short stories – Page 2 – Spank Me Hard! … Please?

The Bumhampton Chronicles: Chapter 2 (Part 7)

September 26, 2016lurvspankingLeave a comment

“Mrs. Cleanknockers is an artist with the stick,” m’lord said with approval. He squeezed firmly. I was determined to take my punishment in silence. I learned something that day: the male fingers are nothing like the female touch. The leather strap lay cool and slick on my bare hindquarters. The first blow is always a shock. The sharp snap rings in your ears. The bite on your flesh stings, there is a delayed reaction as the mind tries to reconcile sound and burning sensation. The second blow compounds the confusion. The third and the fourth: you hiss. “Lift up Ruby.”

This link goes to The Bumhampton Chronicles category so you can catch up at any time.

The Bumhampton Chronicles: Chapter 2 (Part 5)

September 24, 2016lurvspanking14 Comments

I gulped back sobs as His Lordship shut the wardrobe. “I was going to strap you later after you’ve dusted, but based on your hysterical overwrought theatrics you’ve now earned twice daily discipline for the next week.” He touched my tear stained cheeks and smiled affectionately. “You are not going to be ‘sold’ you silly chit: all my girls are offered the opportunity of marriage to established men of the mercantile class. We will train you in the social and amorous arts and provide you with ample funds. Now! Bend over my desk Ruby and prepare to be soundly strapped.”

This link goes to The Bumhampton Chronicles category so you can catch up at any time.

The Bumhampton Chronicles: Chapter 2 (Part 4)

September 23, 2016September 23, 2016lurvspanking12 Comments

Through thick fringe I covertly watched as m’lord rose and walked to a tall wardrobe. The doors were swung open and he pulled a tray outwards. I saw hundreds if not thousands of vertical folders in varying thicknesses. “Ruby, luscious Ruby,” m’lord muttered softly and placed my fate into a vacant slot. “Please m’lord,” I beseeched, “I’ll do whatever you say, but don’t sell me to a brothel!” M’lord spun around. “What on earth?” His mouth gaped. “I heard Mrs. Cleanknockers sir!” I could not prevent the tears. “Ruby! Cease your caterwauling at once! This is not a Penny Dreadful!”

This link goes to The Bumhampton Chronicles category so you can catch up at any time.

Daddy’s Playboy March 1965

September 22, 2016lurvspanking11 Comments

A drabble of exactly 100 words.

Monthly Friday Flash based on the picture below

“What’s that honey?”

“It’s Daddy’s Playboy from March 1965. The issue when I learned I was attracted to women… and when you spanked me for stealing and sneaking into your bedroom.”

“I remember now. You were one unhappy young lady for the next month.”

“I never could decide which was worse; your hairbrush or his belt.”

“Are you ready to get your wife?”

“In a minute. I want to add the magazine.”

Mother and daughter closed the door leaving behind a Purple Heart, a Silver Star, the Playboy and a beloved father and husband in his satin lined oak coffin.

The Bumhampton Chronicles: Chapter 2 (Part 3)

September 19, 2016September 21, 2016lurvspanking5 Comments

Mrs. Cleanknockers handed over a thin folder. “Ruby’s intake m’lord.” She paused. “If I may be so bold m’lord, I believe that she would suit Mr. Jones-Smyth admirably.” I felt Lord Caneshard’s intense scrutiny on my bowed skull. “You state she’s untutored.” My mind raced in panic: had I been deceived? Had I fallen into the evil and depraved clutches of White Slavers? “Untutored yes m’lord, but very responsive.” I felt Mrs. Cleanknockers gloved hand raise my frightened chin. “Obey His Lordship Ruby and you will prosper.” She pressed her moist lips firmly to mine and swept out the door.

This link goes to The Bumhampton Chronicles category so you can catch up at any time.

The Bumhampton Chronicles: Chapter 2 (Part 2)

September 18, 2016September 21, 2016lurvspanking11 Comments

The dark oak walls were lined with stuffed animals heads and stuffier ancestral portraits. I giggled nervously as naughty thoughts of mounted Lords filled my mind. My mirth was doused by the stern glare I received from Mrs. Cleanknockers. “This is the Gun Room Ruby,” said icily, “where you will be trained and chastised.” We passed by the locked door. There was no sign that stated ‘Abandon all hope’ but it was implied in her tone. She knocked on m’lord’s office and we entered. “Ruby sir.” I curtsied and when prodded, approached the desk. “You’ve been willful I understand. Excellent!”

