French Lessons

by Georgia Harries

  “I’d be very pleased for Eleanor to see some more of this wonderful country in your company, boy. Mind you, that would be for her to decide. Assuming you can sit for that long a drive, sweetheart?” Harry chuckled.

  As the thought of a whole day alone with Charlie thrilled her heart, Eleanor blushed. “Oh Daddy!”

  It was almost midnight when Charlie left the motor–yacht, with the promise to be back for Eleanor in the morning. The Walkers repaired to the deckhouse alone. Reclining, Harry held his beautiful wife in his arms. Together they looked up at the stars studding the skies like diamonds on dark velvet. Far up on the hill, the lilting strains of accordion music could be heard. The breeze had got up, and the Eleanor–Jane rocked steadily in the haven of the bay. Tamara snuggled into her husband’s chest.

  “You were so right, my darling,” she murmured. “Eleanor is completely changed.”

  “Didn’t I say as much? A good bottom warming was all it was ever going to take. Best remedy for difficult girls.”

  “No matter how old they are...?” she gazed up at him, in teasing tones.

  “Whatever do you mean?” Harry was intrigued.

  Tamara blushed and rubbed her hand against his shirt. With that, Harry sat up on his side and turned her on to her back. Cradling her, he kissed her long and deep. Their tongues danced and Tamara’s heart raced. She felt more brave and eager than ever. Would it be safe to, right here under the stars?

  “Are you telling me Mrs. Walker, that you too have been a naughty girl?”

  Harry’s voice was low and soft in her ear, as he bit and kissed her neck gently.

  Tamara felt butterflies in her tummy. Harry’s lovemaking instincts had always been just perfect. It seemed that now too, her latest daring desires did not elude him. She murmured a yes, and slid his hand down underneath her to cup her bottom. Still they kissed deeply, sensually. He rubbed her bottom firmly and his mouth wandered to her ear once more.

  “Well I should tell you dearest, that old–fashioned methods of discipline are not reserved purely for my daughter.” Harry breathed hot on her neck in a flurry of urgent kisses, while grasping her bottom harder.

  Thrilled by the turn their foreplay was taking, Tamara grew more and more turned on. She moved her face to meet his eyes. She was determined to make this wonderful moment between them, last.

  “Whatever are you talking about, husband?”

  “I mean.... that if you choose to disobey me and be a bad girl, you will be given a very sore bottom all of your own.”

  Tamara felt her nipples sensitise as his tongue probed deeper in her mouth. His hand then wandered to the waistband of her tight black silk pencil skirt.

  “Oh Harry....” she murmured. She wondered in all honesty if they could wait to get to their cabin.

  “You had better believe it, Tamara. Step out of line and you’ll be right over my knee before you know it. And I don’t leave a girl the option of keeping her knickers on. One word of defiance and it’ll be my hand hard across your sweet, gorgeous bare bottom till it’s hot as hell itself. You just wait and see.” Harry himself was astounded by the words coming from his mouth. But it all seemed so natural and safe.

  Tamara felt herself grow damp between her legs. She thrilled to the very thought. He had bought into it as much as she had. She hadn’t had a Daddy like Harry, but maybe now he would even make up for all of that, too.

  “In fact,” he continued, his strong voice a loving, comforting drawl, “I rather believe these panties need to be taken down right this very minute.”

  Tamara giggled quietly and let herself go. Firmly, lovingly, he pulled her dark purple panties down under her skirt. She was wet and moaning already.

  “Harry...” she whispered, as she felt the fingers of his right hand probe her damp slit. His left hand continued to caress her bottom cheek, light as feathers.

  “Oh Harry ... I do so want to be a very, very bad girl....” Tamara grew ferocious with desire. Harry’s fingers worked her up to a hot wetness. It was a searing need she had never felt before. He looked at her intensely, stilled by her frankest confession.

  “Really?”

  “Yes,” she slid to her side to lie square on with him. Fired with confidence, she grabbed his hand and placed it firmly on her left buttock.

  Tamara wriggled herself free from her panties in desperation. She turned her back to Harry and snuggled spoon–like into him. His hand caressed her bottom roughly as his tongue played with her neck and ears, muttering filthy promises in the dark still night. His strong, large hand played with each buttock in turn. Then moving slightly away from her, for the first time ever, he smacked Tamara’s bottom. Hard and crisp, his palm met one buttock then the other. Tamara gasped and winced slightly, then bent herself further double and offered her neat bottom up towards him for more. There were half a dozen more smacks, the sounds echoing in the night winds, neither of them caring too much who might hear. The final sore smack was accompanied by a quietly but firmly spoken threat. A threat of what Tamara prayed would happen yet tonight in their cabin below. With his hand clasped to his wife’s warm buttock, he spoke out loud.

  “You have been the naughtiest girl imaginable. It’s high time you went over my knee for a bare bottomed spanking you will never forget, young lady.”

  Tamara closed her eyes and allowed the warmest fluttering orgasm to fill her belly. Turning to face her husband, her face flushed and beaded with sweat, she gave him a shy smile. Harry was enraptured as never before.

  “So my naughty little one,” he chided gently. “Reckon you might need some more? Your lovely bottom doesn’t feel quite hot enough to me...” he stroked it gently.

