I shoved the crotch of my panties off to the side and started rubbing my clit for all it was worth. I had no fear that Trish might wake up. She was dead to the world. And besides, it wasn’t the first time I’d masturbated in her bed with her sleeping beside me.
I thought about Mr. Murphy. He couldn’t have possibly known that putting his hand on my knee for that brief moment would set off such a reaction under my skirt.
After a few seconds I thought about throwing the covers off of me. It had already gotten too hot under the sheets. I used two fingers to work my clit in circles and grabbed the covers with my other hand. That’s when I heard a knock at the door.
I stopped. Was it what I thought? It couldn’t possibly be... I sat up and looked at Trish to make sure she was still asleep, then whispered loudly, “Come in,” but there was no response. So, I jumped out of bed and walked to the door with my heart pounding violently inside my chest.
I took a moment to comb through my hair with my fingers, primping, before opening the door.
And there he was.
“Samantha,” Mr. Murphy said, softly. He had changed into blue flannel pajama pants and a plain black T-shirt.
“Yes?” I swallowed, hard, staring up at him.
He poked his head inside the room and gave sleeping Trish a quick glance, then motioned for me to walk into the hallway.
I followed him and closed the door behind me, taking a step forward to stand in front of him. I was afraid to get my hopes up. Standing there alone with him in the hall made my racing heart beat even faster. Neither of us said a word. He looked down at me like he wanted to say something, then ran his hand across his forehead, wincing.
“What is it?” I asked with a shaky voice.
Mr. Murphy’s eyes widened. I saw him take a deep breath before reaching down to my wrist. “Come on.”
I ran alongside Mr. Murphy as he pulled me down the hall. Was my fantasy finally coming true? Or had I fallen asleep, and this was just a beautiful dream?
It didn’t matter. My panties were drenched by the time we reached the den.
He walked to his old leather chair and stood in front of it. “Samantha.”
“Uh huh?”
“I’ve given it some thought.” He cleared his throat and gave me a stern glare. “And I think you really do need a spanking for not looking after my daughter tonight.”
I inhaled sharply. At once, I was scared from Mr. Murphy’s serious tone. It was eerily similar to my fantasies, but being faced with the prospect of a real spanking from that man was somehow different. Memories of all the times I’d been spanked as a child came flooding back to me. I was no longer the sexy, horny, wild girl I’d been a minute earlier. I was now just a little girl who might receive a real spanking for the first time in several years, and it might hurt - a lot.
I cowered in front of Mr. Murphy and peered up into his eyes, trying to show him my innocence. “You wanna spank me? For real?”
He set his jaw, nodding. “Yes,” he said, in a tone that was a little too firm to be sexy.
“Oh.” I bit my lower lip and looked down at the floor. Was he kidding? What the hell had I gotten myself in to? Why had the idea of this ever turned me on? My fantasies always led to us fucking in some way, but there was nothing about his current demeanor that said, ‘let’s screw.’
“Come on.” He sat down on the chair behind him. “You know what to do. I know your parents spanked you.” Then he sighed. “And I remember very well the day I spanked you myself.” He paused to chuckle. “You know, if you hadn’t reminded me, I probably wouldn’t have brought you in here. But no girl’s too old for a good spanking. And the more I thought about it, it seemed wrong to me that you were sober, and I had to carry my daughter through the door, plastered.”
Tears welled up in my eyes. “I’m sorry, Mr. Murphy. I tried to stop her...”
“I don’t need to hear your excuses. You look like you didn’t drink at all but Trish couldn’t even walk. Did you leave her alone to drink by herself, or let her wander off with those guys?”
“No.”
He made a ‘tsk tsk’ sound with his tongue. “That’s not what Harvey told me when I spoke to him. He said it was you, Trish, and those two morons you used to hang out with in high school...”
“Roger and Carter.”
“Don’t interrupt me, young lady.” Mr. Murphy arched an eyebrow. “As I was saying, Harvey told me one of the morons said you were encouraging them to all play a drinking game.”
“He said that? He lied!”
“No.” He shook his head. “I think the liar’s standing in front of me, and I need to spank some sense into her.”
“What?” How could this be happening? I didn’t want a real spanking. The only reason I encouraged them to play that dumb game was because I wanted to get them all drunk so I could come home sooner. And now Mr. Murphy wanted to punish me for real, like a child. Maybe it wouldn’t be as bad I thought. Or maybe I could get out of it. “I don’t have to agree to this.” I turned on my heel and took a few steps toward the door. “You’re not my dad.”
“No, but I could call him. You want me to call him?”
I stopped in my tracks. Shit! I didn’t need Mr. Murphy putting thoughts in my dad’s head. Thoughts of giving me, an eighteen year old woman, a real spanking. I was pissed! How could this happen to me? It would ruin my fantasy forever, and I realized something very important right then: some things are better left in fantasy world.
I turned around slowly, glaring at Mr. Murphy, wanting him to see my anger. “Don’t you dare call my dad. I’m an adult. I can make my own decisions.”