This link goes to The Bumhampton Chronicles category so you can catch up at any time.

The Bumhampton Chronicles: Chapter 2 (Part 1)

September 17, 2016September 21, 2016lurvspanking8 Comments

Dressed in my new black and white uniform, Mrs. Cleanknockers led me to the kitchen, introduced Cook, and fed me lunch with the downstairs staff. As the new girl the maids and footmen scrutinized me closely for signs of moral failure. Clearly I was not welcome and the slights were not long in manifesting. I ate my meal in silence while Mrs. Cleanknockers grilled her underlings and assigned the afternoon roster. I was exempt: I had an appointment with Lord Caneshard. The sly grins and elbows did not go unnoticed. “Emily and Louisa. Report to the Gun Room at 2.”

Due to a personal request, I’m looking at you Missy, the Bumhampton Chronicles will continue. However, I will write the story as a drabble – 100 words – at a time and will be posted several times a week.

This link goes to The Bumhampton Chronicles category so you can catch up at any time.

The Bumhampton Chronicles: Chapter 1

September 15, 2016January 17, 2017lurvspanking23 Comments

A tribute to the great Victorian Age of Erotica, where orifices were plundered and bottoms were whacked. I now present the following account for your prurient pleasure. Please note at 3,500 words it is fairly long but I didn’t want to split it in two parts. I am the original author posted elsewhere 3/8/08

“The Bumhampton Chronicles”

There was an old man in the cottage at the end of the lane on every day at 2:30 in the afternoon took his curly-coated black terrier for a walk. Quartz gravel crunched softly beneath his booted feet. Dressed in a corduroy jacket with worn leather patches, rain or shine the gentle thud of his cane echoes between the hedgerows.

He goes to the pub for a pint and then the post office to mail a letter. After, he crosses the road and reads the real estate listings. He buys a loaf of bread at the grocers and then returns home where he opens a tin of sardines and pours a glass of red wine. If you ask the villagers, who amongst them is eccentric they will point at the old man in the cottage at the end of the lane.

Look at him shuffling along. Sad isn’t it? To think of whom he once was. You mean you don’t know who that is? That, my friends was his Lordship. Yes, a real Lord: with a title and everything! The Venerable Lord Caneshard the Omnipresent of Lower Bumhampton. A silly title you must agree, but it suited him. Now look at him; talking with his dog, posting a letter everyday with another true episode of his memoirs. Problem is, no one believes him the poor sod. They all think he’s gone around the bend. I’ll tell you a secret though. Every word is true.

Don’t roll your eyes at me, I’m telling you this because I know the truth. Who am I? My name is Slapumcheeks; but my friends call me Ruby. I should know about His Lordship, because I was on the receiving end many times of his particular method of motivation. You see Lord Caneshard strongly believed that young ladies of a certain class needed regular exercise and discipline in order not to fall in with the wrong crowd. That’s right, spanking, caning, whipping, strapping; my poor sore bottom was thoroughly chastised on many an occasion. I’ll never forget the first time I laid eyes on Lord Caneshard ………

“Your Lordship?”
“Yes, what is it?”
“Your nine o’clock appointment is here sir.”
“Thank you, Miss Frothinglips. Show her in.”

I walked into a large, illuminated study, shelves upon shelves of books lining both sidewalls. I must have looked a fright, gawking like a provincial rube, but I’d never seen so many books before in my life. I could read, after a fashion, but I was feeling out of place in this luxurious manor. His Lordship had stood up when I entered the room, and I started when I realized he was staring at me. I blushed and dropped a fumbling curtsy.

“Your Lordship.”

He nodded at me, and motioned towards a leather wingback to the left of his magnificent desk. I sat down, and nervously clasped my hands in my lap.

“I believe you have something for me?”

I reached into by reticule and pulled out a sealed letter from my previous employer. I made to get up, but he bade me stay seated and came around his desk to receive the missive. Perching on one corner, he cracked the seal and proceeded to read the contents. I covertly studied him as he perused my life’s work. He was short, maybe 5′ 6′, with reddish hair and a mustache. His clothes were of the finest cut and gems sparkled in his waistband. He finished reading, and setting down the papers, reached down and lifted my chin in his calloused hand.

“How old are you child?”
“I’m 18 and three quarters sir.”
“You have very fine credentials, Mrs. Allechat speaks quite glowingly of your morals and ethics.”
“I try sir.”
“Yes, well we shall see about that. I must say though, there is no mention of instances of discipline listed. Were you not punished ever?”

