Spankee

by Ronda DeMure

  To her delight, Don took her hands in his, coaxing her to look up into his eyes. He took the panties from her and placed them on the table. “I want you to stand in the middle of the room,” he began. “Now, bend over and hold the calves of your legs. That’s right.”

  The blouse tickled as it slid across Rebecca’s bottom, completely exposing it by the time she was bent over. Her leg muscles were tight but her thought was not of any discomfort, she simply hoped that Don was enjoying this view of her legs. Always the person in charge of things around her house, here she liked being told what to do and realizing that she was posing for Don’s pleasure was strangely exhilarating. Why was it so important to please him?

  “Look at the straps of your shoes,” Don continued. “See how they’re buckled around your ankles? I want you imagine your wrists are also attached to them. Now, look towards me.”

  Rebecca’s face turned up and the audible click of Don’s camera committed her priceless expression and perfect pose to posterity. “Don’t worry,” he assured her as he stood and walked towards her. “That’s just for me.”

  Rebecca looked down again in anticipation as Don moved silently behind her. She felt something soft brushing upwards against the back of her thighs and tightened her grip. If only her wrists really were attached, she mused. How much better that would be that she would no longer have to consciously keep hold and simply enjoy Don touching her.

  “This is a crop,” Don explained as he moved it upwards to lightly stroke her buttocks. “As you can see, it consists of a delightful piece of leather which is capable of providing you with a most pleasant sensation.”

  “Mmm.” Rebecca’s eyes were slits.

  “And yet.”

  Rebecca felt a light tapping on her bottom followed by the sound of a quick snap.

  “It can also be quite useful in getting your attention.”

  Suddenly, the area that had been tapped was afire, but her senses had been drawn to another area already being tapped. The next snap preceded another bite on the opposite cheek and after six strokes had fallen in rapid succession her entire bottom was hot.

  “Hold this for me,” Don said as he pushed the shaft of the crop sideways into Rebecca’s mouth. She was thankful for something to bite down on.

  “Very nice,” he examined and caressed her hot bottom. “We have a most even patina.’ He gave each cheek a swat with his right hand then reached down, removed the crop from her mouth and took her left hand in his right. “You can stand up now,” he said, and pulled her towards himself as she did. Don’s left arm around her shoulders, Rebecca snuggled the side of her face into his chest while his right hand massaged her bottom. “Now that you’re nicely warmed up,” he whispered. “I’d better take you to the couch.”

  Rebecca eagerly snuggled face down across Don’s lap, soothed by his continued caressing of her still warm bottom. The first slaps seemed to flow out of the caresses but then increased in intensity with each subsequent stroke. Why was the heat from her bottom not registering as pain? How could she be so relaxed and yet so sexually aroused at the same time? Unable to fully comprehend the myriad of sensations she instead simply yielded to them and drifted into an almost dreamlike, disconnected state while Don continued his ministrations. It was her own increased breathing and feeble attempt to squirm against Don’s left hand that returned her to awareness; the awareness that her whole body was trembling with desire. That the fire from her bottom was also consuming her clitoris and it was in desperate need of relief. “Please.” It was barely a whisper falling out of her open mouth. “Please make me cum.” Rebecca had never uttered those words before. Never been in a situation where someone else had that degree of control over her. She would have been willing to beg if Don had told her to, but he made no demands of her. Instead she was rewarded with his hand between her legs and she gushed against him as who knows how many fingers effortlessly slid between her engorged pussy lips. She was completely spent before he removed them and he permitted her to remain in the delight of afterglow across his lap while he used her moisture to soothe her crimson bottom until she was once again able to speak.

  “Do you remember, at our first meeting, you asked me what I got out of this?” Don asked.

  “Yes?” Rebecca wrapped her arms around Don as she curled up in his lap.

