This is a work of fiction that contains M/f spanking and some sexual content. If you are not of age or are offended by either, well, damn. Don’t read it. I mean really, do I have to spell it out.
Also, this is an original work by Violet Elder. Any reproduction or reprinting of this work must have the express written permission of the author. Copyright applies.
She needed it.
It seemed that since the first time they had spoken, which really hadn’t been speaking at all, but a volley of email from one to the next, from the onset, she had needed. As the time passed and they became ever more closely intimate with all matters of personality, experiences, and of course, arousal, she realized that what was once desire had taken to itself a deeply seated urgency. No longer could their meeting be relegated to terms of “perhaps” or of “maybe someday”. As matter of fact, just this Sunday evening, while she was preparing for bed, came the oh so familiar tinkling jingle of her cellphone. She had turned down the coverlet, climbed inside, then checked the message.
When she had read the words three times (once for curiosity, twice for clarity, and the third time to be sure she wasn’t dreaming already), she could feel her heart hammering away behind her ribs. Someday had a name now. Someday had materialized and been turned into Thursday noon. Being very sure of herself, she was certain that this anticipation she felt was simply celebration that such a meeting was at long last going to materialize. How many times had she daydreamed about what the day would be like? She was sure she couldn’t say. It was difficult for her to manage to sleep, but there was work tomorrow and she knew that the only thing to do would be to roll over and try to doze off.
Of course the next day her first thought was one of anticipation. She breezed her way through her morning routine, thinking to herself that by this time next week, she would be remembering Thursday instead of anticipating it so keenly. Perhaps her hands lingered a bit longer upon her backside as she dressed. Maybe her thoughts were a little cloudy as she leaned across the corner of the bed to reach her tennis shoes. It might have been possible that as she looked in the mirror while brushing her hair, perhaps she blushed a few shades darker when she realized how turned on she was by the very idea of hairbrushes doing other things. His words regarding hairbrush being a transitive verb in his house…she might have looked that email up a few times.
The week seemed to pass far too slowly at first, and as days began to hurry past, her anticipation both heightened and became edged with a tension. In her college years, when she did a lot of theatre, she would have called it “stage fright”. What if she wasn’t brave enough? What would happen if she couldn’t bring herself to that door and knock? Would she manage to go through with this, or would she beg forgiveness and leave before anything could happen at all? What if, she thought, a knot in her stomach, what if she showed up and he rejected her? Would she be able to manage leaving before she lost her composure at his rejection and abandonment?
It was through sheer force of will and her natural stubbornness that she managed to not send an email telling him that her schedule had been changed. It would have been easy enough, she knew, and there would have been no way for her to be found out. She decided late Wednesday evening, just before bed, that she would sleep on it. She’d decide in the morning. Certainly, she told herself, she would be more able to decide in the morning.
The night found her sleep visited by many dreams, some of them harrowing, some of them calming. She woke with a head full of conflict, and yet that searing and aching urgency. She knew then that however nervous she might become, there was but one path for her.
She stood alone, the gleaming tops of her black shoes the only company. She could have sworn that as she knocked on the door anyone within a square mile must have looked to see what the noise was all about, although in truth, even the man in the lobby hadn’t budged from his newspaper. Her left hand fretted with the cuticle on her thumb while her right foot worried the heel of her left. She never heard footsteps approach the door, but the click of the latch was as unmistakeable as the turning of the handle. The door opened and there he stood, looking much the same as he had the last time (and first time) she had met him. His smile was still just as warm and genuine as the giant hug.
She obediently followed him from doorway to the sitting area. He had already set out water for both of them, which she was very grateful for. Not only was she actually quite thirsty, but her throat seemed very dry. She sat back in the chair, which was extremely cozy. Her mind wandered over the thoughts of the past day, her conscience chiding her overactive imagination. Lost in her thoughts for the moment, she was caught off guard when he asked what she was thinking about. Her face became warm, then intolerably hot. She could feel the flush creeping from her cheeks to her neck and even her ears. Damn her expressive body anyway.
“Just remembering some silly thoughts” she laughed, giving a dismissive gesture with her left hand. As she took another deep drink of the cool water, she allowed her eyes to finally meet his face. He seemed both amused and disappointed with her answer, but he just gave a knowing nod.
