by Cara Bristol
Dan was the conductor and a cunnilingus virtuoso; he'd made her come in no time flat. Of course, he'd primed her perfectly—like dry kindling, all it took was a lit match for her to go up in flames. If the spanking was anywhere close to as good as the way he'd eaten her pussy, she was in for a real treat.
Upon reaching Dan's bedroom, she faltered, momentarily unsure. Should she crawl into bed? Or wait beside it? No worries, she thought. Dan would tell her.
"Remove your bra,” he said upon entering the bedroom. He gestured with the paddle. “Leave your shoes and stockings on."
Emma twisted her arms behind her back and unhooked her bra, then let it drop to the floor. Her breasts had essentially been bare, but without the armor of her bra, she felt a frisson of vulnerability. He still wore his jeans, but the open fly framed his hard-on. At full salute, his shaft was as hard as stone, its mushroom head oozing fluid. Her lips tingled from sucking that monster. His cock reminded her of a policeman's baton; a man could take charge with a nightstick like that. Suddenly, playing “yes sir, no sir” seemed a little less like a game and more like the real deal.
She eyed the muscles rippling across his chest and abdomen and bunching in his sinewy arms. His body shouted strength and power, and her feminine one responded, her pussy dampening, her stomach fluttering.
He gripped the paddle as if he planned to use it right then. “Tell me, how many swats did you earn for your naughtiness?"
She knew exactly how many, except for the ones he'd refused to spell out. “I-I don't know, sir,” she fibbed. “I've forgotten."
"That would be sixty."
"It was forty!” She corrected him with a snap of her head. “Sir!"
"So you did know. You lied.” Dan smacked the paddle against his palm. “Sixty it shall be.” He paused. “Plus the others."
Emma gulped. Could she withstand it? Her quivering pussy thought she could, but she wasn't sure. She couldn't recall how many strikes she'd gotten with the hairbrush, but didn't think it had been that many. Then again, the delicious burn had faded all too fast. Maybe this time the afterglow would last longer so she'd have a keepsake for later. “Thank you, sir,” she responded.
Dan stripped off his jeans with an easy motion and kicked them aside. The sight of his cock jutting out of his Levi's was sexy, but it paled compared to the sight of him totally naked, his body appearing even more endowed, more masculine, more dangerous to her libido and self-control.
He sat on the edge of the bed, posture erect, his cock at full staff. “Get over here."
Emma couldn't take her eyes off his hard-on. Holy fuck, he looked huge. No, he was huge, her aching jaw attested. When she moved beside him and reached for his erection, he stopped her with a shake of his head.
"Lie across my lap."
Emma wiggled into position, using the opportunity to bump and grind against him. His harshly drawn breath filled her with triumph, and she made a great show of trying to get comfortable until he growled a warning. Emma ceased teasing then; she desired the spanking, but sixty swats seemed like a lot. She'd better not push him too far, or he might give her more than she'd bargained for.
He curled one hand over her waist and held her snugly while with the other he fondled her buttocks. The rough hair on his thighs tickled her tummy, and his pistonlike cock dug into her side. A sampling of heaven, she thought, and sighed.
As his caresses dwindled and the kneading got firmer, the swats started—quick, light taps that caused only a slight sting.
"Ooh.” She moaned as if it hurt and faked a twist to roll off his lap.
He clamped her against him and walloped her ass hard. “That's pain,” he said.
Emma mewled in agreement.
From that point, he spanked her with serious intent, alternating cheeks and slowly ratcheting up the force until she couldn't help but kick to avoid the blows she sought. His breathing sped up, and his cock leaked his arousal on her skin. She herself left a wet, sticky spot on his thigh.
Dan delivered a hard spank directly onto a sore spot, then shifted her to lie facedown on the bed, her legs braced on the floor. He shoved a pillow under her hips.
Emma's stomach fluttered with anticipation.
Though she couldn't see him, she sensed him behind her. Dominance and power seeped from his very pores, radiated in an aura to entice her submission, a gift she was eager to give. She inhaled the scent of sex, male and female. Her preheated butt throbbed; its pulsing echoed in her pussy and clit.