  “I like one-time encounters; spanking a woman I’ve just met is exciting for me. I’ve had no interest in developing a relationship in the past because I don’t want to take away from that excitement, that newness.” He kissed the top of her head. “But I do like you, Rebecca. You respond so well to being spanked. So,” he leaned back into the couch and stroked her hair with his right hand, “If we were to make it different each time, we may just be able to figure out a way to make an ongoing spanking relationship work.”

  Rebecca looked up. “How would we make it different?”

  “When you look at spankings on line, do you ever come across role playing scenes?”

  Rebecca suddenly became aware of her heart beating. How did he know? Was she that transparent to him? “I love watching role plays,” she gasped.

  “Tell me your favorite.”

  There was something about the way he asked that caused Rebecca’s face to turn crimson and she bit at her lower lip, unable to respond, and tried to bury her head into his chest. Don gently hooked her chin with his right index finger, coaxing her face up to look at his again. “Schoolgirl?” he asked softly, to which she vigorously nodded.

  “I’m so pleased,” Don’s smile was contagious. “Do you have a uniform?”

  “My eldest daughter and I are about the same size. And she goes to catholic school so, yes. I could use one of her old uniforms.”

  “Splendid! I’d like you to come back here one day next week and bring it with you; you can change after you arrive. Be a ‘schoolgirl’ and you will meet the ‘headmaster.’” Don nodded slowly and smirked. “He knows precisely how to deal with naughty schoolgirls.”

  “Wednesdays are always the best days for me.”

  “Then Wednesday it is.” Don smiled broadly at Rebecca; her unasked question was so evident. “You don’t have to worry about any impropriety; the headmaster is simply going to discipline you.”

  3. Chapter Three: Spanking

  Wednesday couldn’t come soon enough for Rebecca. As soon as the girls had left for school she folded up one of Deborah’s old uniforms into a canvas bag and tucked behind the driver’s seat of her car. It was now time for a shower. Don’s instructions had been very specific; she was to be completely free of makeup and perfume, and complying was providing her with an odd, almost liberating, sensation. She smiled at herself in the mirror as she dried her hair, then quickly dressed in a blouse and blue jeans and was soon on her way to Don’s house.

  When the front door opened she eagerly scurried inside clutching the bag with both hands. Don smiled at her and gestured to the bathroom at the end of the hallway. “Take your time,” he said, “Then come and knock on my office door when you’re ready.”

  In order to get ready in the bathroom Rebecca was to completely strip, which included removing all of her jewelry. She hung her clothes in the small cupboard, carefully placed her watch, earrings and wedding ring into a small pouch she had brought with her and tucked it inside her purse, and then put the purse in the cupboard and closed the door. She then opened the canvas bag and first took out the white panties that Don had liked so much on their previous session and slid them on. Don told her that she did not need to wear a bra and she enjoyed the sensation of the white cotton blouse on her already aroused nipples as she buttoned it up. Once dressed, she fluffed her hair back behind her ears and proceeded down the hallway to Don’s office, her combination excited/nervous feeling now impacting her breathing. Don told her she would feel this way before the scene began, explaining it to her as quite natural trepidation. But he had also assured her that, once she was inside his office that feeling would give way to her, as he called it, “bein
g in the moment.” Rebecca stood nervously outside the door, very much hoping that was going to be the case. She took a deep breath and knocked.

  “Enter.” The reply was immediate and matter-of-fact. Rebecca’s trembling hand turned the knob and as soon as she was inside she closed the door behind her. Don, now the headmaster for this role play, was sitting behind an over sized oak desk. He raised his right hand and beckoned her with two fingers, then silently watched without expression as she walked across the rug to stand attentively in front of the desk, her hands clasped behind her back and her eyes looking down at her shiny black shoes. Rebecca suddenly became very aware of the twelve inches of naked leg between the top of her socks and the hem of her pleated skirt, yet that feeling of vulnerability was also incredibly exhilarating.