I do realize that in these enlightened times corporal punishment is frowned upon. However, in our time, a spanking was considered normal and nothing to froth on about. I explained to His Lordship, that I was occasionally smacked, but never more than once a month. He frowned at that, and muttered that perhaps I was not suited for this position after all. I swallowed hard, and asked in a meek voice what would I be expected to endure.

“All my girls are thrashed at least once a week, and with new girls, I always break them in with daily, if not twice daily discipline.”

The shock must have shown on my face. I certainly felt light headed. Never in my wildest dreams, could I have envisioned that at 18 and three quarters years of age, I would fall into the clutches of a upright man such as this. I was ecstatic, but I managed to remain calm.

“My apologies Your Lordship, I did not understand the requirements of the position. Perhaps, it would be best if I left.”
“Nonsense girl. It is my duty as the Lord of the Manor to provide both discipline and a healthy, happy work environment.”
“I….”
“Besides, where else were you planning to go?”

He was right of course. As an orphan, my prospects were bleak; this was the 10th interview I had been to, but this was this first job that I was interested in enough to commit my bottom too. I did not want to wind up out on the streets selling my virtue for pennies.

“Very well, sir. Is there anything else I need to be aware of?”
“There is a rigorous and cleansing examination before you are officially hired. Need to make sure you are flexible to do the proper job. Stand up please.”

I stood up in front of the chair.

“Stand up straight girl! I expect all my girls to be willing and able to whatever it takes to satisfy his Lordship. No milquetoasts on my watch! Hrumph!!! You are nicely built, sweet face; let me see the rear view. Ah!!!! Excellent form. I say, good show.”

*smack* *smack* The quick spanks on my bottom caught me by surprise.

“Yes girl, your backside will get quite the workout with my strap. I am looking forward to your working for me. So, are ye interested in the post? It comes with room and board, 10 pounds a week with one day a week off plus regular and rigorous discipline. Speak up lass, now’s not the time to be shy.”

I of course, said yes; and thus began a most educational journey into the lives of masters and servants and men and woman. Would you like to hear more?

Peacock House was a trim country manor. His Lordship ruled over miles in all directions, including the little village of Lower Bumhampton. I was guided by another servant, Anna, and made my way to the rear of the manor and the servant’s quarters where I was met with the very severe and formidable Mrs. Cleanknockers. She pursed her lips and glared at me. I lowered my gaze demurely and spoke of His Lordship’s desire to have me cleansed and examined.

“Well, I determine who is allowed to stay at the manor miss, and you can be sure that when I am done with you, your very innards will squeak.”

I must interject here; I was in fact, quite naive. I was raised in the city, and thus had no congress with young men, other than the uncouth tradesman and street urchins. My mama, when she was still alive, God rest her soul, was not one to explain the bodily functions. I bathed once a week, as was normal; that is until I started employment. Truth was, at that age I was very shy and private. Had I only known…

“Stand over here Miss, against the wall.”

She measured my height, and used a scale to find my weight. Her hands roamed freely over my covered limbs, and she bent me forward and back in all directions. I was dizzy, and the pins in my black hair had come loose, causing a cascade down my back.

“Very well, you will now disrobe. If you pass muster, then all your clothes will be provided for you.”
“Disrobe?”
“Are you disobeying me already miss?”
“No ma’am, but there is no screen.”
“Child, privacy is not a concern at this place. Disrobe or leave.”

What choice did I have? I must admit to tears as I undid my buttons on my floor length frock, and handed it over to her waiting arms. My chemise was next, and as I did not wear undergarments, I was soon naked and shivering as I cowered under her stern gaze.

“Stand up straight! Thrust your chest out!”

Two quick strikes, one on each bottom cheek, and I was stiff and rigid as a Guardsman at attention. Thus began the examination; Mrs. Cleanknockers ran her fingers through my hair, probing my skull. She checked my ears, my eyes; her fingers entered my mouth and gently massaged my teeth. Her roved lower, always lower until my breasts lay in her strong palms. She squeezed, like a melon, checking for soft spots, and then, and then. Oh my, I thought as she plucked and rolled my stiff nipples. Hard points, in and out, stretching: I cried out as she tormented my flesh.

“Good response. You like pain, I can tell.”
“No Ma’am, it hurts.”
“Little liar. M’Lord will soon enough cure you of that trait.”

