The Bottom Line

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The Bottom Line Page 17

by Shelley Munro


  A first spanking should be free of distractions and take place in a relaxing setting. My upcoming weekend will fulfill these requirements with lots of kisses and tender touches, careful stroking to start. I hope so anyway. I hear practice makes perfect because like anything, a good spanking is learned—much like lovemaking, a couple needs to experiment with positions, scenarios and spanking implements.

  For a first spanking, the position should be one that’s comfortable for both parties such as draping over knees or a chair.

  Should a spanking hurt? I bet that’s what most of you want to know. Yes, it will hurt, although that’s not the primary aim. Erotic stimulation is the purpose of a spanking—lots of stroking, touching and rubbing. Nakedness isn’t necessary. It’s best to remove clothes or panties gradually, because the sensations vary from clothed to bare skin. The smacks should dance over the buttocks. The flesh should sting, the sensations building to a crescendo. A pretty blush is the aim rather than bruises.

  The person doing the spanking needs to look for subtle signals such as raising hips to meet the blows, a sign the experience is enjoyable. The person receiving the spanking needs to say what they like and don’t like during the experience. Around a dozen strokes are sufficient for a first spanking and definitely end the session with hugs and lovemaking.

  Afterwards, it might help to discuss the spanking, what worked and what didn’t.

  So, there you have it—suggestions for a successful spanking. All I need to do is put the theory into practice.

  How was your first spanking? Were you disappointed? Did you enjoy the experience?

  The days passed slowly, and Friday found Maggie fidgety and unable to settle to anything. Fridays really did suck.

  “What is wrong with you?” Susan asked. “I asked you to pass the sugar, please.”

  A blush suffused her face. Her entire body hummed with arousal from just thinking about the coming night with Connor. “Sorry.”

  “Have a hot date tonight?” Connor asked with a grin.

  “You’re not meeting him again,” Susan said in clear exasperation. “You should stay at home, or better yet, come out to a movie with me.”

  “Who are you seeing?” Connor asked.

  If she’d sat closer, she would have aimed a kick in his direction. Her pointy shoes would do a bit of damage if she aimed well enough. “None of your business.”

  Christina’s brow furrowed in clear disapproval. “But Maggie—”

  “Don’t say it,” Maggie said tartly. “I don’t want to argue with you. Just remember that life comes in shades of gray. Let’s change the subject. Do you think the All Blacks will beat the French tomorrow?” To her relief, Connor led the conversation, adroitly steering in the direction she’d sent it. The man would be the death of her. Who was she seeing tonight? Huh!

  Maggie paid the cabbie and smoothed her coat as the driver pulled out of the hotel forecourt. Nerves danced in the pit of her stomach, cinching it tight and making the thought of food impossible. She intended to tell Connor exactly what she needed tonight, without wimping out or allowing fear to dictate her actions. They were both adults. It was time she acted like one.

  Her heels clicked on the marble tiles as she strode past a dramatic arrangement of orange bird of paradise flowers and green foliage to the reception desk. Heat curled between her legs, the firm boning of the corset hugging her breasts and sending messages through her sensitized body.

  They said the brain was the biggest and most powerful sexual organ. That was certainly true of her today. She’d thought about sex and Connor so much for the last few days and today in particular, it wouldn’t take much for her to explode.

  She waited in the short line and stepped up to the reception desk when it was her turn. “Hi, Connor Grey said he’d leave a room key here for me to collect.”

  “Ms. Drummond?” the young man asked.

  Maggie refused to let her embarrassment show. Sex outside of marriage wasn’t illegal. “That’s right.”

  He smiled. “Room 832. Take the elevators to the eighth floor and follow the signs. Enjoy your stay.”