  “It has come to my attention, young lady,” the headmaster’s deep English accent boomed, “That you not only neglected to refer to the mathematics instructor as ‘sir’ but, when he verbally reprimanded you for it, you proceeded to suggest he ‘get over it’.” He paused. “Is this correct?”

  “I’m sorry, Sir.” The mumbled words were out before Rebecca realized she had even spoken them. Why was she so naturally falling into this role of a schoolgirl, apologizing to something she had not actually done?

  “I should very much hope so, young lady. It is now my responsibility to instill in you that such insubordination will not be tolerated.” The headmaster leaned back into his leather chair.

  Rebecca bit at her lower lip as her hands clenched tighter together.

  “Since this is the first time I’ve had occasion to see you in my office, I suspect we do not need to resort to a caning this time. I shall provide you instead with a spanking which I trust will serve as a reminder to mind your manners in the future. Do you understand?”

  “Yes, Sir. Thank you sir.”

  “Very good.” The headmaster stood up. “You will now bend over the desk.”

  Those words causing her breathing to accelerate, schoolgirl Rebecca stepped forward and leaned across the desktop, her arms above her head, while the headmaster walked around and stood to her left side. She closed her eyes and squirmed involuntarily as she felt her skirt being lifted and laid across her back. This was so much better than watching on the internet. The headmaster had not even touched her yet she was already tingling between her legs and her aroused nipples were further stimulated by every movement as she pushed them against the desk.

  “These are not regulation panties, girl.” A swat to her right buttock accompanied the headmaster’s stern words.

  Rebecca had worn them because Don had previously liked them but, at this moment, he was not Don and she was not Rebecca. That realization instantly disconnected her from her former self and at that moment she was the schoolgirl, compliantly apologetic as the headmaster slid her offending panties to her ankles and proceeded to discipline her wanting bottom. The first two strokes hurt but she suppressed the urge to cry out, instead concentrating on the rush of warmth radiating over her backside. When the flow of warmth met the tingle she no longer registered the slaps as pain but as something else. Something she had no words for. Did it hurt? Under other circumstances it might have but here, here it was pure excitement. Her panting increased until she could no longer close her mouth and her fingers clawed at the wooden desk as her body shuddered. The headmaster stopped spanking and massaged her flaming bottom until she became limp, then sat down in one of the wooden chairs in front of his desk. “Stand up, girl,” he instructed.

  She pushed herself to her feet and turned to face him, her panties still around her ankles.

  “We still have another offense to deal with, don’t we, young lady?”

  “You mean, um, my lace panties, Sir?”

  “Indeed! They belie an exhibitionist streak in you, since that could be the only possible reason for wearing them.” He brought his fingertips together. “So before I provide you with your reminder to dress appropriately in the future, I shall give you an opportunity to also contemplate this unsavory tendency. Do you see the hook on the back of the door?”

  “Yes. Yes, I do, Sir.”

  “Hang your panties on it.”

  Rebecca stepped out of them, her mind scrambling as to what the headmaster might be referring to as time to contemplate. It sounded like he was going to eventually spank her again, but what was to come first?

  “Now your blouse.”

  “Sir?”

  “Hang your blouse on the hook.”

  Rebecca had been excited when Don had stripped her before, but as a schoolgirl being ordered to take her clothes off in front of the headmaster she was strangely embarrassed. She removed her blouse but instinctively covered her breasts with her hands as she turned to face him. He made no comment about her apparent shyness and simply told her to also hang her skirt on the hook, then watched as she turned her back to him and fumbled with the waistband.

  “You will now stand right here,” the headmaster pointed to spot in the middle of the carpet a yard in front of where he was sitting. “Place your feet eighteen inches apart and your hands behind your head. You will remain in that position for five minutes.”

