Naughty Spanking One

by Miranda Forbes

  Nadine is about to say something, to spit something vile and nasty in retaliation, then remembers Paul. She bites her lip. For once she keeps silent. Alistair notes her restraint, smiles. “Good girl,” he states, ruffling Nadine’s hair affectionately. Nadine is appalled how elated her husband’s praise makes her feel. She is dismayed how proud she feels having stood firm while calmly accepting his callous manhandling. Only moments before, he had been sadistically abusing her, now, for whatever reason, she adores him for it. What is wrong with her? Why isn’t she struggling? Why isn’t she pleading? Why isn’t she running? Most of all, why is she so excited?

  “Paul has a big prick?”

  “I wouldn’t know!”

  “But you’ve thought about it haven’t you? Perhaps sneaked a look?”

  “No!”

  “Were you meeting him tonight?” He takes both Nadine’s breasts in his hands, starts to stroke, squeeze and pinch her rather roughly, coaxing her to accept his punishment, teasing her to push herself forward into his hands. He runs one hand along her flat stomach, around to her bottom, giving the cheeks a couple of gentle slaps before sliding his hand between her legs. She is wet. The feel of his big rough hand against her naked flesh excites her further. “Nice?” he whispers.

  Nadine can do nothing but nod while Alistair continues to caress her, bringing his hand back to her breasts occasionally, squeezing them in his vice-like grip. Nadine bites her lip, fighting her humiliation as she stands submissively, allows Alistair’s hands to roam freely. She stares into his grey eyes, can clearly see his excitement. Nadine is equally as excited, knows Alistair can tell also.

  “Let’s move on,” Alistair states, breaking their locked gaze. “When did you last fuck Paul?”

  “I haven’t.”

  “But you intended to. Tonight maybe?”

  “No, I …”

  “I know when you’re lying, Nadine!” He taps Nadine’s breasts with the ruler. “Better you admit it now.”

  “He’s just a friend.”

  “Anne’s friend?”

  “Yes. No.”

  “So you did lie?”

  “I thought you might not understand.”

  “Oh, I understand – slut!”

  “Alistair, he’s just –”

  “Right, chest out, shoulders back.” He is in bossy teacher mode again. Nadine adjusts her position, her breasts bouncing obligingly as she thrusts them forwards, bracing herself for the expected onslaught. Alistair admires her for a moment, letting her strain to hold position. It is difficult for Nadine to comprehend why she is striving to please him so, when he obviously intends to make everything difficult for her. What possible motivation can she have for helping him? None, except the fire gradually building between her legs. The more she degrades herself, the hotter she seems to burn. She is already past questioning her actions. She just needs to stoke the fire!

  “No moving, keep still,” Alistair instructs as he readies the ruler in front of her. “Understand slut?”

  Nadine nods.

  “Good Girl.” There it is again. That sense of pride.

  Nadine finds her enforced submission surprisingly exciting. Alistair gives her a ferocious swipe with the ruler across the top of one breast. She groans loudly, unable not to yell out but she remains motionless, as instructed.

  “So you were just flirting?”

  “Yes.”

  He lands a blow to her other breast, this time catching her nipple. Nadine bites her lip hard, trying not to make a sound.

  “Fantasising, get yourself excited?”

  “Yes.”

  Another blow. She badly wants to maintain what little dignity she can muster. Yet, Nadine knows she will soon break if Alistair continues as he has started. Thankfully, she is to get some respite. He returns the ruler to the drawer. “Tell me about the other men you flirt with.” Alistair turns to face her. Nadine is surprised to see he has an obvious erection.

  “Alistair, there isn’t … I don’t …”

  “Liar! Well, if you insist …”

  “Please, not the ruler again.”

  Alistair smiles. “Oh, I agree.”