Continuing now, she loosed my red and inflamed bosom and seized both arms and once more checked my flexibility. My hands, and nails did not pass muster, but she merely murmured ‘later’. My torso was next, then, she spun me around and pushed her thumbs hard into my shoulders and down my spine. I was just a puppet in her capable hands and I began to sense something stirring in my unmentionable areas. My lower extremities did not go unnoticed, but I was bade sit on a towel that rested on a stone counter, next to a sink and a floor drain. I tried, I tried still to be modest, but after massaging my sore feet and calves, she ran her hands up my thighs and patted them. Her intent was clear, she wished me to spread them wide.

“Please? No?”

She walked away without a word and opened a cupboard. Returning with a stiff riding crop: tap, tap, she touched my thighs once more, but I just shook my head and wept in shame. Thus began my first whipping, but by no means my last, at Peacock House. At the time, I screamed with the pain, it was so severe; what did I know, I was an innocent. In truth, she was very careful, and struck with just sufficient force, repeated blows raining down on my upper thighs. How many? I do not know, but when I looked down expecting to see blood, all there was, was a pinkish hue to my skin. I looked up through the film of my tears, and nodded. She stopped at once, and then tapped me with her hands once more. This time, I spread my legs as wide as I could while she poked and prodded my inner thighs.

“Lay back, and raise your knees to your chest; grasp them firmly with your hands, and keep them wide spread for me.”

The screeching of wooden legs on the stone floor grated on my nerves as she positioned a stool in front of my feminine opening.

“Are you still a virgin?”
“Yes,” I replied with some vigor. “I am a proper girl!”
“I shall soon find out if you are telling the truth.”

Thus now, the examination portion was drawing to a close, and the cleansing portion soon to commence. But first, I felt a stranger’s touch on me. Down there: the place of bleeding shame and pain. What possible connection could still being a virgin have to do with my monthlies? Once more, those strange feelings swirled in my tummy as several fingers rubbed me down there, up and down. I thought I heard faint squishing noises, but then all else fled as a slender digit entered my body! My back arched, and I squealed as she manipulated me and probed deeper and deeper.

“Ah, you are intact, excellent. You will be quite the prize filly for some lucky man. Move your bottom over the edge, keep pulling back. Further, further.”

By now, my knees were pressing against my chest and just when I believed that my ordeal was over, another shock. A greased finger slid abruptly up my fundament! I do not have to explain the shame I felt being treated this way, yet, yet; a part reveled in this treatment of me. I realized that Mrs. Cleanknockers was not being cruel, but that she was in fact quite efficient at her job. She then slid a second finger in my nether hole, whilst returning yet again to my womanly opening. I could feel, oh I could feel her fingers touching inside of me through both holes and my body began to rock ever so slightly. I gave myself over to the rush of new sensations and closed my eyes.

I was climbing. I was soaring as Mrs. Cleanknockers’ wicked manipulation had caused all sense of propriety to flee. My hips, my bottom, my cunny; all had betrayed me, and they all worked in consort with her fingers and thumbs. Then, all thought faded as she touched a certain spot that flared like a torch and the heat engulfed my blood. I know that I shrieked then, but even as I prayed to God for His forgiveness and mercy, my lower holes thrust harder and harder upon her hot flesh. So this is lewdness I marveled, and I sinned willingly and cast my soul into the flames of Hell.

Just like that; I would have wept, but I cared not. Something was happening, something that my body knew well, but that I did not. She rode me hard, did Lust. Lust whipped my flanks and she drove me ever onwards with biting spurs as she caused rivulets of secretions to pour from all my orifices. The ground fell away abruptly as I had a fit, and my muscles locked in rigid display. Dangling in air, I fell. I fell hard, and a sound issued from my throat. I can only describe what happened that first time, as the sound of a thousand crystal goblets shattering on a marbled ballroom floor.

My senses slowly returned and I discovered myself being cradled in Mrs. Cleanknockers arms, her cleaned hands brushing my hair.

“Your first spending?”
“I’ve never… What was that? What happened to me?”

She laughed then, a silvery tinkle, which brought to mind skylarks in spring display. Not unkindly, she kissed me lightly on my trembling lips and squeezed me tight.

“You’re a precious jewel, sweet Ruby. We will have such a time together. You will learn, and be well rewarded for your efforts.”