  Maybe she’d overreacted. There was nothing in his expression to suggest he was judging her morals. No, her guilty conscience stemmed from the fact she’d lied to her girlfriends and let them think she was involved with a married man. She hadn’t lied, but she hadn’t exactly told the truth either. Shades of gray. And if they discovered she and Connor were doing the wild thing…

  Maggie forced the fear away and smiled at the receptionist, accepting the keycard. Even though she knew she shouldn’t stride boldly across the foyer to catch the elevator to Connor’s room, her legs kept moving. Excitement increased inside, layer upon layer until her stomach churned with both fear and exhilaration. Her fingers clenched around the handle of her leather overnight bag while the hem of her long, beige coat whispered against her stocking clad legs.

  Her heart thumped in time with the beat of the canned music floating through the lobby. The elevator dinged its arrival, and she stepped inside. Two men boarded the car with her, and the audacious smiles told her she’d done a good job with her hair and make-up. Feeling confident, she returned their smiles, her alter-ego in sharp, pointy boots coming to the fore.

  “Would you like to go out for a drink tonight?” one asked.

  “Thanks, but I’m meeting my husband.” Amazed shock froze her smile in place. Those words had come out so naturally. She hadn’t realized her thoughts had headed in that direction. Surely she didn’t love him? Maggie drew a sharp breath. She did.

  She loved Connor.

  Shaken by the realization, it took her a few seconds to notice the elevator had stopped on her floor. On trembling legs, she exited, checked the directional signs and turned to the right.

  Connor had made it clear permanent wasn’t for him. She nibbled her bottom lip. A sharp nip should have jolted her back to reality but now that she’d acknowledged her love, her mind wouldn’t let go of the thought. Heck, if she were honest, she’d been halfway in love with him before they started their friends with benefits deal.

  Maggie halted in front of room 832. She fidgeted, shifting her weight from foot to foot. Maybe she should leave and ignore Connor’s note. Even as the thought formed, she trashed it. Her right hand fisted until the leather strap of her overnight bag cut into her palm.

  Not gonna happen.

  The truth would be good. She could tell Connor she’d fallen for him and didn’t like the terms of their agreement anymore. Maybe he’d change them for her? A half laugh, half sob emerged. She knew Connor pretty well. As much as she liked him, she knew when a woman showed possessiveness or wanted more, he cut her loose.

  A film of tears shrouded her vision, and she blinked rapidly to dispel them. The way she saw it, she had two options. She could walk away and pine for impossibilities or she could pull off the best acting of her life.

  Aware of her prevarication, she slid her card key into the lock, waited for the small green light to blink and opened the door.

  Showtime.

  “You’re late.” Connor turned away from the window and, drink in hand, stalked to the bed. He set down his drink, the glass making a faint clink when it hit the wooden bedside cabinet. “Come here.”

  Maggie blinked at the stern note in his voice. “I’m sorry.” To her dismay, her voice broke slightly.

  “No excuses.” Connor sat on the end of the bed. “Come here.”

  Definitely stern. His dark expression sent a haze of emotions and desires swimming through her, and she struggled with the combination of apprehension and arousal. Slowly, she stepped toward him, her head swirling with doubts.

  When she stopped in front of him, he stared at her. For an instant, she thought his face softened, then he spoke coldly. “You have been a very naughty girl.”

  One moment she stood in front of him, and the next, she lay over his lap, facing the oatmeal-colored carpet. She let out a surprised shriek so startled by this turn of
events, words failed her.

  “Do you know what I do with naughty girls, Maggie?”

  “N-no.”

  “I spank them,” he said, his tone no longer dark or quite as stern but conversational. Matter-of-fact. “I spank their bottoms to give them something to consider the next time they think about misbehaving.”

  “Oh, God,” Maggie said.

  “He won’t help you.” Connor stroked her bottom, the heat of his hand radiating right through her coat, corset and panties.

  Her stomach muscles tensed, and a jolt of pleasure arced right to her pussy. She held herself tense with excitement while curiosity filled her. What would he do next?

  “Nothing to say for yourself?”

  “No, except I’m sorry. I’ll try not to let it happen again.” Liar. If this was an indication of what happened when she was a few minutes late, she intended to misbehave a lot more.