  The excitement of being a humiliated schoolgirl was more than Rebecca could conceal and she panted as beads of liquid trickled down the inside of her naked thighs while she stood as still as possible, the headmaster simply looking at her without expression and saying nothing. After a long five minutes, he rose and walked behind her, stroked his hand across her crimson buttocks, then stood to her right side. “I am now going to provide you with punishment for incorrectly wearing your uniform,” he said. “And since your bottom has already been spanked, I will administer it to your front.”

  Rebecca sucked in a deep breath through her partially open mouth, the realization of what was about to happen gushing into her already over stimulated mind.

  “Six slaps should be sufficient.” The headmaster watched her trembling face then added rhetorically, “Don’t you agree?”

  As his hand made repeated contact with the moisture between Rebecca’s legs she was unable to contain her gasps but managed to remain standing. The fourth slap brought her to what she thought was the edge or orgasm but the remaining two only inched her that much closer. She wanted another slap, just one more might do it, but the headmaster had completed his discipline. Eyes almost closed, her trembling body began to rock back and forth until the headmaster took hold of her right arm to steady her. “I can’t possibly allow you to remain in this state, can I?” he asked softly.

  “Please, sir...” she panted.

  “You’d better drop your hands and lie down on the rug,” he said, easing her to the floor. She lay down on her back, arms at her sides and her feet slightly apart facing the chair the headmaster had previously been sitting on. She looked up quizzically. The chair he was now sitting on. What was he doing? She desperately needed to be touched.

  “Since it would be inappropriate for me to touch you,” the headmaster said matter-of-factly, cradling his fingertips, “I give you permission provide yourself with relief. You may proceed.”

  Rebecca bit her lower lip. Masturbation had always her secret and it was private, no-one had ever seen her touch herself and even if Nick had wanted to watch she would have absolutely refused him. Yet, here, her right hand already having found its way to her quivering mound, there was no thought of embarrassment. With the expert manual dexterity Rebecca had developed over years of married life she earnestly brought herself to merciful orgasm while headmaster, sitting quietly only a few feet away, was afforded an unobstructed view of her fingers dancing with abandon between her now spread legs.

  4. Chapter Four: Becky

  Don instructed Rebecca to take a day to reflect on their role play and told her they would meet at the coffee shop on Friday to discuss how she felt about it, as well talk more about the spanking relationship she had proposed earlier. Nothing else occupied her mind during that time interval. The sex with Nick the night
following the spanking had, once again, been exceptional; her clitoris and g-spot, in an elevated state of arousal due to the discipline received from the headmaster, delivered her into multiple orgasms before her husband had finished with her. Furthermore, she had no qualms that it had been another man who had made it so: it was a naughty schoolgirl that had been spanked, not Rebecca. She liked that disconnect very much and was delighted that it became the first topic of discussion when she met with Don.

  “I want to know your feelings about the different times I’ve spanked you.” Don began. “What was different between them for you?”

  “The first time was exciting but I also felt a twinge of guilt afterwards. That’s why it took me a week of agonizing over it before I contacted you again. But I felt no guilt at all after last time and you even had me masturbate in front of you. “Rebecca’s face beamed. “Is that what happens, the more you do something the less you feel guilty about it?”

  “Do you know why I had you remove your makeup and jewelry?”

  “So I’d be a more authentic schoolgirl?”

  “Partially true, but also to remove your identity as Rebecca and enable you to more effectively assume that role.”

  “And it worked. It was almost like I was watching someone else.”

  “That’s why there was no guilt. If it had been Rebecca getting spanked you most likely would have been torn over that same guilt again, but as ‘someone else’ it is not Rebecca that is being spanked.” Don paused and looked across the table; he had Rebecca’s rapt attention. “Did you like being a schoolgirl?”

  “Very much,” Rebecca wished she hadn’t responded so readily and, slightly embarrassed, her fingers began to absentmindedly fondle her face. “I liked everything about it,” she added quietly, speaking to her coffee cup. “You know, I would have done anything you, the headmaster, told me.” She looked back up at Don. “Why was that?”