So saying, she eased me down off the counter and led me to a small antechamber. My cleansing was nearly at hand, but this, I knew well; though to my fevered mind, all the apparatus appeared sinister and foreboding. Hanging on steel hooks, implements of correction covered one entire wall: canes, straps, paddles and many others. If the purpose of this display was to intimidate, it succeeded, for I fairly leapt onto the padded table and assumed the prone position on my belly.

Miss Cleanknockers busied herself at the sink, mixing and filling several bags, four in all. I waited, and watched, if not serenely, at least resigned to my fate at last. Lavender and sage, the tang of mineral oil wafted across my nose as my face lay resting on the sheet. Finished with her preparations, she approached my upturned bottom cheeks and gently spread them wide exposing my quivering anus. Her forefinger once again penetrated my inner recesses and twirled, lubricating the dark and humid corridor. She reached back, and pulled the pump closer and pressed the nozzle firmly in. One thrust, slow but sure. It was enormous, much larger than anything I’d ever felt before. My hands clenched the fabric on which I knelt, as a high-pitched mewling noise issued from between taut lips.

“Are you hurt?”
“No miss, it is very large though, and so deep!”
“Not as large or deep as the real thing will be my dear.”

Fully plugged, I arched my back and presented: raising my hips ever higher, desperate to ease the fullness. She released the stop, and warm soapy water, in a relentless flood, invaded my bowels. Perhaps to modern sensibilities, this seemed obscene, but back then, regular purging were prescribed for all types of ill humors. I could not even tell you how many I had endured already in my life, but this treatment at least I thought I could pass with flying colors. And I did, if a red striped bottom indicates success.

Gentle Reader, if you have never undergone a full course of enemas then you cannot truly know the urgency with which the urge to expel strikes the laboring bowels. I had learned much control, though of still tender years, and I tried to impress Mrs. Cleanknockers with my stoicism. The first bag was emptied, and she reached under my torso and rubbed my slightly protruding stomach. At least a quarter of an hour passed as the solution churned and sloshed in my innards until at last, she brought over a large basin and directed me squat directly over while she removed the nozzle. I did my business, with the minimal of fuss; closing my senses to the sounds and smells. She wiped back there, and removed the basin to the adjacent water closet. She was gone so long I wondered perhaps she was divining my future, like a gypsy reading tea leaves. I giggled to myself as I once more clambered onto the table.

The second and third courses went much the same, the third being an herbal concoction that smelled heavenly and felt even better. She allowed me use of the WC for that expulsion and I was actually smiling when I returned. That faded as I spied the last bag. A full gallon, with a nozzle twice the girth of what had been used before and shaped with a queer bulbous head. I did not protest, but meekly followed her directions as she had me lay facing her on my side, with the top leg drawn up to my chest. To my shock and amazement, the fearsome weapon slid in with ease, and Mrs. Cleanknockers spent many minutes gliding the probe in and out of my clenching rosebud, until thrusting it home to the root. This bag was plain water with extract of peppermint, and as it gurgled in, I could feel a burning sensation moving slowly higher and higher until it reached my tummy. She took my hands and laid them on my slowly inflating stomach.

“Just think Ruby, this is what you will feel like when you are with child and ready to birth.”
“I’ll birth through my arse?”

She merrily laughed again at me, but I was truly vexed.

“I am so sorry that my innocence and ignorance amuses you. I am just a simple girl with no prospects, except to be abused for the rest of my life.”

She said nothing, but I sensed an immediate chill in the room as she monitored the last drops. I heard a crinkling noise, and then as she withdrew the flared nozzle, she replaced it with what felt like a cork that went but a short distance within, but blocked all egress of the liquid. I sat up and looked down, ashamed of my outburst, although it was all true to my nature.

“Miss Slapumcheeks, you will stand up and walk to the far wall and choose an implement of chastisement. Then return and bend over the table.”

I didn’t walk, I waddled and as I gazed upon the multitude of items hanging there, my eyes were drawn to a long, thick cane. I handed the cane to her, bent over and waited.

“You…” WHAP “are…” WHAP “not…” WHAP “ignorant…” WHAP

“You…” WHAP “are…” WHAP “simply…” WHAP “untutored…” WHAP

She drove her lesson home, with three more quick strikes on the tops of my thighs and I gasped as the welts stung my entire bottom in regular stripes that rose like puffed pastry. She spun me around to face her and inserting the tip of the cane between my legs, lightly tapped at my still wet sex.

