you want,” I said and stood on my three-inch heels.
Again another splash of wetness flooded my pussy as I faced my old ex-lover, my
trim brown landing-strip right in his face.
“I mean, I never gave
it all very much thought before…” he added. “…when we used to do it, I just
spanked you whenever.”
“Yeah,” I sighed as a hundred memories of hot nights in
Greg’s cramped apartment came rushing back to my mind.
“But when I received your letter…” he continued as I simply
moved to his side, he scooted forward and I bent across his strong thin legs.
“…I began thinking about positions and..."
“Um,” I agreed, adjusting myself to feel his bulge against
me, then...
SWAT!
Greg’s hand landed dead center of my cheeks so unexpectedly
the breath shot out of me as I settled down across him to ride the sting.
“I remember you liked it hard,” was his only comment as I
squirmed and draped myself across the man.
I felt him raise his hand and “SWAT, SWAT” I was smacked
again.
This time he landed a heavy swat to each cheek and I was
aching between my legs as much as on my ass. I didn’t dare look over my
shoulder at the man’s handsome face; that would have been just too much
for me at that moment.
SWAT. SWAT.
“You look as good as always,” he said as the heat seared
across my buns.
SWAT. SWAT.
He hit me again, exactly like the last two.
“More than halfway,” he whispered, shifted and then I felt
Greg bend and lovingly kiss my ass!
“You don't mind, do you?” he asked, sitting back up again.
“Um, na...no,” I sighed, squeezing my legs tightly to relieve
some of the building squishiness.
“I just wanted to taste that beautiful butt one last time.”
SWAT.
SWAT. SWAT.
Cheek-to-cheek, the hardest he had swat yet! I held my
breath, spread my thighs, my belly clutched.
“I’ve got to say Jane…” Greg offered, shifting his weight to
poke me in the side with his cock. “…this was a very good idea.”
I’d say, I thought as I tried with all my might not to grind into him. I felt an impending orgasm roiling through me, I feared
I’d be too weak to stop. I was getting so very close, so very quickly, to that
point of no return where I would begin writhing and pressing myself into the
man under me…no matter if Greg would want me to our not. I had suspected I
would be turned on, especially in this oh-so-basic a position, but this quickly?
I felt Greg raise his hand again, reposition himself. Going
rigid I waited, pressing down, willing the orgasm to hold off at least for a
few more seconds.
SMACK!
I was hit dead center, high, hard and even and I jumped as Greg
left his open palm on my ass and pressed down; though I had an entire night
ahead of me, I really couldn’t stop myself. It was a matter of having a quick
release now, maybe more later too, or denying myself for a real explosion
later…that’s if there would be a later, I had no real idea of how many of my "invited" would show.
What to do?!
My mind pulled one way and my pussy another. I was starting
to circle my pelvis, grinding down, the heat really coming up through me now,
Greg’s hand on my ass…
“Is that champagne for us?”
Fuck!!
I wanted to scream! Greg leaned back, took his hand off my
ass and indicated in no uncertain terms we were done.
I reluctantly rose off of him, my knees shaking, my pussy hot,
but my mind at least, for the moment, sliding down off that precipice of
impending need. I stood to look down at his wide, thin-lipped smile. Still so
goddamned matter-of-fact!
“Fucker,” I thought and smiled at him.
I managed to walk across the carpet and indeed poured two glasses of
champagne (I had brought a number of plastic glasses).
“Thanks,” was all I could manage as I passed him a glass.
“Thanks for…coming.”
We both decided to ignore the loaded meaning in that simple
word. Greg knew how close I had been. I knew he knew that I knew he knew.
Shit, I did need
this drink!
“I wouldn’t have missed it,” he said, raised his glass in
salute and downed the sparkling liquid in one gulp.
I sipped mine; I had a long night ahead of me.
“I assume there are more guys scheduled,” he said, stood and
smiled down at me.
“I...” I demurely answered, looking up under my curly bangs.
I sat down suddenly aware of how naked I was…not that I was about to get
dressed though.
“‘A last night’s indulgence’,” he quoted me. “Though I’m
flattered to have been invited, knowing you there’s got to be a couple more
coming.”
And just like that Greg kissed my lips, stood back from me,
smiled, handed me his glass and turned to leave.
“See ya at the church,” he said and then left the room.
Yeah, Greg was one of the guys who had
been invited to the ceremony as well as this night.
Far from leaving me like the typical, "who-done-her-and-ran"
Greg was the kind of guy who knew exactly what he was doing by just upping and
leaving so quickly; he wanted to tease me as well as spank me.
