by Cara Bristol
"I think it's ill-advised. I support the concept of discipline. From my own childhood, I know kids need boundaries to feel secure and loved. But I don't believe spanking would have the intended positive effect. I suppose swatting a toddler on his diapered behind probably won't hurt him, but why hit at all when there are other alternatives?"
Dan tilted his head to the side. “So what about adults spanking adults?"
"What about it?” Emma squirmed and pressed her thighs together. Just talking about spanking caught her in a strange emotional tug-of-war, jerked her between discomfort and excitement. She wanted to both slam a lid on the discussion and rip it wide open. Oh, the stories she could tell! The urge rose again to confide in him about the Rod and Cane Society and her friend Melania, who was spanked regularly by her husband and who not only consented to it, but relished it.
"Do you approve, disapprove?"
"I don't get it.” She pursed her lips. Even after interviewing dozens of Auxiliary wives, she didn't have a clue why a woman would allow a man to rule their home, let alone permit him to apply a hand to her backside. She had flaws, but she'd dedicated herself to improving them. They didn't give a man the right to order her around, to enforce his will by inflicting physical pain. “Spankings hurt, don't they?” Her imagination flashed a scene of Dan smacking her ass as he fucked her from behind, and her heart went crazy in her chest.
An avid curiosity in spanking didn't mean that she wanted to experience one. If she sometimes thought about being spanked when she masturbated, well... She'd fantasized about having sex with two men too, and Lord knew she didn't want that to happen in real life.
"That's the point."
"That is the point,” she agreed. “Why would someone do something that hurts?” Hurts so good, came a wicked whisper. The insidious, shocking little voice beckoned her to step into the dark side, but she quickly smothered it. Refused to listen.
"A really intense orgasm can feel painful."
"That's different.” She'd approached her Rod and Cane story from a professional, objective base. This discussion had grown too personal. Uncomfortable. “All I know is that the first time a man spanked me would be the last time a man spanked me,” Emma said fiercely.
An unidentifiable emotion flashed across Dan's face. “Some people find it erotic, that it heightens their sexual pleasure."
"That's what they say,” she admitted and found her gaze drawn again to Dan's hands again. Strong, masculine, large. Gentle, but firm. In control, but not controlling. He'd held her hand as they walked from the car, the simple gesture causing her pulse to race. She knew how good it felt to have Dan touch her intimately, squeeze her ass cheeks. But to slap her butt? She shivered. She did not want to be spanked. Absolutely not. Never. No way. Nunca. Negatory.
"So, you don't think a spanking could be enjoyable?” Dan persisted, toying with his fork.
Emma thought of Melania. “Some people do,” she conceded. “But I'm not wired that way.” She shifted in her chair and gave a thankful sigh when Dan abruptly stood up.
"I'll get dessert. I promised you a brownie,” he said.
"Is there anything I can do?” Emma asked as Dan collected the dirty dishes.
"No, I've got it,” he said and disappeared into the house. Moments later, he appeared with two brownies, drizzled with chocolate syrup. “Here you go.” He set one in front of her and took his seat.
Emma forked a small bite into her mouth and closed her eyes in bliss. The rich, dark fudge tasted like heaven on a dessert plate. “Mm. This is sinful,” she said. “Anything this good has to be."
As decadent as the brownie was, it couldn't compare to the deliciousness of the man who'd served it. Pleasurable warmth filled her. She couldn't remember when a date had gone to such lengths to please her.
"I'm glad you're enjoying it,” he said and launched into an amusing anecdote about a client he'd worked with, but his chuckles struck her as forced.
By the time she'd eaten half her brownie, she noticed Dan hadn't touched his. “You're not eating."
"I'm full."
Emma was too, but she couldn't resist the dessert. “The brownie is delicious,” she said. “The entire dinner was. You're an excellent cook."
"Thank you.” He sounded distracted.
"You're welcome.” She studied his face. He looked perfectly normal, relaxing back in his chair. She must have imagined the tone.
"You have chocolate"—Dan reached out with his napkin to wipe her face, then jerked his hand back—"right here.” He touched the corner of his own mouth instead.