"What's the word?” he demanded.
She repeated her safe word. “Bulldozer, sir.” Because “no” didn't always mean “no,” he'd told her at the start of the game that she'd need a word she was unlikely to say in a sexual situation to halt the action if he delivered more than she could take. Bulldozer, the most incongruous word she could think of, popped into her head. She vowed to herself she wouldn't use it, even if the experience got more intense than what she'd expected. She intended to go the distance, to prove she could handle this. It would please Dan, but intuition whispered that her own rewards would be even more profound and urged her to commit fully.
"You'll count out the spanks,” he instructed with the clipped voice of a drill sergeant. “And you'll thank me for each one. If you lose track, we start over."
Emma gulped. That was a new wrinkle. “Yes, sir.” She'd no sooner uttered her agreement when Dan smacked her left cheek. Sharp pain zigzagged across her flesh.
She gasped, forming an O with her mouth. “One! Thank you, sir."
Another swat, just like the first, landed on the other moon. Emma gripped the bedcover tightly. “Two. Thank you, sir."
He paddled her from the tops of her thighs to the fleshy part of her buttocks, avoiding her lower spine, where she could be injured. He struck and she counted, working as a team to redden her ass.
She tried to take it stoically but found herself twitching under the paddle's bite, flailing her legs. Within no time, her backside seemed to be on fire, and each strike whipped the flames higher.
"Thirty-six! Thank you, sir,” she called in a husky voice. She twisted the bedclothes in her fists. This paddling was much more intense than the last one. Her entire sit spot burned fiercely.
Be strong. Be strong. You can do this.
Crack!
"Oh, God!” Emma cried out, and tears sprang to her eyes. She might have to spend her entire workday on her feet.
"Do you need me to stop?” Dan asked even though she hadn't shouted out the names of any heavy machinery.
Yes! yelled her feminist alter ego, raised by a liberated mother and a supportive, sensitive father. Hell no, protested her creaming pussy, and most surprisingly, her aching ass. She couldn't explain it, but despite the pain, being spanked filled her with righteous satisfaction, answered a need she hadn't known she had until recently.
Emma sniffed and dashed away her tears with the back of her hand. “No, sir. Please continue.” Her voice wobbled.
"Then count it out,” he reminded her gently.
What number are we on? Emma's heart pounded. Had she counted thirty-five or thirty-six? Her breathing hitched. Would he really start over if she got it wrong? “Thirty...six?"
Oh God, he isn't saying anything. Emma's stomach leaped into her throat. Then she remembered. “Thank you, sir."
"That's my girl!” he praised and delivered another hard whack. She expected another blow to follow, but he paused. “Will you let me take a photo of your freshly spanked ass?"
The Rod and Cane mansion housed many pictures and photographs of spanked women. Even before she'd had a change of heart about spanking, the artwork awed her. Could she look as beautiful as those women did displaying their blushing bottoms?
"If you want,” Emma said. Her stomach fluttered with excitement.
"Oh, I want,” he rasped. Her pleasure soared to a new high at the warmth in his voice.
He resumed spanking, and she thanked him for every punishing kiss and meant it from the depth of he
r soul.
The extra swats ended up being five more. By the time Dan delivered the sixty-fifth spank, Emma existed in a state of agonized bliss. Her face was damp from her tears, her inner thighs from her arousal. The spanking had awakened every nerve ending; she could feel each individual molecule of air brush against her skin. Her ass hurt, but her feminine core ached and pulsed with desire.
Dan flung the paddle onto the bed. “I need you. I can't wait,” he grunted. He closed his hands around her hips and thrust into her.
Emma arched with relief, satisfaction. “Fuck me like you spanked me—hard."
He groaned and pounded into her, driving his cock balls-deep into her channel. The slap of his powerful thighs, the abrasion of his coarse body hair sent blissful sizzles zinging through her. His breath blew hot against her ear and neck. With every thrust, his cock ravished her clit. Being filled had never felt so good, so right.