  He leads Nadine by the arm to a large wooden structure on the far side of the room. Now she is closer, Nadine can see it more clearly. It reminds her of the vaulting horses used in gymnastic classes. She stares at Alistair wide-eyed. Again he smiles, “My little hobby.” Pressing between her shoulders he silently persuades Nadine to bend over the wooden contraption. She yields willingly. The beam is set at a slight incline, so once bent her head sits lower than her bottom. She feels the blood quickly rushing to her head. Alistair taps at her heels with his foot, indicating she should place her feet next to the thick legs of the horse. She obeys, again willingly, spreading her legs wide until she feels her ankles touch the coarse wood. Alistair clamps her ankles in place. Nadine feels the cold metal of the shackles against her skin, doesn’t need to move to test their effectiveness – she isn’t going anywhere until released.

  Once securely fastened, Nadine grows decidedly apprehensive. Spanking is one thing, but Alistair’s peculiar set-up indicates he has something altogether different in mind. She fights the urge to struggle, knowing it is already too late. Despite her anxiety, Nadine’s helplessness continues to excite her. As she gradually comes to terms with her confinement, Alistair passes a strap around her chest, pinions her to the beam, pulling so tight she can hardly draw breath. He pulls her arms behind her back, ties them at the wrists. She can do nothing now but wait. The power he holds over her – power to do as he pleases arouses her beyond reason. For once Alistair has complete power over her. Will he be benevolent? Will he be harsh – abuse her? From what she knows of her husband, she assumes the former. Not surprisingly then, she feels no panic, only a strange sense of inevitability. Behind, she can hear strange noises as Alistair fumbles in the cupboard. She cranes her neck in an attempt to see what he is doing. It is no use; all she can see is the green-painted walls. Not her choice of colour at all. Suddenly Alistair moves to the front and Nadine hears herself scream involuntarily. Alistair holds a birch rod in his hand.

  “Exquisite,” he exclaims in delight, “you actually sound frightened.”

  “Alistair, please. You can’t …”

  “Oh, but I can Nadine, I can.” She watches as he flexes the rod between both hands before swishing it through the air dangerously close to her exposed bottom, feels the cold rush of air as the rod passes her flushed skin. Alistair is testing his arm. Alarmingly, he suddenly looks strong, muscular, much as she likes her men. Nadine grows so nervous her saliva starts to overwhelm her capacity to swallow. Alistair notices, runs his finger across Nadine’s lips, wiping the excess away thoughtfully. “Exciting, isn’t it?”

  “Alistair, have mercy!”

  “Let’s face facts darling, it’s no more than you deserve.”

  “Please …”

  “Confess your sins, Nadine, and I’ll go easy on you.”

  “I’ve done nothing!”

  “Nothing? You haven’t been cavorting around town without underwear? Well?”

  “Not cavorting …”

  “Well, what do you call it?”

  The reality of her situation hits Nadine like a falling brick. Alistair clearly intends to beat her for her way she has treated him. She senses none of the playfulness or restraint he expressed earlier. The condescending teacher’s tone is gone. Alistair’s voice is now deep and sinister, for the first time Nadine feels a tinge of genuine fear. Alistair has her completely exposed and at his mercy. Excited or not, how can she have been stupid enough to get herself into this situation?

  “I want you to count out the strokes and thank me after each one. Do you understand?”

  “Please don’t do this,” Nadine pleads from beneath her mask of hair, but all she can hear is muffled gobbledegook, her heart is beating so loudly. Alistair hears nothing, or chooses not to. Instead of mercy, she feels the vicious bite of Alistair’s rod across he
r backside. She cries out in pain, in anguish.

  “I asked if you understood.”

  “Yes!” Nadine hollers angrily, then nods as vigorously as her restrained condition allows. The first stroke was more painful even than she had imagined.

  “Well?”

  “One. Thank you Alistair.”

  “My pleasure, Nadine,” he replies, sounding as polite, as casual as if she had just thanked him for opening a door. “Though a little louder please.” He brings the cane down hard across her buttocks. “Ow!”

  “Tut, tut,” Alistair hisses sarcastically, “we’ll never get to ten at this rate.”

  “Ten?”

  “One for each night you left me here, alone.”

  Again, Alistair brings the cane down hard across Nadine’s exposed flesh. This time she manages not to cry out. “One! Thank you, Alistair,” she states bitterly, unable to keep the loathing from her voice.

  “I don’t care for your tone,” he replies, “Again!”