I had thirty minutes to wait for my next...if he showed.
And he did...when the time came for my second man, Gerald, I assumed my
position again and there came a knock at my door not a mere minute past the
hour.
The first thing I heard, even before Gerald’s heavy
footfall, was the “swish” in the air behind me, followed by a tight: “Don’t
turn around.”
“I was hoping I’d find you like this, you said: ‘You’d be
waiting,'” he added
Fear shot through me then, delicious, clutching fear as
again I heard a short, quick flick in the still air of the room. God, had he
brought...? Gerald had always had a very good imagination, but I had not
mentioned props or toys and he had never introduced something
other then his hand before. God knew I did want various implements used on me, I’d see
a wooden spoon in one of my date’s kitchens and I would feel my heart go into
spasms! But for Gerald to have brought something with him?!
“Remember that time at George’s house, during the party?” my
ex asked as my mind quickly flitted back to a night some seven years before.
Gerald and I had skirted off to a small bedroom at his
friend’s house during a Superbowl party and I was soundly spanked right
on our host’s bed, my face inching into the coats of the other party goers. That
was one of my most erotic memories...as well as being one of the hardest
spankings I have ever endured; Gerald and I urged on by the chance of exposure.
“This is going to be ten times worse,” he added and then I
heard the tight flick cut in the air again.
This time the fucking thing landed!
It had to be a thin branch of some kind; it stung like all
hell! But not only was I stinging, I was suddenly struck with a picture of
Gerald, long and lanky in his usual black jeans and tight T-shirt, walking
across the hotel lobby attempting to hide the long stick!
“Szip,” the thing said and I rolled to the bed to try and
get away from the sting searing my tight ass.
“Szip.” “Szip.”
Two more times the thing connected across my cheeks in the
silence and I managed to look over my shoulder then at the man with the steely
blue eyes behind me.
“Hi ya doll,” he said and I watched as his hand rose and the
wooden stick flicked through the still hotel room air and bit me just below my
ass, to the upper part of my thick thighs.
“Szip.” “Szip.”
“Ah Gerald, ah!” I screamed. Shit, we were getting loud;
would Bobbie be running down the hall any second to warn us of complaints to the hotel
switchboard?
“You never said what I could hit you with,” he remarked and
I just lay my face down into the cool bedspread, knowing he was reaching back
again.
“Man, look at those little red marks,” he teased and again,
“Szip.” “Szip.” Szip”, I was cut.
I started to cry as the heat rode up my flanks. God, could I
take this? I lost count, had that been eight or nine? How many more were coming?
“One last one,” Gerard said. “Let’s see if we can get you to
stand.”
I did as he asked, finally looking at him fully. He was
regarding every inch of me from under his heavy lids, his cheeks aglow, his smile wide on his tight, dark face. Even then, as terrible as those
searing cuts had been, I felt safe with Gerald. He wasn’t a big guy to be sure;
actually almost skinny, but his confidence had always made me feel
safe and warm when I was around him, safe like I felt right then. Although I
knew the last slice would really hurt and although I feared feeling it, my fear
was delightful since I trusted Gerald. I was utterly aroused in my blind safe terror.
I reached my hands to the edge of the bed and thrust my ass
out.
“Last one is going to be bad...” he promised. “...worst yet.
But when it’s over it’s over.”
I braced myself and whimpered, tears rolling down my cheeks,
legs shaking. God, was this wonderful, I thought as I heard the branch flick
the air and it hit me a half second later.
SNIP!
I fell to my knees. I was hurting to be sure, searing red
pain, but the endorphins mixed with my clutching arousal and I came. Kneeling
forward on my knees, feeling my hot ass for marks, a quick, gulping undulation
gripped me as I crumbled there, gulping my tears and my orgasm.
“Wild,” Gerald announced, coming to my aid.
He knelt, I sat up slowly and he took me in his
sinewy arms as we both rode out my sobs.
“That’s what you wanted,” Gerald reminded me, as I looked up at
him a minute later.
Our lips met.
This was the last thing I was expecting, but we kissed for a
while, Gerald’s strong tongue finding an easy access through my thin lips, the
pain on my ass numbing as I concentrated on rolling my own tongue over his.
“Um,” I said when we finally broke. “Um, help me up.”
Gerald helped me to stand and then walked me to the mirror
that ran from one side of the bathroom sink to the bathtub.
“Feels a lot worse then it looks,” I said, looking over my
shoulder to the sight of ten thin red lines staining my tan cheeks.