After they had discussed the limits and preferences for this very special first, he seemed keen to get right down to business, which she thought she might have found more unnerving if she hadn’t still been possessed by that same gnawing ache. Her mind and body were at war for a just a moment, her mind knowing what it wanted, her body unsure. The war was over in less than a minute, however, as he changed his position in the chair just slightly and gave her the unmistakeable and universal signal. One finger crooked in the “come hither” movement while his other hand gently patted his lap.
She caught her breath, her heart jumped around for a moment, but in less than half a second her feet had already obeyed his silent command. As she came steadily closer to him, his face softened and he took her cold hands in his for a moment.
“Look at me, darling.” his voice was calm, a smooth baritone. As her eyes met his, she saw them soften and crinkle just a bit around the edges. She felt herself begin to loosen and release some of the tension in her legs, which she would have sworn were shaking enough for her knees to knock together. “sit” he said, pulling her towards his lap. “relax”
She allowed herself to be pulled down and sat upon his lap. At first she felt ridiculous, sitting here as if she was a little girl, but within just a few moments, she began to release the tension in her shoulders. Of course, it was very helpful that his right hand was rubbing large circles around her shoulder blades. She let her head hang down, her chin almost touching her chest. It had been a very long time since she had been sitting on anyone’s lap. She leaned herself towards his chest, feeling very safe and secure, which was definitely unusual for her. She tried to not think about things too much. She was almost floating when his voice broke her temporary repose.
“Now, about those silly thoughts.” he changed his voice just slightly when he echoed her words. It wasn’t the snide tone that people use when arguing, more like the teasing tone that one would hear from a cousin, or a brother. She smiled, in spite of herself. She wasn’t sure quite how to explain her thought process of the last 24 hours. He would obviously think her an idiot. She certainly considered herself one for having such thoughts.
“They really were….just….well, silly thoughts.” she said, half a smile on her lips as she shook her head. She saw no reason to fill him in on just how crazy her mind could become. His hand had stopped stroking her shoulders long enough to make its way around her shoulders. His left hand found her chin, and crooking an index finger under it, he lifted it and leaned back so that they could both see one another.
“You do realize that I am not going to let you off that easily, don’t you?” he asked, his eyes still calm and warm. He had the hint of a smile on his face, but it was the smile of the cat who has cornered its prey and merely toying with it.
She felt her stomach drop, and she forgot to breathe for an intense moment. She didn’t want to admit to him how foolish she had been, but she knew that he was speaking the truth. He was not going to let it go, and for goodness sake, she was here for more than a social visit. She knew where refusal would land her. This was supposed to be more fun than punishment, and she definitely wanted to keep it that way. She looked away and sighed, not sure quite how to put this into words. She became aware that she was being stood back up.
“Up then,” he said, bringing her to her feet and then quickly trapping her between his thighs. Before she could manage to get any words out of her mouth, she found herself lying prostrate across his lap, her backside in the air at a most unladylike angle. This was not how she had imagined it at all, but then again, it was exactly how she had imagined it.
“Wait!” she tried to call out, but it was too late. She felt his hand come down upon her backside once, then once again on the other cheek. She had her skirt and panties still, but there was no mistaking that he meant business. She took advantage of the pause and started letting the words spill out as they would. She hadn’t meant to be in trouble so soon!
“I was excited at first, but then I got…well. I don’t know. I guess I got nervous.” Sure, nervous was probably the understatement of the decade, more like absolutely freaked out…paired with the incredible amount she had been turned on when she arrived…yeah…not something she wanted to admit.
“All that blush over a little nerves?” he sounded unconvinced. “I think there is more. So what else is there that you don’t want to admit?” there was a pause. The irony, of course, was they were both waiting for the other to say more. “Did you know that half the truth is the same as a lie?”
Of course she knew, in principle, that he was right. That didn’t change the fact that no way in hell did she want to own up to her freakout. What choice did she have? Even now she could feel him peeling her skirt up and lying it upon her back. She felt his hand, large and warm, lay across the small of her back.
“One last chance, take it or leave it.” he said gently. “But if you insist on lying, then I am going to remind you of what happens to girls that lie. You do know what happens to girls that tell lies, don’t you?” he chided gently. She was pretty sure she had a good idea.
“I think so.” she said quietly,
“You think so,” he countered “Or you know?”