“Oh really?” He snickered. “Adults don’t get their friends drunk for their own selfish reasons.”
“Selfish reasons?” I thought about telling him my reasons but they sounded dumb inside my head. I wanted to come home early to see you. I clearly saw how fucking stupid I was. What did I expect to happen? Was I going to seduce him? I thought the fact that he looked me up and down in the car meant he was interested, like I might get my way. Yeah right. I felt like I was living in a real life ‘choose your own adventure’ book and I had somehow chosen the path to hell.
“Yes," he said. “It was selfish of you to encourage other people to drink like that. I don’t give a damn about those idiot boys but I sure give a damn about my baby girl, and you’re gonna be punished for getting her drunk. Do you know how many teenagers die of alcohol poisoning every year?”
I said nothing. Instead, I looked down at the floor and bit my fingernail.
“What you did was serious. Maybe I should just call your dad and see if he wants to come over here and get you. Or maybe I’ll send you home in the middle of the night. I’ll tell him to dust off that paddle. ‘The Yellow Stinger?’ Isn’t that what you guys called it?”
“No.” Fresh tears came to my eyes. “The Yellow Hornet.”
Mr. Murphy laughed. “Yeah. Well, you think he might decide to use it on you if I have a talk with him?”
Yeah, probably. I already knew the answer. But in defiance, I shrugged and looked down at the floor instead of answering. I couldn’t believe I had gotten myself into this situation. He was going to call my dad and tell him to paddle me? My dad hadn’t paddled me in two years but I knew he’d do it that weekend if Greg Murphy called him. I felt blood rush to my cheeks, then started lightly kicking the carpet with my bare feet.
“I think you’d better come on.” He patted his knee. “Just take your punishment.”
I didn’t want to do it, but I had a feeling he was about to leave the room and pick up a phone if I kept fighting it. “Are you gonna tell my dad?”
“Only if you don’t take your spanking tonight. If you just hurry up and take it, we’ll never say a word if you don’t.”
“We?”
“Yeah, me and my wife. She knows I’m in here. In fact, I think she might’ve been mad enough to spank you herself.” He once again patted his knee. “Come on. Up and ove
r. And this time it’s on your bare butt. You’re old enough to know better.”
I took a deep breath, then walked toward him, reluctantly. That same sick feeling came over me, the one I used to get when I was about to get a spanking as a child. That nauseating feeling of dread and acceptance. And I sure as hell didn’t want to take a chance of receiving a paddling - or worse - from my dad.
I stood there at Mr. Murphy’s thigh, just about to bend over. Shouldn’t this be the part where I’m turned on? My fantasy was suddenly vivid in my head. And it was nothing like this.
Mr. Murphy glared at me. “I don’t have all night. Come on. Over my knee.”
I gulped. As a last ditch effort to try to make the situation a little brighter for myself, I looked in his eyes, hoping to see his sympathy like I had that day so many years ago. But his eyes were cold. The only emotion I saw was anger.
And somehow, his anger turned me on. Sure, it might hurt, but I looked around for a second and realized he was going to spank my bare butt with his hand. Yes! I knew I had to suppress my smile and prepare to embrace the pain. I was determined to make the most out of this disappointing situation. I had boyfriends over the years who spanked me once in a while, and I loved it, but it was nothing like a real spanking. And here he was - the man who had driven my imagination wild over the years. And he was about to spank me, for real.
I met his angry stare. “You said ‘bare bottom,’ right?”
He smirked. “Yes.”
“Okay.” I pulled up my little nightgown that barely covered my ass, and slipped my thumbs inside the waistband of my pink panties. I stood there at his thigh and pushed them down, stopping a few inches below my butt.
I didn’t turn to give him another look. With my panties pulled down, I bent forward, across his lap. He immediately grabbed my waist and pushed me along a little further until my hands lay flat against the carpet and my feet no longer touched the floor.
Mr. Murphy couldn’t see it, but I was smiling ear to ear. I closed my eyes and inhaled deeply, reveling in the way his strong arm secured me to his lap. He grabbed my panties and pulled them down to my knees.
Maybe this won’t be bad at all, I thought, as I felt a cool draft of air against my bare skin.
And then the spanking began. Immediately, I knew I was wrong.
I screamed, “Ow!” when the first blow landed. It was obvious that Mr. Murphy didn’t require the aid of a belt or a paddle, because his hand could painfully do the job all by itself.
“Samantha, I’m not gonna take it easy on you like I did the first time," he said. “You’re a big girl now.” He gave me a sharp smack, making me scream once again. “You knew better. I shouldn’t have to take a college girl over my knee for a spanking.”
“You still don’t have to!” I gritted my teeth, bracing myself for the next blow.
Mr. Murphy laughed, then smacked me again. This time I started kicking my legs. “Hold still,” he said, his laughter quickly subsiding. “Your butt’s gonna be on fire by the time I’m done with it.”