I was red. I was stinging. But truth be told, my ass didn’t
look bad at all. The sting of the cane, the idea that it was that instrument hitting me, the slice
it had made in the air before it connected, all this added to the idea of how
lethal the thing was, but there really were no marks on me. Crafty Gerald had
hit me just enough to cause those quick searing jolts but not enough to make a
lasting impression anyplace else but in my mind.
And even then I was thinking about the last two men I hoped
would still visit me.
“Wild,” Gerald said, kissing me on the shoulder and walked
from the bathroom.
“Really fucking wild,” he announced at the room’s door.
“Stay for a drink?” I asked.
“Honey, if I stay I’m going to want to do more then whip
you,” he explained, tickling a lock of errant straight black bang from his high
forehead.
“That’s why I just came in and got right to it. I couldn’t
give myself any extra seconds looking at your body and imagining what it would
be like to be with you again.”
“I...” I tried, smiling.
“You are one hot lady Janey,” he added. “Always were and
always will be.”
Gerald smiled then chuckled, lifted his cane from the
side of the bed, and left the room.
For the next fifteen minutes I vacillated between short
sobs and laughter: all a delayed reaction to so hard a beating and the
memories of Gerald and Greg that flitted through my mind then.
This night was as much a right of passage, as anything else, I knew. I was
leaving one life, the single world I had so long ago physically left, and
stepping into my life with my soon-to-be husband. For sure, I had been faithful
during the two years I had been with Anthony and wouldn’t have wanted my life
to have been any different, but with Gerald and Greg I began to remember that a
great part of me was being a sexually submissive woman. It was good I was
hurting, that my ass was stinging; like everyone I needed to be reminded from
time to time of my real feelings.
There was no way I’d be going into my marriage without
asserting my non-assertiveness.
I was sitting on the bed when the door slowly slid open.
Carl was undoubtedly one of the best looking men I had ever
dated, and also one of the gentlest. He spoke barely above a whisper, smiled
easily and was by far one of the kindest guys I had ever known. He had also
been meticulous in bed; taking time, setting candles, pouring wine, drawing
scented baths, easing me to heights of such abandon that at one time I could
imagine no other lover. But as things go in life we broke up; Carl was ten
years my senior and building businesses all over the country...and I wasn’t
leaving town. But I never forgot him and had managed to discover his address
from a friend of a friend. He was the one man I had thought wouldn’t show up given
the three hundred miles that separated us but I was tickled to no end that he
had. I rushed over to the door, as if I was clothed and we were just meeting
for a usual Saturday night date.
“Ah,” he said, breaking from my quick embrace. “Now, now.
Let’s have a look at you.”
I turned completely around like I always had when Carl
inspected me. He liked to have me model outfits he bought for me, which I
always readily did.
“I guess you weren’t joking, huh?”
“No,” I admitted, slithering to him again.
I guess Gerald’s whipping had gotten the better of me. The
delightful smirk on Carl’s face, his cool blue eyes and fine cut jaw were so
enticing I ached to jump him then and there.
“You know...” he said, sitting on the bed as I followed.
“...I don’t remember spanking you all that much.”
This was true, although he had swatted me a few times, soft
over-the-knee spankings, and he knew well how I loved them, Carl had had other
ways of making me submit. Those modeling sessions I mentioned often led to us
going to dinner with me wearing a skimpy outfit out, sans underwear or bra.
“But, when in Rome…”
he quipped and pulled me up and over his lap.
“Ten, right?” he said and as I lay there I felt his fingers
snake in-between my thighs. I opened and ached as he tickled my tight wet lips.
“As wet as always,” he whispered exploring my suffering sex.
This was the first time all night I had been touched and I was aching for it.
But then I was hit.
My ass was alive, even after Gerald’s numbing caning. I
bucked as Carl retreated his fingers from between my legs and began to swat
evenly and softly. He had a way of pushing down on me after every swat, as if
willing me to grind against him even harder then I already was!
On the handsome man’s fifth swat I began to moan aloud and
really grind.
“Going to come?” Carl asked and SWAT, SWAT I was hit
cheek-to-cheek.
“Go ahead, go ahead,” he coaxed as I was hit two more times:
SWAT, SWAT.
I clutched down with
all my might, rubbed my clit against his strong legs and grabbed the bed spread
in fistfuls.
“Go Janey, go,” he said as he hit me three last times and on
the last swat Carl laid his hand to my hot ass, I rubbed.