“This virginal opening is where a man will plant his seed, and your womb is where your babe will grow. You will birth through this selfsame opening nine months later. All of this knowledge will be given to you, and much more. You, dear Ruby, will have a chance that few other girls will ever see. A chance to be an independent woman of means.”

Purchase Lust in Lace on Amazon Kindle. Click picture to go to Amazon.

Spanking by mail order

August 28, 2016August 28, 2016lurvspanking3 Comments

Originally posted in 2009 here on Lurv Spanking, deleted and rewritten for Fantasy Friday at New Beginnings cross-posted on 8/19/2016. Thanks PK.

Lucretia Sinclair was an old maid. At two and thirty, she was a confirmed spinster. Tired of her family’s cruel rejoinders, she’d gone west seeking her manifest destiny. She found instead, the loss of her maidenhead and the serenity of over the knee.

She alighted from the 3:45 from Denver. Stark landscape, muted pastels and strong earth shades all pummeled by the soaring turquoise sky. Waiting for her was Mrs. Parker, widowed some twenty years, swathed in black silk befitting her station as matriarch of Juniper Falls. Lucretia had responded to an advert by post seeking ‘never married woman of quality desired for bride to wealthy gentleman’. The correspondence escalated rapidly, more so when the telegraph link was completed to Juniper Falls. Mrs. Parker set a stern example through her terse missives. Lucretia could hear the sniff in her words, the distaste of East Coast debutantes living off stolen largesse and western gold. Still, she came. Dressed in muted poplin, traveling days by train across the breadth of a dazzling country, Lucretia left her unexciting past behind.

Erect carriage, she stared into the distant future as Mrs. Parker perused her as carefully as any prized range horse. More so, because a horse could be put down, a woman of loose morals was more destructive than any ravening locust horde. Passing inspection, Lucretia lifted her satchel, porter behind with the rest of her worldly goods and followed in the tremendous wake of Mrs. Parker. Hats tipped, heads bowed, she parted the dusty and dung smeared street as if brandishing a cannon. Determined not to be cowed, Lucretia was nonetheless impressed by the display of personal power rivaling any Astor. Juniper Falls may have been small by eastern standards, but it was run not by the drunk sheriff or corrupt mine owners, but by a woman of a certain age with unsmiling countenance. In her letter home that night to her younger sister, Lucretia was hard pressed to explain the atmosphere in the town. The best she could say was:

‘It, the town sweet Margaret, seems placid and serene. Not bustling as New York, yet, an air of smugness all emanating from a short female form. No gentle sex I fear from Mrs. Parker. She wields a stern hand I am told, perhaps, dare I say, even harder than dear Papa. In closing my beloved, I have chosen to stay and face the future unafraid of my place, though it may be over a knee. You may write me at this address. Mrs. Parker is providing room and board in her mansion until I marry. Nothing on 5th Avenue I’m afraid, but passable. I am to meet the gentleman on the morrow so must now retire. Yours, Lucretia’

With the sun, the house too rose. Lucretia was prompt for breakfast. The food was welcome after the long journey: the company marginally less so. Not for Mrs. Parker a mixed table. Only the finest ladies were ensconced in her home. The oldest was a dowager visiting from San Francisco with the youngest being her niece barely out of finishing school. A blue stocking would have felt right at home except… there was a sense of mystery, of hidden vices lurking behind the facade of propriety. Lucretia was polite when spoken to and kept her replies and curiosity firmly in check. Finishing her meal, requesting to be excused, she retired above stairs to complete her toilette and met Mrs. Parker in the parlor precisely at eight. She refrained from flinching when the taskmaster ran a clothes sweeper over her plain dress. Satisfied at last, she sallied forth, Lucretia bobbing dutifully one step behind.

High collar, purple cravat, and diamond stickpin did not catch her attention so much as the wide leather belt wrapped round his trim waist in deference to Western ideals. Mrs. Parker introduced them, until now, Lucretia had not known the name of her suitor. She curtsied to Mr. Mallory and he curtly bowed his head in response. The conversation was brief and fairly one-sided as, watched keenly by their chaperone, he dictated Sunday’s schedule at the Methodist church three days hence, Lucretia limiting her responses to ‘yes sir’ and thank you’. As she rose to take her leave with Mrs. Parker, he courteously gestured for Lucretia to open an oak tallboy. Inside the door were a variety of straps and paddles hanging from gleaming brass hooks. As she fondled the heavy oiled and polished objects de correction, she barely heard his admonishment that her behavior would be monitored closely and subjected to regular discipline should she fail to meet his expectations. She blushed and demurely replied, as sudden heat arose in her nether regions, she’d do her best to please him. He roughly cleared his throat, the cravat suddenly as tight as his trousers as he gruffly instructed her to select a tool for her exclusive use. It was, he explained, her bridal gift and likely to see daily rigorous use. She was instructed to have it modified with an engraved silver plaque, her name in copperplate script, to be exchanged at the altar for his ring.