  Nadine groans inwardly. There is only one way out of her predicament and she doesn’t fancy the prospect one iota. She braces herself for the next strike. When it comes, she calls out as Alistair instructed, but it takes all her will to keep the hatred from her voice. “One! Thank you Alistair,” she says flatly.

  “Much better.”

  After seven strokes, Nadine’s buttocks are on fire; the searing heat burns into her young flesh, scorches its way deep within. Tears stream from her eyes. There is no way she will endure another six strokes. There is no way anyone can endure such concentrated pain.

  “Five! Thank you, Alistair.” She prays he will stop, willing him with all her might to forgive her. Please stop! Please stop and I’ll do anything. Anything! Miraculously, Alistair does stop. Nadine hears the rustling of clothes, and then feels his hardness pressing against her sore flesh as he slowly runs the tip of his erect prick over her buttocks, between her bottom cheeks. She has thought about anal sex many times, but not now, not like this! She’d rather feel the pain of the rod. Then, as suddenly as it appeared his cock is gone and, despite her panic, Nadine feels an inexplicable sense of disappointment. She has little time to reflect on this conundrum as the next blow lands across the stinging globes of her buttocks. In her confusion, she almost forgets to call out the stroke. “Five! Thank you Alistair,” she shouts hurriedly, before realising her mistake. “Six!” she corrects quickly. Her stomach turns in dread. She should have kept quiet. What if Alistair makes her start over?

  “Five.” Alistair admonishes quietly.

  “Yes, five! Thank you, Alistair, thank you,” Nadine replies, genuinely thankful, though she is disgusted with herself for kow-towing to the sadistic bastard.

  “Six! Thank you, Alistair.” Nadine’s bottom is so hot, she is sure that if she looks back she will see flames. It is a fire that not only scorches her outer flesh but also burns deep into her sex. Despite the pain, she knows she is soaking between her legs. Nadine feels humiliated, used, is completely at his mercy, yet, as disgusted as she feels, the idea of being at Alistair’s mercy still excites her! The paradox is plain to see, but Nadine is slow to comprehend. He hurts her and she likes it. Not likes, exactly, but still it arouses her. This isn’t happening. She must be dreaming. The pain from the next stroke proves otherwise.

  “Seven! Thank you, Alistair.” What will he do to her next? Force his penis into her bottom?

  “Eight! Thank you, Alistair.” Yes, he will force his penis into her tight virginal bottom. The idea both appals and fuels her excitement. Her pussy is a raging inferno, hotter than her punished flesh can ever be. She pushes her bottom out to meet the next stroke, an effort to stoke the fire, not caring about the pain any longer.

  “Nine! Thank you, Alistair.” She badly needs to feel someone or something inside her – anything to quench the unbearable heat between her legs. Then, as suddenly as it had started, it is over. “Ten! Thank you Alistair.” Yes, thank you Alistair.

  There follows a long pause during which Nadine can do nothing but wiggle her buttocks – a vain attempt to disperse some of the heat. After such intense activity, the lull becomes an exquisite torture in itself, stoking her arousal to new heights. She feels tempted to cry out, to goad Alistair into getting on with whatever abuse he plans next. Anything would be better than her slow smouldering torment. She doesn’t – though the thought of rebellion and reprisal sends a bolt of electricity to her pussy. Nadine is so aroused now, just thinking about further punishment draws her closer to climax.

  “Well, slut, are you sorry?”

  “Yes, Alistair.”

  “So you should be.” Suddenly, she feels cold lotion on her scorched bottom. Is Alistair deliberately tormenting her? He spreads a generous quantity over each buttock, works the liquid well into the flesh. Nadine finds the drawing of heat nearly as painful as the actual beating, the application of the balm obviously important to Alistair as he invests considerable effort rubbing the lotion into her skin. Soon it becomes clear why as his fingertips touch, and then explore, her rear opening. Alistair spreads Nadine’s rosy cheeks wide, runs his thick stubby fingers lightly over the crack of her bottom, concentrating on the wrinkled, tightly closed opening. Then, without further warning he slips a finger inside.