Emma rose onto her tiptoes and rocked against him, and Dan growled. “That's it. Take me, baby. Take my cock. All of it.” He shoved his hand under her hips and pressed the heel of his palm against her mons. Sharp sensation bombarded her inside and out.
The walls of her pussy drew tight, burning with tension. She was close, so close. “Harder, Dan. Harder. Harder,” she urged him.
Her orgasm hit with magnum force, more intense than the hardest whack Dan had inflicted on her sore ass. Shuddering, she jerked her head back. “Daaaannn, Daaaannn,” she wailed.
"Yes, naughty girl, scream for me,” Dan growled and slapped her ass. She let out another cry as the spank unleashed another shock wave of pleasure.
He gripped her hips with both hands again and thrust deep and hard; then he pulled out and shot ribbons of cum over her blazing ass and lower back.
Dan's ragged breathing mingled with Emma's. He braced himself on his fists. Perspiration dripped onto her from his sweating body. The scent of sex pervaded the room, filled her nostrils, and seeped into the marrow of her bones.
As their passion subsided, his cum cooled on her skin. “You didn't need to pull out,” Emma said. “I'm on birth control. I have an implant.” She nodded toward her arm.
He stroked the tiny lump under her skin. “I noticed,” he said, adding, “and you don't need to worry about anything. You're the only woman I've fucked without a rubber since I took a chance or two back in high school.” He swirled a finger in the semen coating her ass. Holy fuck, her butt ached. Deep within the muscle in a most satisfying way.
"I wanted to come on you.” He caressed the globes, massaged his spunk into her skin. “On your gorgeous cherry-red ass."
Pleasure and pain danced across her skin under his gentle touch. “That feels good.” She moved against his hand.
"I wasn't too hard on you, was I?"
Deliciously, devilishly so. “You were perfect."
A rumble of satisfaction erupted from his throat. “You were magnificent.” He paused. “You owe me twenty bucks.” Emma could hear the smile in his voice.
She twisted her mouth ruefully. “I never should have made that bet."
"Maybe I'll let you work it off with a spanking?"
Emma's pussy tightened. “Deal."
He drew circles on a throbbing cheek. “You're a natural bottom, you know."
"I realize that now.” Emma sighed.
Dan stopped caressing, stepped back, and eased Emma to a standing position. He gently gripped her upper arms and scanned her face. “Does that bother you?"
It was a relief to identify the yearning that had shadowed her for as long as she could remember. The emptiness of her unmet need had infiltrated her sexual relationships, her friendships, her career, her everything. The desire to be spanked had been like a deep well in her soul.
A well Dan had filled.
She'd never known until now what it felt like to be sated; she'd only ever been hungry. That had been the lure of the Rod and Cane story all along. Her cover—that she was seeking a man to spank her—had turned out to be the truth. She hadn't lied to the others; she'd fibbed to herself.
But her journalism career still mattered. What the hell was going to do? She couldn't publish the Rod and Cane story, but she couldn't not publish it.
"It's complicated,” she said. “I didn't expect to feel this way."
"Like what way?” He wound a strand of her hair around his finger, then tucked it behind her ear.
"Like everything I've believed about myself up to this point was make-believe.” Emma looked at him. “When did you know you liked to spank women?"
He shrugged. “I can't ever remember not being turned on by spanking. I'd wanted to spank my girlfriends in high school, but of course, I didn't know how to approach them with it, so I didn't. I spanked someone for the first time in college. My girlfriend wasn't into it, but to please me she allowed me to do it every now and then."
She hated the thought of Dan sharing that intimacy with other women. “Do you—did you—spank all your girlfriends?” Jealousy sharpened her tone.
Dan tapped her lightly on the nose. “Very few, actually. I decided to share spanking only with somebody I care about.” His gaze grew serious. “I'm falling for you, Emma. I want you to be my lover, my friend, and my spanking partner."
A burst of happiness exploded in her chest. “I can't imagine being with anybody but you,” she said. “Or being spanked by anyone else.” She did yearn to have her bottom peppered with stinging kisses, but only by someone she loved. “I feel like I belong with you and you with me,” she added and watched as a grin lit up Dan face.