  “You’ll try? Oh, babe. You need to do better than that. Hmm, let me see. Six minutes late. One smack for each minute. Does that sound fair?” He caressed her bottom in a confident manner, and she had no doubt he meant it. She tightened her buttocks and, unable to help herself, lifted into his caress, loving the shimmer of heat that came with each tormenting stroke. Her vagina gave a hungry twitch, clenching on emptiness and she wet her lips. A whimper slipped free.

  “Maggie?” An order to respond. “Have you been a naughty girl?”

  “Yes,” she whispered.

  “Yes, what?”

  “Yes, I’ve been a naughty girl.”

  “That’s right.” His hand slipped beneath the hem of her coat. He stroked his fingers along the crease where her buttock met one thigh. A shiver slipped through her, and when his fingers stilled, she knew he’d felt her reaction. He skimmed his fingers down the back of one thigh, pausing when he encountered silky stocking. “Babe, you’ve been very naughty coming across town, wearing nothing but sexy underwear beneath your coat.”

  “But you told me to wear the corset.”

  He chuckled. “Good try, babe. You’re right. I did tell you to wear the corset. I presumed you’d wear other clothes as well.”

  “I wore my coat,” she shot back, emboldened by his playfulness.

  Connor removed his hand, and she immediately felt the lack of contact. His thighs flexed beneath her body, and she felt him tense.

  Whack!

  A startled cry escaped Maggie. The smack hurt, even through the layers of material. Rapidly, she catalogued the sensations. Not too bad. Each of her nerve endings fired to life and astonishment gave way to real excitement. Decadent heat.

  “That’s for wearing your underwear and not much else to come to meet me,” Connor said.

  The second blow took her equally by surprise, the smack coming from a different angle. Seconds later, Connor lifted her coat, baring the bottom half of her body to him. Her breath caught and she waited, tensing slightly.

  His soft touch surprised her yet again.

  “I like your ass, Maggie,” he whispered. “I like your soft curves and the rounded shape. It’s very sexy.”

  “Um, thank you.” It was the first time anyone had complimented her butt. Off-balance, she wasn’t sure what he would do next.

  Smack!

  Her eyes widened at the increased sensation. With only the thin panties between his hand and her flesh, the smack stung more than the first two. Fiery heat ran to the point of contact before seeping down to her pussy. She felt the moisture growing between her legs and swallowed.

  Another two smacks in quick succession made her groan. Aimed at slightly different places on her butt, the heat danced through her, swirling and bringing a rush of conflicting emotions. Something like this shouldn’t feel so good, yet it did. Her breasts pulled to hard peaks beneath the boning of the corset, the nerve endings in her buttocks firing messages to all extremities of her body. She squirmed on his lap and found herself lifting her hips, silently seeking another blow.

  It didn’t take long to arrive, the placement perfect, across both buttocks but low. Her pussy clenched in yearning, and she bit on her bottom lip to stem the groan of matching hunger.

  “Good girl,” Connor said in a thick voice. “You took your punishment well.” His hand lingered on her bottom for an instant before he rose and lifted her to her feet in one smooth motion. He scrutinized her closely before he kissed her, a mere caress of lips, as tender and light as that of a child’s. But the heat in his eyes when he unfastened the belt at her waist and slid the coat down her arms was pure male adult. Her coat dropped to the floor forgotten as they stared at each other.

  The stroke of his fingers across her jaw was gentle, barely there. “You look beautiful, babe. My imagination didn’t do you justice. Turn around so I can see you.”

  Bemused, she turned at his bidding, the faint tremor in her legs a reminder of the emotions pulsing in her body, the residual sting and heat.

  Connor had spanked her.

  How had he known that she wanted a spanking?

  He drew her against his body and she felt the hard ridge of his erection pulsing against her buttocks. She sighed and pushed back against him, savoring the tender moment with his arms wrapped around her waist. Her eyes fluttered closed and her other senses kicked in working overtime to compensate for her blindness.