As he finished, he hooked his fingers just under the waistband of her white full-cut panties. She fully expected him to pull them off, but he didn’t. “I can tell you it involves a lot of ouch, and none of this.” he said, gently tugging.
She considered. Although she didn’t want to own up to just how much she had freaked out, all that would cost her was some embarrassment, and he knew her. Chances are, he would understand why she had freaked out, possibly better than she did. If she kept trying his patience on this, she was sure it would be very unpleasant. She had looked forward to this meeting so much and certainly didn’t want it to be marred by an impromptu punishment first thing. Besides, her backside was still stingy from the first two swats, and that was with her skirt and panties for protection. She didn’t want to go cold into a bare bottom punishment. She sighed, not much of a choice, really.
“Okay” she said. “I’ll talk” she almost giggled at herself. She sounded like a prisoner being interrogated. And this was silly, wasn’t it? She felt his hands smooth her skirt back down into place and he was pushing her back to her feet. She was a bit shaken. It would have been much easier to make this confession face down over a lap, his hands ever at the ready, should she decide to change her mind. Now she was very tempted to cut corners and leave as much out as she could.
“Alright then.” he said seriously “out with it.”
She opened her mouth to speak, but he held up his left hand in a stop gesture.
“I do mean all of it. If I think you’ve left anything out, ” he looked her square in the eye ” there will be no reprieve.”
She swallowed and nodded her head in agreement. “I understand” she said quietly, looking at his feet.
“I was worried that when the time came,” she had to look at the middle of his chest. She couldn’t stand to see the look on his face when she told him the whole truth. “that maybe I would chicken out and not come.” she chanced a look up and he was listening, intently, so she continued. “I was afraid that maybe if I did come, well, maybe I might not manage to make it through, you know, the whole thing before I stopped things. That I might be a disappointment. I worried, ” she said, gaining a little confidence “that I might show up and then lose my nerve.” She stopped for a moment when he interjected a question
“But you didn’t, did you?” he said, getting up out of the chair and putting his hands on her shoulders. “You came and you haven’t lost your nerve at all so far, have you?” he pulled her chin up until her eyes met his once more “Have you realized that you went over my lap without the least bit of resistance?”
She realized that he was right about that. Absolutely right. She had a moment of victory, and then she remembered the rest of what had worried her, and felt immediately and immensely guilty. Her face must have given her away. His head had cocked to the side just a bit. “But there’s something yet,” he said “isn’t there?” She nodded her agreement, unable to give voice to it just yet. There was a lump growing in her trachea, swelling with every breath she took. She didn’t want to admit that she had doubted him, and especially not to him, but there was that expectant look on his face. She had no doubt that should she back down now, he would keep on until she confessed it all to him anyway. She made up her mind that she didn’t want it to be like that.
“I was…afraid. worried.” she admitted. “I know I am not…” she was messing this all up. “when you used to tell me stories about the other girls you have known…” her statement intoned up at the end, like a question. She waited until he nodded that he understood, and she continued. “well, I’m not like them. I’m damaged. I’m not usual.” She was afraid he was going to say something, so she kept on talking, afraid that if she stopped she would never get all of the words out. ” I was afraid that you would realize that I was not who you thought I might be, and that you might change your mind.” Her voice began to crack, and she could feel those traitor tears gathering up, making her look like a weaker girl “I was worried about how I would react to that. I wanted to be able to leave gracefully, I didn’t want to make you feel guilty about it, you know, if you had second thoughts.” She could feel the tears making their escape, but slowly. taunting her as they strolled down her cheek. “I just didn’t want to be rejected.” she wasn’t able to read the expression on his face, so she continued, before she lost her nerve. “Then when I got here, you were so wonderful. You made me feel so safe and so welcome.” she laughed ruefully, “and I realized how turned on I was just at the prospect of being here. I felt very ridiculous for thinking such nonsense.” She drew in a shaky breath. “So, I hope you’ll forgive me for not telling you earlier. It was very embarrassing for me to admit that.”
He had been so quiet, she was taken by surprise a bit when he drew her in for a close embrace. “I understand, darling.” he said, mostly to the top of her head. “Those are pretty normal feelings, you know. I don’t want you too feel too embarrassed to tell me how you feel. If I am going to top you, spank you, and hold you afterward,” he said, sending another flip to her stomach, which was already in knots, “I need to know where your mind is.” She looked up and him and nodded, not feeling as if she could speak just yet. He leaned in and kissed the tip of her nose and smiled, and then he mocked seriousness, slipping into character effortlessly. “But for now, young lady” her stomach dropped again, along with her eyes. She studied the tops of her shiny black shoes again, waiting for the inevitable. “I believe we have a very long overdue discussion.”