“Oh, oh,” I cried, tears welling up in my eyes as I pushed
up and back to his hand then lay flat on his knees.
“Yes Janey.”
“Ohhhahoh,” I sang as I clenched, repeated pushing my buns
up into Carl’s palm…then settled my steaming pussy into his knee.
“Yessssss,” he whispered, flattened his hand even more,
lifted his knee slightly.
Straightening my body out across Carl’s strong lap I
clenched my stinging cheeks, let the tears come and flexed my pelvis so I was
unabashedly fucking his knee.
“Fuck…Fuck…Fuuuck!” I screamed as I bucked myself into him
and came…and came…and came.
Jesus, it was so fast and so hard!
“Just stay there, honey,” Carl said after I rode my last
wave.
I really didn’t have much of a choice; I was exhausted and
feeling just the slightest chill. I heard him pour himself a glass of
champagne.
“All these years and we never really change all that much,
do we?” Carl began as if we were simply having a nice chat over wine and
cheese. “It’s all so bizarre how our minds work, isn’t it?”
What could I say? Given the time, Carl could ruminate on all
manner of things; he just had one of those minds. And I felt once again, lying
across him as he lightly pontificated, like the student I had always felt like
around him. And again, for the inexplicable reasons I had never explored, I
grew wet between my legs again and stared to wiggle.
“Janey, you are
incorrigible,” he said. I heard him sip, then reach over me to place the glass
down.
“Now, now,” he scolded. “Do we have to do this all over
again?!”
SMACK, SMACK, SMACK, SMACK, SMACK, SMACK, SMACK, he rained
down on my ass as I bucked.
These swats were considerably heavier, the
hardest Carl had ever hit me.
“Shit!” I screamed, trying to rise off his lap.
“Janey, Janey Janey,” he added and then I was swat four more
times, so hard I cried out and rolled off him and onto the bed on the tenth.
I lay stilled, hurting, sweaty and aching to come again. I
was on my back, open, ready for whatever he wanted to do and knowing well that
I shouldn’t even be entertaining these thoughts, I couldn’t keep myself from
them! But my older ex, my teacher, my spanker, just leaned in to me as if I was
his child, and kissed me on the forehead.
“I wish you the best of all worlds,” Carl said, standing
then. I lay flat and turned my head to the cool bedspread to smile up at him.
“Now that you have my address, you better keep in touch.”
“Have a good rest of the night, little one,” he said and a
tear came to my eye again then as he opened the door and I watched his high
tight buns exit the room.
Delighted with the luck I had had and the spankings I had
endured, I could have easily left then. But for some reason I really wanted to
see Blaine most of all. Although
the tall black man and I had talked about him spanking me (among other things),
for some reason I could never quite fathom, Blaine
and I had never managed past the heavy-petting stage. We had dated for a quick
three months during our first year in college; a fast, furious time when I was
so unsure of myself, bristling with such super-heated, kinetic possibilities
that I never really noticed what a great guy I had in the long-nosed guy with
the magnificent smile. Blaine and I were more buds then actual
boyfriend/girlfriend and remained as close as ever after our romance-such that
it had been-petered out and he was the second of these men who was invited to
the wedding.
There was a knock. My heart skipped. I sat as quietly as I
could and crossed my legs, placed my arm across my chest. Blaine
had never seen me naked and I didn’t want to startle him. The tall black man
walked into the room, took off his glasses (glasses he hadn’t been wearing when
we last saw one another) and smiled down at me.
“Hello,” he offered, standing in such a shocked stance that
he kept the door wide open!
“Blaine, the
door,” I whispered and he laughed and then closed it behind him.
I didn’t move as he walked slowly toward me.
“What’s it been, like a year?” he queried, still smiling. I
could get lost in his deep dimples.
“Yes,” I agreed, looking up at him. “Yeah I think. Maybe a
little less.”
If I damn well wasn’t a virgin (and I wasn’t) I was feeling
so then. Just having Blaine see me
naked, being vulnerable to him like this, was so startling that goose bumps
rose across my skin.
“That was quite a letter,” he said, sitting on the bed then.
I could smell his thick cologne; his sinewy chocolate arm actually brushed my
thigh.
“An invite,” I corrected, demurely looking up at him as I
tried to keep my arms locked to my chest.
I was aching just to open myself, stand up off the bed and
show off. Let him see what he never got the chance to see, let him touch,
taste, even smell my muskiness.
Please, I
whispered in my mind, please just ask me
to stand up and face you!
“An invite,” Blaine
said, as if running behind the conversation a few seconds.