"Oh. Thanks.” Emma dabbed her lips. If he'd had chocolate on his mouth, she would have kissed it off, and not because of the chocolate. An unease she couldn't name settled over her.
"Is everything okay?” She nibbled her lip and peered at him. What could she have said wrong? Maybe she shouldn't have mentioned Summer or her unconventional upbringing or the way she wanted to quit a well-paying job for a lower salary at a newspaper. Did she seem unstable? Flighty? And how had they started talking about spanking? She hoped she'd made it clear she wasn't into kink, that she was perfectly normal. She didn't want him to think she was a weirdo. She remembered Melania asking if Dan was into spanking, and she'd said no. But now Emma's certainty slipped a little. She'd figured out Dan was an ass man, and he had asked her a lot of questions about spanking. But he hadn't come out and said what he thought of it. If he sought a woman to spank, why not say so? The dominant men in Rod and Cane made no bones about their practice. They told their women up front what to expect. Dan hadn't done that. Or had he been trying to? Was that the purpose of the whole spanking discussion?
Emma stifled a huffing sigh. She would drive herself crazy going round and round with thoughts like these. She studied Dan's face from underneath her lashes.
"I'm fine.” He answered with a smile, but the corners of his mouth barely turned upward. She recognized a fake grin when she saw one. Anxiety quickened in her stomach. What had she said? Or maybe she hadn't said anything.
Perhaps past hurts and disappointments were clouding her judgment. She'd had too many first dates that ended after a single evening. But she and Dan shared an emotional connection deeper than simple attraction. Didn't they? Yes, of course they did. She scolded herself. Don't sabotage this.
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Chapter Six
Dan wound his car down the mountain, a quiet Emma at his side. He knew his behavior had confused her, and she'd expected more of their date. So had he. And if he only desired a quick fuck, the evening's outcome would have been different. But he liked Emma. She seemed like the kind of woman with whom he could spend the rest of his life, and because of that, he would not see her again.
No man had ever laid a hand to Emma's ass, and in a covetous way, he itched to paddle her all the more. He longed to be the first lover to bring her ass to a full blush, to awaken her to the stinging pleasure of a good spanking and the resulting intimate afterglow. That she'd never been spanked didn't break the deal—that she never wanted to be did.
Silhouetted in the darkness, Emma sat ramrod straight on her perfect bottom, the alignment of her posture accentuating her full breasts. As they approached a streetlight, he stole a glimpse of her face, but she intercepted his glance, and the tentative smile she sent his way delivered a hard kick to his groin and his heart. Who was he kidding? He didn't want to be the first man to spank her—he wanted to be only one. Her ass belonged to him. Emma was his. Or should have been.
Instead he would deposit her unspanked on her doorstep, kiss her good-bye, and walk away. Sayonara, sweetheart.
He shifted in his seat. His hard-on had worsened. Apparently his cock hadn't communicated with his brain to learn the relationship had ended. But his heart had, and it ached more fiercely every mile he drew closer to Emma's house. Only his common sense, which reminded him of past failures, insisted he was doing the right thing.
He handled the car efficiently, smoothly, but
automatically as his warring emotions occupied his attention. Too soon, he arrived at Emma's cute little bungalow.
He switched off the engine. His stomach soured, and he swallowed. It was better to cut his losses now than to get more deeply involved and then break up. “I'll walk you to your door,” he said and exited the vehicle before she could ask any questions and undermine his resolve.
He curved his hand around her waist as they strolled up the sidewalk, and gritted his teeth as he silently cursed his weakness. He couldn't forget how smooth and silky her skin had felt in the shower, and he tightened his grip to draw her closer to his side.
"Nice night,” Emma commented.
Stars winked and glinted over the warm autumn evening. The scent of freshly mowed grass perfumed the air, while a silent stillness added a cloak of intimacy.
"Nice,” he answered. It sucked.