  Shaking a little, Tamara rose to rest on her elbow. She was still quivering from the contractions of pleasure.

  “I need you to spank me, Harry. I’ve never had it before. I want you to show me. Let me feel your love and your hand. Over your knee. Will you please?”

  Harry smiled slowly. Of all things he had not anticipated on this truly memorable holiday, this was surely the most surprising.

  It was a fantasy Tamara had not even realised she harboured, now coming closer to reality. Harry grinned. How wonderful that she felt so safe and loved by him, she could share these inner needs.

  “Well, I reckon it’s no less than you deserve, Tamara Kelly–Walker. After your disgraceful behaviour right out here on top deck. Anyone could have caught us, you dirty little minx.” Harry whispered loudly as his tongue dug sharp in her ear. “There’s only way to deal with naughty little girls. You’ve asked for it. You’re going over my knee for a spanking that’ll burn your backside raw. No arguments.”

  “Oh yes please, Harry! I’ve been so very bad...” Tamara murmured, smiling. Her heart still beating fast from the orgasm, she cupped his face in her hands and stared into his eyes. “I think it’s my turn to be sent to your bureau. Don’t you?”

  Pulling her tight into him, Harry reached behind and gripped each cheek of her bare bottom hard. Her skirt was raised to her waist and she curled a leg up and over his thigh. They allowed each other one more lingering kiss, before Harry drew away roughly with a broad grin.

  “You have one minute to get yourself below deck and to my bureau. Since you have no panties on, you naughty girl, you will stand in the corner and lift your skirt up ready for me. I’ll be down there shortly and we can deal with your punishment. If you don’t do exactly as I say, you’ll be feeling something an awful lot harder than my hand across your beautiful bottom. Perfect it might be, but maybe it needs a touch of leather to correct your unseemly behaviour...”

  With a delicious thrill of elation, Tamara got up from the sofa. Her skirt slid elegantly to her knees. The dampness between her legs made her feel calm and relaxed all over. Without another word, she turned and descended slowly to lower deck. To let a whole new chapter of her marriage, begin in earnest. Retrieving her panties from the floor, Harry fondled them, relishing the very thought of what the remainder of this nig
ht might bring.

  Oblivious in her cabin as Tamara walked swiftly past it, Eleanor lay on her side reading a romantic novel. Outside, the wind was really getting up. It was the beginning of a summer night–storm. The sea was choppy and the yacht’s mast swayed heavily in the moonlight, as clouds raced by. Eleanor loved it when the weather turned wilder in Monaco bay, watching it stir the waters from the cosiness of her cabin. Her hand drifted occasionally inside her pink pyjamas to her bottom, tingling a little less by the minute. She could barely wait for tomorrow, to see Charlie again. Over and over again, she thought long about the brisk spanking he had given her. That wonderful woozy feeling of helplessness she had felt, lying helpless and trapped across his lap. And then the sensational feeling of safety and desire she had felt sitting up on his knee, their mouths locked and their tongues touching. What she really wanted was to feel his hand punish her down there, with nothing between his hard palm and her soft skin. Smiling, she cuddled her silky pillow and concentrated on the faint throb in her bottom. Never again did Eleanor want to risk Daddy’s wrath with a spanking. But Charlie, she decided, could take her over his knee whenever he liked.

  In his penthouse suite high above the harbour, Charlie gazed down to the yacht. The water was starting to simmer as the stiff Mediterranean winds got up. A storm would be a thrill to watch from this height. What a perfect end to the day after all. Charlie too was planning tomorrow. Having spanked Eleanor and then comforted her, he knew he had made her his own. He tried to foresee Eleanor’s reaction when he would without doubt in the near future, pull down her knickers for the task. Such an intimacy would bind them for good, he reckoned. He could just make out Harry wander below deck behind Tamara, as though they were playing chase. It was clear to all who saw them that they were meant for one another. With all his heart, Charlie hoped the same were true for him and Eleanor.

  The porthole from Eleanor’s cabin glowed with soft lamplight. He pictured her, the little blonde beauty that she was. As the storm continued to brew, he knew she was safe – though very warm bottomed – and firmly taught the loving lessons that would stand them all in the finest stead.

  He lit a cigarette and leaned out over the balcony, feeling the strong winds in his face as heavy drops of rain began to fall. The full moon shone like a child’s drawing over Monaco bay. Dark grey clouds skirted over it, breaking its beams of light on the water.

  Charlie had never felt so content. It seemed as though he and Harry Walker had each found the right women for their hearts and souls. Had he been anywhere near the port side of the lower deck of the Eleanor–Jane at that very moment, he might have been even more convinced. From Harry Walker’s bureau, Charlie Hetherington might have heard long minutes of sharp rhythmic slapping sounds, punctuated by soft, throaty female gasps and stern male scoldings. Leaving no doubt that each man had also found just the right woman for the palm of his hand.

  The End.

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  This book is intended for adults only. Spanking and other sexual activities represented in this book are fantasies only, intended for adults. Nothing in this book should be interpreted as advocating any non-consensual spanking activity or the spanking of minors.

  Table of Contents

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight