Six of the Best Spanking Stories - Volume 2

by Miranda Forbes

  He gave me an address and left.

  I concentrated on the picture. Michelle looked younger than me. Mid to late 20s, at a guess. And the photo had been taken outside. The wind had flicked the bottom of her knee-length designer dress revealing a hint of thigh. Creamy. The sort you’d like to run a hand up past the curly pubes or the smoothly-shaved flesh into what I’d guess was a tight little crack.

  That’s how it is. I can’t help myself. One minute I’m thinking of work, the next I’m on a five-minute fantasy trip because my imagination’s run wild.

  Actually, I can help myself. I gazed hungrily at the gorgeous creature, my tongue wetting my lips as I reached down and unzipped my jeans. My fingers ran down under my panties, slowly over my clit, onto the engorged lips of my dampening pussy, then back again. Up. Down. Up. Down. My clit hardened, the juices began to flow, two fingers delved deeper with each thrust. Faster, faster, until I bit my lip, arched backwards, and my hips jerked hard as I orgasmed into my knickers with a satisfied groan.

  Good job I carry spares, I thought, as I rinsed the come-drenched panties under the tap in my office’s makeshift kitchen. The jeans followed, otherwise the dark, sweet-smelling stain would dry solid and be most uncomfortable between my legs. No matter, I would just have to wear the denim skirt I kept in reserve.

  At 6.30 p.m. I stopped discreetly near the target’s house, my battered old Ford loaded with gear including the tiny digital camera and a good stash of food. It could be a long night.

  The BMW appeared from the drive at 8.10, Michelle behind the wheel. I gave it a few seconds then drove out onto the road behind her. We reached the city 40 minutes later. Fortunately the car park she used was a big one, which meant I could park a good distance away from her.

  Following someone on foot isn’t so easy, but thankfully after five minutes she went into one of the huge office blocks lining the street. I hurried over the road and climbed the steps. There was a plaque next to the entrance. Strange that a building which housed a firm of accountants and an insurance company during the day also had a night club in the basement.

  When I opened the solid oak door the blast of a jazzed-up version of Sex on Fire made me wince. My eyes adjusted to the dim light on my way down the plush, pink carpeted staircase. It led to one end of a cellar bar. I couldn’t see the other end for the numerous bobbing heads of the dancers. Hopefully one of them would be my client’s wife with the other man.

  I weaved my way between the punters at the edge of the packed dance floor and found my quarry at the far end of the cellar. She was tucked away in a dimly-lit, four-seater booth with a bespectacled guy wearing a dark suit and tie. It was clear from the way his arms were waving that he was upset. I checked the tiny digital camera in my black leather bag. If they were going to have a bust-up the sooner I got a photo of them the better.

  There was a vacant stool at the rounded corner of the bar where I could see them. I ordered half a lager. It would last longer than my usual vodka ice, and I needed to keep a clear head.

  Seconds later, the band announced a break. It signalled a rush to top up the drinks. I was suddenly surrounded by a screeching mob, all vying with each other for attention and blocking my view of the booth.

  Sliding off the stool, I picked up my glass, jostled my way through the throng – and smacked into someone heading towards me.

  ‘Oh, shit,’ I groaned, as lager slopped out of the glass and splattered onto what looked like a very expensive halter dress.

  ‘Language, love,’ said Michelle.

  So much for me keeping my distance.

  I tugged out a packet of tissues from my bag and handed them over. ‘Sorry,’ I said. ‘I’m not normally so clumsy.’

  ‘You can apologise by getting me a white wine spritzer,’ she said, not as abruptly as she might have done. ‘I’ll be in there, hiding while this lot dries out.’

  She pointed to the booth she’d just vacated. I was about to ask if her friend would like one too, then I noticed he’d gone.

  ‘Sorry it took so long,’ I said, reaching over to stand the spritzer in front of her.

  The funky girl looked from me to her drink then back again. ‘Where’s yours?’

  ‘Over there.’ I nodded towards a nearby table. ‘I thought you had company.’

  She smiled. ‘I would have if you joined me.’

  I didn’t hesitate; after all I had a job to do. Anyway, what better way to find out the facts than face to pretty face?

  ‘Right, thanks.’ I collected the lager and slid onto the seat opposite her.

  ‘Cheers,’ she said.

  ‘Good health.’ We clinked glasses. ‘What happened to the guy who was with you?’

  ‘The what?’ She laughed, a tinkling, melodious laugh that made my insides shiver. ‘That was Fiona. We were talking business and she went off in a huff.’

  ‘Oh, right.’ I grinned at my mistake. Even if I had got a picture it would have been useless.

  ‘My dress has just about dried out now,’ she said. ‘There’s only this bit.’ She used one of the tissues to dab at a damp streak on the wrinkled chiffon between her boobs. ‘And this one.’ Her left breast jiggled as she used gentle upward strokes on it.

  I had to restrain myself from reaching over and helping. To say she was delectable would have been the understatement of the year.

  ‘Shouldn’t be long before it’s fully dry,’ I said, which was in complete contrast to the mounting dampness inside my pussy. I squeezed my thighs together. I should have brought another pair of spare knickers.

  ‘I’m Bella. You haven’t been here before, have you?’

  ‘Lucy,’ I said, matching her fib with mine. ‘No, I haven’t.’

  ‘Then welcome.’

  As we chatted she danced her laughing eyes on mine, ran a pink tongue around those full, luscious lips, tapped the back of my hand to make a point. No longer was it dampness threatening my panties, they were soaked.

  She checked her watch, breaking the spell.

  ‘Jools is having a party at her place,’ she said. ‘Coming?’

  From the way she smiled she knew I already had.

  I accepted a lift in her BMW. As far as work was concerned I wasn’t doing too well. Otherwise things were going great.

  We entered the huge house to Afro-American hip-hop music belting out from surround-sound speakers in a room big enough for a tennis court.

  Already there were couples dancing. Mostly women together, one or two with men, some of them so cosy it seemed they might have been there all evening. Even as I scanned the room a pair sidled off through a door opposite the curtained-off french windows.

  I needed to have a look round just in case. In case of what I wasn’t sure, but I couldn’t settle unless I got my bearings and formed an exit plan. Once a private eye and all that.

  ‘I expect this place has half a dozen cloakrooms,’ I hinted.

  ‘Probably,’ said Bella. ‘The nearest is through the dining room.’ She pointed past a 50-inch TV screen built into the wall. ‘There’s a set of stairs at each end, too, if you want to look round the house.’

  I did. The exits were no problem.

  ‘Here you go,’ said Bella on my return. She handed me a glass of red wine. ‘Come on, if we’re quick there’s an empty sofa in the corner.’

  We made it. I removed my jacket, she took it from me and laid it on a nearby chair. The sofa offered me a good view of the proceedings. As we settled down I studied the 20 or so guys in the room. If she swung both ways it was still possible there was another man in her life.

  ‘Do you live round here?’ I asked, as if I didn’t know.

  She was about to answer when a craggy-faced man approached, his T-shirt stained with sweat from where he’d been cavorting on the dance floor.

  ‘H
orrible creature, Lucy,’ Bella murmured, from the corner of her mouth. ‘Help me out.’

  A lady in distress. I jumped to my feet. ‘Come on then,’ I said, as if I’d just asked her to dance.

  He looked disgruntled as hand in hand we headed past him.

  ‘Where are we going?’ I asked, when she led me past the dining room to the bottom of the staircase.

  She stopped. ‘To find a bedroom. Is that all right?’

  I turned to face her. She knew my answer.

  Her hand reached out and touched my cheek. She put her lips to mine. Briefly. A butterfly kiss. I could taste her lip gloss. Fruit flavoured.

  ‘Come on,’ she urged, her voice hoarse.

  Once upstairs we headed along the landing past closed doors. Bella seemed to know where she was going; when we reached the fourth door she pushed it open.

  We entered a huge room bathed in a soft orange glow from lamps in two of the corners. An ornate, queen-size bed took centre stage.

  ‘I reserved it,’ Bella pouted. ‘Do you mind?’

  Did I mind? Who was she kidding?

  ‘I didn’t think you would,’ she said, tugging the top strap of her dress and letting it fall to her waist.

  She wasn’t wearing a bra. Her pert breasts stood proud, flawless. Her nipples jutted, waiting for my lips. I took a pace towards her. She stopped me with an upraised hand.

  ‘Your turn.’

  I fumbled in my haste to strip. And as soon as I was naked I stood there, waiting.

  She looked me up and down. I didn’t mind the way her eyes hovered on my rounded tits, a couple of sizes bigger than hers. I was proud of them. Nor when they lowered to my trimmed midnight bush. I’d tried shaving there once. It was fine until the hairs started to grow.

  ‘Now, over here.’

  I frowned. Something had happened to her. Her voice was still husky, but it had become firmer somehow. Suddenly I was being ordered about, yet the thought of rubbing my naked body against that pale, flawless skin of hers made me do as she asked.

  Bella led me past the end of the bed to a green leather armchair. As soon as we reached it she waved me to a stop then headed round to the front. I stood behind it, my hands resting on top of its low back, wondering.

  She bent down to the carpet as if she was about to lift something. ‘Reach over and give me a hand, will you?’

  ‘Sure.’ I bent forwards over the chair, extended my hands – and she snapped a cuff onto my wrist.

  ‘What the hell...’

  A second one followed. I yanked at them, but to no avail. They must have been firmly fixed to the base.

  ‘Now then,’ said Bella, moving her face close to mine. ‘You’ve been very naughty, haven’t you?’ She kissed me on the lips. I squirmed. ‘You should have told me before now why you were here.’

  ‘You mean..?’ I shook my head. ‘How long have you known?’

  ‘I’m not as stupid as my husband thinks,’ she said, straightening up. ‘I knew it wouldn’t be long before he had me shadowed, and now here you are. And like I said, you’ve been very naughty not telling me.’

  She slowly stripped off the rest of her clothes, well aware of the effect it was having. Unlike me she did shave, I could make out the vertical, rose-coloured lips between her legs. She noticed me looking, licked her hand, and, pushing her hips forwards, rubbed it smoothly down her belly and over that delicious looking hole.

  I reached out, cursing when the cuffs limited my movement.

  ‘Not until you’ve learnt your lesson,’ she said, padding across to a wardrobe and pulling open the door to reveal a huge collection of implements on a rack inside.

  Bella laughed at the expression on my face. She pulled out a flogger and strolled casually to a position behind me, running the tips down my back on the way past. With nothing on and my bum in the air I’d never felt so vulnerable. I couldn’t see her, but felt the warmth of her hand as she gently smoothed the cheeks of my arse.

  ‘No hint of a scar or welt,’ she said, leaning half across me to whisper in my ear.

  I shuddered at the touch of her silky flat stomach and one soft breast against my back.

  ‘You’ve never tried this before, have you?’

  ‘No,’ I said. ‘I’d much rather we were in bed.’

  The velvety skin peeled away from me. ‘You’ll just have to wait, won’t you?’

  I knew what was coming and clenched my buttocks.

  ‘Ow,’ I yelped, as the ends of the flogger slapped the tender skin on my thighs. ‘Ow,’ I screeched as it smacked the fleshiest part of my backside.

  She repeated the exercise. My cries seemed to urge her on, so I bit on my lower lip in the hope she would stop. But she didn’t, and as the strokes built in intensity a strange, exquisite passion gathered inside me. I’d never experienced such a sensation, and, much as I hated to admit it, it felt good.

  Suddenly Bella stopped, although the pleasurable stinging feeling didn’t. I waited, breath held; her feet pushed against mine telling me to spread my legs. I did. A hand moved from my lower back to the crack of my bum, pausing for a moment while a finger pressed firmly against my rosebud. I jerked forwards, the green leather felt soft against my pelvis.

  ‘Keep still,’ she commanded. I froze as the hand moved on, briefly caressing my labia before two fingers plunged violently into my hole, making me shudder and cry out. I squirmed and wriggled; they pushed in and out, harder, faster; I started to sweat, felt the dam about to burst – then she stopped, leaving me writhing, gasping, aching for release.

  Bella appeared in front of me. ‘Hello juicy Lucy,’ she breathed, holding out her hand to my mouth.

  I could smell my juices, taste the salty liquid when I sucked her fingers.

  ‘Shall we try something different?’

  She didn’t wait for a reply, but crossed to the wardrobe, hair flicking against blush-pink shoulders, slim hips swaying. ‘Here we go.’

  Bella turned back holding a crop. I shuddered.

  Behind me, she rubbed it against my nether cheeks then tapped my thigh. It didn’t feel sore, I’d been warmed up well. Yet still the first real blow took me by surprise. ‘Fuck,’ I shrieked.

  ‘Now, now,’ she tutted, and landed another on my arse.

  ‘Fuuuck,’ I squealed, and as she carried on another half dozen times the floodgates opened, sending warm liquid coursing down the inside of my thighs.

  The whipping ceased, her delicate hands smoothed my burning bum. Her lips followed, kissing me better, then they feathered slowly down while she separated the cheeks of my arse with her hands saying, ‘Mind if I have a starter?’

  This time I needed no encouragement to spread my legs wide.

  ‘Well, well,’ she murmured, the tip of her tongue probing inside my sopping vagina. ‘Who’s ripe for plucking?’

  Then she was in front of me, releasing the cuffs, easing me upright, and leading me to the cool, cool sheets of the queen-size bed.

  I laid on my back, my senses reeling as she kissed my lips, licked each rock-hard nipple in turn, let her tongue zigzag slowly down and over my bush to where my erect clitoris waited in anticipation.

  She didn’t disappoint. I raised my bum from the bed to give her better access. She took advantage, sucking, nibbling, teasing, and then, using her thumbs, spread wide the lips of my soaking pussy and licked and lapped inside until a breathtaking, all-consuming orgasm like I’d never experienced swept through me from top to toe.

  After a short break her lips came to mine. I returned her kiss.

  ‘My turn,’ she breathed.

  ‘Absolutely,’ I sighed, knowing exactly what I would say to my client on Friday.

  ‘I’m pleased to tell you that your wife is not seeing another man,’ I’d tell him. ‘She is just ha
ving girly nights out.’

  He couldn’t argue with that, I thought, as I rolled her onto her back and pressed my own hot, damp skin along the length of her smooth, pulsating body.

  After all, it was the naked truth.

  Also available from Xcite Books

  Confessions Volume 1

  Girl Fun 1

  Mistress of Torment

  Slave to the Machine

  Six of the Best Spanking Stories

  Lesbian Love

  Also Available