He gave me another hard slap, then another, then another, until I was unable to hold back my tears. I knew if Trish was awake she could hear all the noise from her room. I tried to tell myself that I wanted this, and that the man I’d thought about all those years was doing exactly what I desired. But nothing took away my pain, or my tears. In between loud slaps at my bare bottom, he barked things like, “you’re overdue for this,” and, “thought you were an adult, huh?”
At some point I felt my panties fall all the way down to my ankles, only to be kicked off completely after the next smack of Mr. Murphy’s hand.
Just when I thought I couldn’t take anymore, he stopped spanking me, and started rub my burning skin. I took a deep breath in and blew it out, ready to stand up.
And then he gave me another swat. It made my body jolt.
“Hey!” I wiggled against him. “I thought you were finished.”
“Not just yet.” Mr. Murphy slapped my upper thigh, not hard enough to make me yelp. “Do you agree that you deserved this?”
I sniffled. He was still rubbing my butt. I blinked some tears out of my eyes and then closed them, enjoying the feeling. His hand slid up and down my thigh. And somehow, right then, it was all worth it. My pussy ached for his touch in a new way. It was more of a desperation... a longing. Laying there across his lap, freshly spanked, made me forget about the pain I’d just suffered. It suddenly didn’t feel that bad, even though I was still crying.
I took a deep breath just as he gave my butt another swat.
“Ow!” I yelled. Only this time, my pussy was positively soaked. And I had to force myself to sound hurt. The pain had somehow turned into pleasure. Was it because of endorphins? I had no idea. I just knew that every part of me felt alive, and every part of me wanted him. The feel of his hand massaging my skin made my breath catch in my throat. Could he see how excited I was? It had to be obvious. He kept on rubbing me and rubbing me until I let out a deep moan.
Mr. Murphy’s hand stopped just above my pussy, and stayed there, motionless. A few seconds later I heard him sigh. “You think you’re ready to be a good girl?”
“Damn,” I whispered, ashamed that my word came out sounding more like a very ecstatic moan.
“What’s that?” He gave my bottom a light smack right where his hand lingered, above my pussy, almost touching my lips. “I didn’t hear your answer. Are you ready to be a good girl?” I felt him lay his hand there again, not moving.
Was there a right or wrong answer to his question? Did ‘please touch my throbbing, wet pussy’ qualify as an answer? Was he messing with me? Would saying ‘no’ lead to what I really wanted?
Mr. Murphy smacked me again. This time my moan was loud and high-pitched. He laid his hand in the same spot, gently. “I said, are you ready to be a good girl? Or do I need to give you another spanking?”
I had to take a deep breath to get enough air to speak. “I’ll be a good girl.”
“Okay.” He massaged my ass just a little longer, then helped me stand. My wetness flowed like a torrent down my inner thighs as soon as my feet hit the floor.
Mr. Murphy helped me stable myself as I stood at his side, looking down at him sitting in his chair. I wanted him so fucking bad, and I knew it was wrong. Mrs. Murphy’s face appeared for just a split second like a vision inside my head. If I couldn’t have him, I’d need to go back to Trish’s bed to do something about it. My pussy ached for some touching, and if I didn’t get it soon, I’d have a brand new reason to cry.
Our eyes locked. He reached behind me and fondled my sore bottom. This time, I swore there was a desperation in his gaze that matched my own.
If he was willing to go for it, why should I stop him? I’d never tell his wife. It could be a one-time thing, and nothing more. It wouldn’t even require much time. He could be in back in bed beside her in minutes.
Tears were still flowing and I needed to wipe my face. In an effort to both dry my face and entice Mr. Murphy, I picked up the bottom of my gown with both hands and pulled it up to my cheeks, fully exposing my front, making sure to jut my chest forward. I took my time, patting my face dry. To my surprise, he kept massaging my bottom, even running his fingers along my inner thighs where there was no mistaking my level of arousal.
I took my fingers off the gown and let it float back down to my waist. Mr. Murphy grinned at me.
For a split second I thought about Trish, and how weird she’d feel if she knew I had shared this moment with her dad. But that thought quickly passed. My infatuation with her dad transcended our friendship. This moment was something I’d look back on with regret, knowing that maybe I could have taken advantage of an opportunity that would have long since been forgotten. I had no desire to be his mistress. I just wanted him to get me off.
“Samantha,” he whispered, kneading my tender behind.
“Yeah?”
“Let me see your tits again.”
I immediately reached
down to my hem and pulled my nightgown up over my head, tossing it to the floor. I put my hands on my waist and stood there at his thigh, naked and confident. “As you wish.”
Mr. Murphy’s mouth hung slightly open at first. As he gawked at my breasts I saw him grit his teeth, then I heard him breathe like he was fighting for air. His eyes were fixed on my breasts, but he stopped rubbing my butt. Starting at my knee, he slid his hand up my thighs until he touched my pussy.
Samantha Gets Spanked Page 4