“I’ve thought about you a lot,” he continued and damn if I
didn’t see a soft tear in his right eye! “I mean, we had some great times.”
“We did, we did,” I agreed.
Ask me to stand up,
please, I yelled to myself. The last thing I needed now was Blaine
getting all emotional with nostalgia...that would easily lead to me getting all emotional with nostalgia.
“Good times,” he repeated, the light in his eyes far away.
Was I losing him? Jesus, I had never expected a sentimental
walk down memory lane...mainly because I didn’t want one. I figured the
spankings would keep all those old feelings at bay, but truth be told I had
been crying over these very feelings only a little while ago. Why would I have the
exclusive rights on regret?
But just as I thought I might have to embrace him, Blaine
suddenly cleared his throat, looked nearly through me and added: “And now, here you are naked as all hell and I’m gonna get
the chance to spank you!”
Rivers of stilted anticipation ran over me as my ex and
forever friend stood.
“Now, let me have a look at you,” he softly demanded. “A
real good look I never got to have.”
“Stand,” he said and I did so, nearly swooning as I stood tall on my heels.
“Turn around and walk to the bathroom,” he said and I did.
Not one sound from him as I did as commanded. I was hot with
desire to wiggle my ass, or turn and shake my big breasts, anything to get a
reaction.
“Okay, come back here,” Blaine
ordered and I turned and did so.
“This excites you, huh?” he said, his eyes on my rock hard
little nipples.
“More than you know,” I agreed.
“Want me to tell you how great you look?” he asked as I
continued walking to him.
“I guess you know that already though,” he added, stood and
as I came up to him he hugged me hard and his lips found my right ear.
“I’ve never spanked anyone before,” he whispered.
“There’s always a f...” I started.
But he broke from me,
smiled and said: “I’m going to really enjoy this.”
Blaine spun me
from him then, turned me quickly and lay me against the wall. He moved with
such easy speed I literally teetered on my heels as my fingers spread across
the dark wallpaper and I settled myself, thrusting my ass out as far as it
would go, my chest and face pressed to the wall.
“Now that’s a sight,” Blaine
commented as I ached with anticipation.
“I guess I'll just do it,” he added more to himself then to me.
SWAT, his wide hand landed soft across my right cheek.
“Um,” I moaned to the wall.
“Was that too hard?” Blaine
asked and I merely moaned again and shook my head.
I could take it much harder, I wanted it much harder--shit he
could tell by the slightly raised red on my ass that I had taken it harder-but
as it had been with this man from the minute he stepped into this room only
minutes ago, I wanted Blaine to
find out for himself just what he could do.
“Okay, okay,” he agreed and SWAT, he connected again, this
time to my left cheek. “Um,” Blaine
said and again SWAT, I was hit.
He was metering the swats to a friendly, slightly hesitant
pace and I smiled to the wall as I realized that I was getting, and had had,
real spankings from my men tonight, spankings that truly befit their
personalities; from Gregory’s over the knee spanking, to Gerald’s whipping, to
Carl’s swatting and teasing to Blaine behind me now, hesitantly smacking.
“Number four,” Blaine
announced and SWAT.
A dead center hit; this one rocked me forward.
“Ah, Blaine,” I
managed. “Um, baby.”
“That’s good, huh?” he asked and SWAT, SWAT, SWAT he hit me
three times, fast and hard, all to my left cheek, actually pushing me forward so
my big tits pressed even harder into the Hilton’s
expensive wall paper.
“Blaine,” I
sighed and again he SWAT, SWAT without speaking...all on my aching left cheek!
But alas; only one more! Dammit, I thought, he was just
hitting his stride.
“Can I...?” he started and I leaned up from the wall and
turned to look over my shoulder at him. “Would it be okay, if?...I mean...”
“The more the better,” I said, finally realizing that he too
realized he was just hitting his stride.
“Ten was just an easy number,” I explained. “If you want to
go mo...”
I found out that Blaine
did want to go more, a lot more! I pressed my chest to the wall, thrust my
stinging ass back to him even further than before and…
“We have a lot to catch up on,” he said and SWAT, SWAT, SWAT.
As I lay there and Blaine
worked into a pace that began with a heavy six swats, cheek-to-cheek, I knew
that I had caught up on so much
this night. Old feelings, old loves, old stings, but most of all I had caught
up to myself...in the present, a woman who loved to be spanked, would continue
to be spanked and would forever cherish the men who had spanked her and the one
who would exclusively do so for my future.