Desperately he grappled for an excuse to see her again as they neared her door and the end of their brief relationship. How could Emma really know if she liked or disliked spanking if she'd never gotten one? Maybe he could get her to read some erotic romances involving spanking. Her disapproval of the practice stemmed from a lack of experience, a dearth of knowledge. Once Emma warmed to the concept, he could smack her bottom lightly. Then—
Then nothing. She'd made it clear where she stood when she said she wasn't “wired” to enjoy spanking. One either did or didn't, and dating another woman who'd only go through the motions just to please him would leave them both unsatisfied.
They reached her front step, illuminated by the porch light, and Emma fished her keys from her purse, unlocked her door, and pushed it open. “Would you like to come in?” From behind her glasses, her eyes glowed with hope.
Fuck, yeah. “No, I'd better not. I have an early-morning meeting.” He settled his hands on her shoulders one last time.
"It was a wonderful evening. Thank you so much for dinner,” she said.
If he were a better man, he'd tell her outright he wouldn't call her, they wouldn't see each other again. Coward that he was, he remained silent, lowered his head, and brushed his lips over hers.
She pressed her body to his, and when she stroked his mouth with her tongue, he lost it. Groaning, he crushed her in his arms and devoured her the way he'd been longing to. She sighed her pleasure, and the soft moan made his body throb. He hugged her tight and kissed her hungrily, hoping to fill himself with enough of her sweetness to last a lifetime.
Something bumped against their legs, and Emma jumped, then tore her mouth away. “Oh no! Jinx!” she cried.
Dan pivoted in time to spy a ginger fur ball disappear around the corner of the house.
Emma clapped her hands to her face. “Darn it. I left the door open again."
"I'll get him.” Dan sprinted down the sidewalk but slowed when he reached the corner of Emma's house. He didn't want to frighten the animal into running.
"Jinx? Here, Jinx,” he yelled in a hushed tone. Dan scanned the street, expecting to see the cat beating a hasty trail down the road, but there was no sign of the fleeing feline. Emma was right; Houdini would have been an apt name. How had the escape artist disappeared so fast?
"Here, kitty!” he called, then spotted a flash of movement and whipped around to see Jinx jump onto the hood of his SUV. Dan tiptoed to the car. “What are we going to do with your mistress?” Clearly Emma hadn't learned her lesson since Jinx's last escape. He scratched the cat behind the ears, and Jinx purred.
"Let's go inside.” Dan picked him up and carried him to Emma.
"Oh gosh, thank you! I could have been looking for him all night."
Dan scooted the cat inside the house and firmly shut the door.
Emma curled her lips downward. “Why am I so careless?"
"Perhaps because your inattention hasn't resulted in consequences,” Dan suggested quietly, his desires assuming control of his brain. “You want to keep Jinx inside, but other than the inconvenience of rounding him up, nothing happens when you don't follow through.” His heart leaped at the direction in which he was heading, while his common sense and conscience rang the alarm. Tanner, don't go there.
He continued. “Maybe you need to experience some.” Every muscle in his body grew taut as a bowstring, and his cock swelled. Why the fuck was he doing this? Emma's ass would be the last thing he saw before she hightailed it away faster than a cat on the lam.
"What do you mean?” Emma frowned with confusion.
Dan crossed his arms to keep from touching her. “Perhaps a spanking would remind you to be more careful in the future."
Her jaw dropped. “You-you want to spank me? For real?” she squeaked.
Now I've done it! He'd obviously lost his mind to some sort of lust-induced insanity. While his stomach lurched with dismay, his ever-optimistic cock throbbed.
He had one last chance to pass off his comment as a joke and leave Emma with, if not a favorable impression of him, then at least not an unpleasant one. “Yes, I want to spank you,” he said instead.
He was fucking, squirrel-assed nuts.
Eyes round, Emma swallowed hard, as if something had stuck in her throat. “All right."
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Chapter Seven
"What did you say?” Dan dropped his folded arms to his sides.
"I said yes, I'd like you to spank me,” Emma repeated, spelling it out with perfect clarity. Through interviews and discussions with spanked wives, Emma had learned that ambiguity had no place when it came to discipline. One needed to be very precise in expressing one's needs and limits.