Spanking had stripped away the dross of pretense, to reveal a pure gold nugget of truth. Emma peered up at Dan through her lashes. “I trust you completely."
"I trust you too,” he said.
[Back to Table of Contents]
Chapter Eleven
Emma eyed Dan's roses on her coffee table. The blush-colored flowers evoked wonderful memories of his mastery, the connection and closeness forged by the spanking. Not that she needed flowers to remind her, she thought as she settled gingerly onto her sofa. To her satisfaction, the pain from the paddling two days ago hadn't dissipated the way the first spanking had, and she relished every twinge and tingle as she went about her business, feeling as if a little bit of Dan walked beside her throughout the day. Spanking branded together loving and dominance. The pain emphasized his tenderness, which in turn made the spanking that much more exciting.
She would see Dan again on Saturday night. Emma clenched her butt cheeks in hopeful anticipation. Within a very short period of time, she'd gotten hooked—on Dan and on spanking.
Curling her legs underneath her, she settled her laptop across her thighs and opened the file with the photos Dan had shot with her digital camera. Her pussy pulsed at the images of her scarlet backside. Against the whiteness of her stockings, her ass looked quite red indeed.
The color and pain probably would fade by Saturday, and Emma fervently hoped the evening's entertainment would include another round of spanking. She grinned. She still needed to pay off her “gambling debt."
Emma indulged in a final lingering look at the photos. She'd e-mail Dan a set of the best ones, but first she needed to put to bed some unfinished business. She opened a new windowpane and typed an e-mail to her editor.
Dear Jennifer:
Unfortunately, due to personal reasons, I am not going to be able to meet my commitment on the column about the Rod and Cane Society, the organization of men who spank their wives. I will write and submit a new article for my Sunday slot.
Short and not-so-sweet, but what else could she do? She'd hold off on sending the e-mail until she figured out exactly what to write about. She moved her mouse and opened the other e-mail, the one she'd planned to send.
Dear Jennifer:
My column on the secret men's organization that advocates spanking wives to maintain discipline is ready to go. During my six-month investigation of the Rod and Cane Society, I was privy to confidential discussions and me
etings. I spoke with scores of women. I feel sure that public reaction to this story will be strong. For this reason, I used pseudonyms to protect the privacy and reputations of the women and men I interviewed. The column is attached. I'm assuming this will run in Cassidy's fourth Sunday slot as usual?
Emma
She had omitted to mention that had her sources known she was a news columnist, they would not have spoken to her, and she would have been booted out of Rod and Cane on her ass. But how she attained the information didn't matter anymore.
Emma clicked Delete.
Are you sure you want to delete this message?
A heavy knocking rattled her front door.
Emma jumped. She shut the lid of her laptop and set the computer next to Dan's roses.
"Who is it?” she called from the foyer.
"Let me in, Emma,” ordered a familiar male voice.
She groaned and opened the door. “What is it, Ron?"
Her ex looked as if he hadn't shaved since the last time she'd seen him, and his wrinkled T-shirt and jeans appeared to have been slept in. A powdery residue of something orange—cheese puffs, perhaps—was smeared across his chest. He moved forward, forcing her to step back, and she caught a whiff of stale beer as he entered.
Ron pushed the door shut with his body, then leaned against it. “I lost my job.” He raked a hand through his hair, something he'd been doing a lot of, judging from its disheveled state.
"Oh Ron, I'm sorry.” She touched his arm in sympathy.
His fixed a gaze on her face. “I need you, Em. I want to try again."
"I'm sorry. No.” Anger tightened her stomach at his manipulative ploy. Why did he put her in the position of rejecting him when he was already down?
"There's somebody else, isn't there?” He glared at her accusingly.
"Who there is or isn't doesn't matter. You and I were finished a long time ago. We should move on with our lives."
Ron jerked his gaze away, and Emma could tell the instant he spotted the roses. He stiffened, his entire body going rigid as if he'd turned to stone. He stomped into her living room. “Tell me you're not seeing someone!"