“Yes we do” she said, hint of smile at the corner of her mouth. She took his extended hand and allowed him to guide her into the same position as before, backside in the air once more, as he began swatting playfully at first, both of them laughing.
“Funny, is it?!?” he said with mock outrage
She giggled, unable to resist a little sass. “yeah, it is kinda funny.” She wasn’t surprised at all that her answer resulted in her skirt being pulled up. A crisp smack landed on the seat of her panties. It stung a little, but still, nowhere near serious yet. She jumped as the next slap landed closer to the junction of her thigh. It did hurt, but it also seemed to connect to…other parts…”Oooh” she said in response.
He said not a word, but continued beating out what became a more steady rhythm on her cheeks. Every now and again another would land in that spot, the one that sent zings to her very aroused sex. Before long, it seemed that almost every smack would elicit those wonderful feelings. She became aware of the way that she had begun to writhe and grind herself on him as much as was possible. He stopped for a moment and she panicked. She was no way ready for him to stop now.
It was with more relief than embarrassment that she realized he was not finished. He had merely stopped long enough to remove those full cut panties. Her backside was burning, but she didn’t mind that too much. She found that the burning, too, turned her on. Did that make her a masochist? She wasn’t sure. Maybe she would find out eventually, as for right now, she was being brought back to the here and now by the presence of a hand working its way up to the juncture between her legs. Slowly and meticulously a finger (or was it two?) found its way to her slick opening. She could tell by just the feel of his skin sliding easily inside her that she was outrageously wet. To make matters worse, as he pushed himself inside, she felt herself pushing back towards him, trying to assist him in getting as far as possible.
“Oh my,” he chided, clucking to himself. “Here I have been working at punishing, and yet you seem to be enjoying it quite a lot, don’t you?” he pulled his hand out of her, laying a very loud smack across her cheek.
She bucked upwards as soon as it landed. That one hurt! Her anger was short lived, as he had already begun to soothe it by rubbing his warm hand over the area. Of course, as soon as he took the slightest bit of sting out, smack! He laid a fresh smack upon the other side, following by rubbing it. He continued this for what seemed like forever in what was likely a minute or two. Then he was back inside her again, She was pushing back against him, again. Then, once again, she moaned her frustration when he removed his hand again.
“You naughty girl” he said, leaning over her, his breath hot against her right ear.
smack! went his hand against her bottom, which was beginning to take on a darker red hue. She felt him lean over her again, felt the tickle of his breath against her ear.
“What happens to naughty little girls, my darling?” The next slap caught her off guard, a small yelp escaped her lips. “That was a hint. Tell me. What do naughty girls get?”
“Naughty little girls get spankings.” she said, a bit more breathlessly than she meant to. The next smack landed, which elicited another small yelp.
“MmmHmmm.” he agreed. “and just how are they spanked?” he asked, landing two rapid-fire spanks upon each cheek.
“OOOh!” she cried “over your knee, on their bare bottoms!” She felt him lean back. He began delivering solid smacks to each cheek in turn, searing her backside into a hot, dark red. He worked his way from the crown of her bottom all the way to the delicate undercheeks, where he applied the most solid slaps. As his right hand worked on her cheeks, she was aware of his left hand cupping her pudenda. Each time a swat would land, it pushed her into his left hand. She could feel the tension coiling in her lower belly, each blow bringing her closer and closer. At last, he sped up the rhythm until she could contain it no longer. She cried out as she came hard, writhing and grinding her hips into his thigh. He soothed her backside with his right hand until she was able to get up.
He helped her lift herself up off of his lap and he sat her once again on top of it. He leaned back and pulled her to his chest while she cried. She cried as she hadn’t in years. She cried not from pain, not at all. It wasn’t a sad crying as much as it was just a release. When she was only sniffling, he helped her back to her feet.
And then he sent her to the corner. He would tell you it was because she deserved it.
She would tell you it was because he wanted an excuse to spank her again.
and the truth lies somewhere between the two.