  Connor wore aftershave, not his usual citrus scented one, but something spicier reminding her of the Far East with its hint of sandalwood. His hands rose to cup her breasts, the warmth of his fingers permeating the fabric.

  “That feels good,” she said without opening her eyes.

  “What feels good? Tell me.”

  “Your hands on me.” She responded to his order without hesitation. “The way you stroke my breasts. My nipples feel tender yet needy. I’d like it even more if you used a bit more pressure.” Color filled her cheeks—she knew because of the heat glowing in her face—but she didn’t regret her suggestion when Connor tugged on one nipple.

  “Like this? Does that feel good?”

  “Oh, yes. I like that.” What she really wanted was for him to drag off the corset and panties and pound into her with his hard cock, but she didn’t think she’d managed to verbalize her wish. Maybe slow was better. They should let the urgency build between them. Instinct told Maggie if they took their time, the lovemaking would be spectacular.

  He stroked and squeezed, tugging on her sensitive nipples until sensations raced through her body. But it wasn’t enough with the stiff boning of the corset between his fingers and her flesh.

  One of his hands splayed across her ribs, feeling like a brand. His. She was all his. Maggie wished she had the guts to admit it to him, to tell him he fit every one of her dreams and fantasies. The ache in her pussy intensified, hot, sensual flames licking all the way from the juncture of her thighs up to her breasts.

  “As much as I love this corset on you, babe, I want to touch skin. And because you’re sorry about being late, I want to lick away the redness on your beautiful bottom.”

  Maggie smiled. She knew her ass would hurt later and didn’t care.

  At his direction, she stood still while he unfastened the laces tying the corset in the front. It had taken her ages to tie them but he made short work of the task. With competent hands, he peeled the material from her body, helped her remove her shoes and panties.

  “Leave the stockings,” he said when she went to roll them down her legs. “They’re very sexy.”

  “Aren’t you feeling overdressed?” she asked when the desire in his eyes started to make her feel vulnerable. Self-conscious.

  “Are you feeling underdressed?” he countered.

  “Just a tad.”

  “I can fix that.” He peeled off his clothes and seconds later stood naked in front of her. He prowled toward her and, laughing, she backed away until the bed halted her retreat. When Connor kept coming, she toppled backward and he caged her in place on the bed. “Turn over.”

  When she hesitated, he repeated the order.


  “Turn over for me, babe.”

  Their gazes met and held. His dark brows rose and his smile turned quizzical. She let her breath ease out and turned over to lie with her head resting on her arms. The silence lengthened, and she glanced over her shoulder to look at him. He was staring at her butt.

  “You have a sexy ass, babe.” He smoothed his hand over one cheek, the coolness of his palm a startling contrast to the heated blush of her ass. She shuddered at his touch. “Up on your hands and knees. Spread your legs as wide as you can. I want to see your pussy bloom, all the private places you normally hide. Do I need to use a condom tonight? You’ve seen my test results. I haven’t been with anyone except you.”

  “No more condoms.” The frank language brought a flash of arousal, and his husky voice held truth. She trusted him implicitly when it came to her health. “I want that too. I want you.” If he could speak candidly, so could she.

  His hand stroked across her cheek before lifting and returning in a quick smack.

  “Ooh.” Maggie swallowed and pushed up to her hands and knees.

  The mattress depressed when he moved behind her. He slipped a hand between her legs and stroked her swollen flesh. With hot, easy glides he fingered her clit, sending jolts of pleasure skittering through her body. His touch felt so good, and she wanted more. She wanted to feel the stretch when he entered her body, hear his grunts when he thrust into her body.

  As if he read her mind, he moved behind her, and she felt the glide of his cock over her flesh. He pushed inside, curving his body over hers and treating her like a treasure. He brushed a kiss over her shoulder blade and pushed her hair aside to kiss her neck. His muscles flexed as he pumped into her, increasing the friction with rapid strokes. Maggie pushed back, savoring each invading thrust.

  “Faster, Connor. Please,” she begged.

 

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