But while her voice sounded strong, her stomach churned like the heavy-duty cycle on her washing machine. Nerves, she decided, even though her pussy flooded with enough moisture to soak her panties. The prospect of a spanking did not excite her. Absolutely not.
She would participate for her story. Period. During the silent drive home, she'd mulled over their earlier conversation about spanking. She couldn't help but wonder what it would feel like to have Dan strike her ass with his strong hands. The idea didn't turn her off as much as she had expected it would, and realizing that, she decided she would be remiss if she didn't experience a spanking for the Rod and Cane column. Even though she'd done the research, her knowledge was all on paper—she didn't know. She could only surmise from what other women had told her. She had secondhand facts.
Hadn't she gotten down and dirty and climbed into garbage Dumpsters? Spent a night on the street with the homeless lady she'd written about? Stomped grapes for her column on winemaking? How could she in good conscience write about domestic discipline without ever having been spanked?
Personal experience would build credibility, enrich her story, make it more visceral for the reader, and who better to do it with than a superhot guy she liked and trusted? Dan wouldn't hurt her. Well, no more than what a spanking would entail.
She wet her dry lips. “That is, if you're okay with it,” she said with faux calm, as if the invitation had been her idea and not his.
"Oh, I'm okay with it.” His gaze glowed as if lit from within. “It's all I've thought about all evening.” His chest rose and fell with his breath. “The truth is, Emma...I like to spank my sexual partners."
There it was, the missing link. It all made sense now: the way he'd squeezed and kneaded her butt when they'd fucked in the shower, the way he stared at her ass. Six months ago, his admission would have shocked her, scared into her fleeing in the opposite direction. But after the stories she'd heard...
"I wasn't entirely honest. I don't want to spank you because of Jinx, but because I like you and I'm attracted to you. But I don't want you to agree just to please me,” he said.
What a coincidence that she'd met a man who enjoyed spanking just as she wrapped up the Rod and Cane story. Or maybe not happenstance at all. She raised her gaze skyward. Perhaps the stars had aligned or some planet had shifted into retrograde, as Summer might say. No, Summer would be horrified her daughter even cont
emplated permitting a man to spank her.
Emma studied Dan's serious face. He'd been the one to broach the subject at dinner—and the one to end it after she vehemently denounced the practice. Well, duh. She mentally thumped herself on the head. That was when his mood had changed. He had been trying to tell her he wanted to spank her.
"I'm not,” she answered truthfully. “I want to try it. With you.” Not so very long ago, she would have crossed him off her list of potential dateables. But now? She couldn't do that. Didn't want to. She liked him too much. The idea of walking away from him twisted her heart. She didn't spurn Melania's friendship because the woman liked being spanked. So why reject Dan's affections?
But being friends with Melania doesn't jeopardize your ass.
"Are you sure?” Dan shoved his sleeves to his elbows, revealing strong, corded arms. The span of his shoulders stretched the fabric of his sweater. Stubble darkened his jaw. Gone were the boyish dimples, the easy grin. His skin seemed taut across his face. In contrast to his hesitant words, his presence and posture exuded dominance.
"Yes,” she lied with as much confidence as she could muster.
Dan cupped her neck and jaw, then tilted her head back. With his thumb, he stroked the underside of her chin, then homed in on the throbbing pulse in her neck. “Are you nervous?” he asked.
"A little,” she admitted. “But more curious.” She didn't want him to back out because he thought she wasn't ready. Her stomach fluttered with a foreign sensation. She marveled at the paradox: being naughty got one spanked, so why did the prospect of a spanking feel naughty?
"It's normal to be apprehensive,” he said. “It's part of the experience.” He paused. “I'll make it good for you, Emma. I promise."
Good grief, he made it sound sexual. Maybe it was for him, but for her, it represented a career move. Hands-on research. If her panties had dampened, it was because Dan got her hot and bothered, not the notion of being spanked. She refused to consider the possibility that submitting to that kind of dominance turned her on. Hear her roar. She was a strong-willed, independent woman, not some collared submissive who asked permission to speak.