  Nadine jumps in surprise, though the sensation isn’t unpleasant. After all, she occasionally does the same while masturbating, although Alistair’s digit feels decidedly bigger. She closes her eyes, enjoys his gently probing finger, trying to suppress her rising feeling of guilt, her feeling of shame as he explores deeper. After some minutes, Alistair stops, withdraws his finger. Nadine, lost to the illicit pleasure, hears herself groan with disappointment.

  Alistair releases the strap around her bound wrists. “Reach back and open yourself for me,” he commands, the excitement in his voice now almost at fever pitch. Nadine’s mind is in turmoil. She – they – have wanted this for some time, but now it’s as if he’s forcing her, as if the choice is his alone. The sadistic bastard clearly intends to do it his way – she can feel his hardness bobbing against the heated flesh of her bottom. Does he actually think she will assist him? She feels his prick nudge against her opening and she lets out a low guttural moan, realises she is equally aroused, isn’t sure she wants him to stop. The burning fire between her legs needs quenching – and quickly. Incredulous at her own submission, she reaches back, holds her buttocks open.

  Once spread wide, Alistair continues to ream her rear hole. His other hand grasps his member, strokes it as he edges the throbbing hardness ever closer to Nadine’s virgin orifice. Nadine can feel the bulbous end nudge between her cheeks and, to Alistair’s obvious delight, she moans aloud. For a long moment, nothing changes. She thinks he has relented, perhaps only intends to ejaculate over the sore and reddened globes of her bottom. Despite her earlier apprehension, she feels disappointment at his lack of forcefulness. He is master now, why doesn’t he take her? She pushes her bottom backwards against the head of his cock, letting him know she wants him. All of him.

  “You’re a slut, Nadine.”

  “Yes, Alistair, I’m a slut.”

  Alistair presses into her. She feels herself slowly open, her rear hole expanding until the head of his cock is snug inside. Her muscles close tightly around the shaft. Alistair’s groans are louder than hers, yet he hesitates before delving deeper. Nadine is thankful for that small mercy. She pants heavily while she gets used to the unfamiliar fullness. Then, slowly but with deliberation, Alistair edges inside her, a little at first, then pulls back before pressing again, equally slowly. He groans again, obviously enjoying the tightness of Nadine’s unexplored depths. As Alistair slowly gains momentum Nadine revels in the novelty of the new sensation. Soon, she feels comfortable enough to want more than Alistair gives.

  She wishes he’d get a move on. Fuck her like she deserves to be fucked. Use her like the slut she is. Again, she pushes herself backwards, this time with enough force to cause his testicles to bang against her bottom
, any soreness now forgotten. At the next stroke, Alistair thrusts harder into her. She matches his forcefulness eagerly. “Yes, Alistair, yes.” Alistair registers Nadine’s signal. He quickly increases speed, ramming into his helpless wife with great abandon. Within seconds, they are both moaning, shouting abuse at each other and, with her hands now free, Nadine cannot resist reaching between her legs to seek her clitoris. She rubs frantically at the nubbin, as hard as marble beneath her fingers. She is dangerously close to orgasm now.

  “Fuck me! Fuck my arse,” Nadine shouts repeatedly, as she climbs ever closer to the peak of pleasure. She desperately wants to reach that holy summit, rubs her clitoris furiously, knowing if she continues she will be sore for days. Yet she doesn’t care. What difference does it make now? Reaching behind with her free hand, she slaps Alistair’s thigh in encouragement, goading him to greater effort as they both race towards the finishing post. She is almost there, almost there … and as she feels her orgasm overwhelm her, she contracts around his pounding shaft. It is too much for Alistair. Gasping, sweating profusely in an effort to keep pace with his young wife, he shoots his heated load deep inside her – just as her orgasm starts to ebb. Overtaken by this new sensation, Nadine is instantly thrown over another, higher peak. Her renewed shouts join Alistair’s in a crescendo of animal howling as they both fall crashing into oblivion.

  “I’m so sorry,” Nadine whispers as Alistair releases her, holds her in his arms. “I promise I won’t flirt again.”

  “Why not, my dear?”