He raised her hand to his lips saying he had high standards for a wife and woe betide she who fell short. Far from being cowed, Lucretia boldly met his dark eyes as she curtsied deeply, tipping her bosom forward stating she was not some Eastern shrinking violet who shirked at hard work and harder discipline. Well read, less so in the amorous arts, Lucretia was not completely naive, yet no man had ever so dominated her emotions and mind as Mr. Mallory. She’d been informed in stark terms the fate of the late Mrs. Mallory and whatever gossip existed in Juniper Falls was yet to be revealed to her tender ears. Under Mrs. Parker’s stern visage, Lucretia calmly passed the thick leather strap to the hulking blacksmith. As they watched, he pressed copper rivets through a rectangular silver plate across the breadth of the implement. Receiving it back with strict decorum, she cradled the strap tenderly as an infant and stately followed in Mrs. Parker’s formidable wake to the jeweler, where the leather was reverently delivered for engraving.

Lucretia ignored the many curious stares and by evening Juniper Falls was buzzing with the news that a new Mrs. Mallory was to be married that Sunday after services. Many pitied her, had she known, Lucretia would have laughed until her stomach hurt. As the house settled for the evening, windows opened to the rapidly cooling dessert air she could hear steady slapping and Mrs. Parker’s scolding tones as she sternly chastised her pleading niece. Lucretia expanded her lungs deeply, her white night wrap billowing in the freshening breeze and gave grateful thanks for her deliverance from a spinster’s fate. Juniper Springs was truly a magical place and Sunday couldn’t come soon enough.

The naughty fairy captured by a swamp troll: part 3/3

August 25, 2016lurvspanking5 Comments

This story contains spanking and graphic unrealistic sexual descriptions between creatures. I am the original author posted elsewhere 3/8/08. Do not read if you are offended by a funny sex and spanking story.

You should go here to read the first part of the story otherwise you’ll be missing out on 1/3rd of the story. 1+1+1=3 See! Even swamp trolls can count that high!

Gee Bark, way to show off your mathematical prowess…OWWWW! You should also go here to read the second part of the story because what naughty Heather was going to say was that mouth+pussy+ass=3 fairy holes for a swamp troll to fuck. OWWWWW! I don’t think they heard you Heather. OOOOWWWWW!

Bark Gnawer was by no means finished, but then, neither was Heather. He lifted her around her waist so that she dangled over his arm and resumed spanking her very hard while she squealed and twisted. When she steadied herself by grabbing his softened cock he carefully laid her flat on the floor. She rolled to her knees and started kissing the troll’s thighs. She moved from one to the other and then took his stirring cock back in her mouth. Not satisfied, she moved on to his balls and after that, asked him to turn around and bend over. Remembering the taste of herself, she kissed and licked his buttocks and then spreading his cheeks open, stared avidly at his anus area. She ran her tongue up and down his crack, getting ever closer to her target and when she lapped at the edge, he groaned with delight. Emboldened, she tried again, this time in the center and giggled as his muscle winked at her. The taste was clean but musky and the tang bit her taste buds, drawing her to use her entire mouth to suck and lick. Reaching underneath, she clasped his cock in one hand and stroked up and down in rhythm to her tongue slithering into his sphincter. It was too much for Bark and his knees buckled and he fell forward.

Heather sat back and waited until he recovered. For a swamp troll, he seemed to have less energy than he should and she wondered if the blue haze over her skin had something to with that fact. It was clear Bark couldn’t see the color and nothing she’d ever learned at fairy school explained exactly what the color would do to a troll. She could also guess what her Master would want next, but hearing the dire warnings in her head, it was not something she would speak out loud. “Would you like some refreshments sir?”

“No, I want you. I need you. What are doing to me?”

“Nothing sir, nothing at all.”

“I don’t believe you,” Bark rumbled in his chest and got to his feet. He seized her hair and dragged her unresisting body over to a stool. Bending her over face down, he quickly secured her wrists and ankles to the wooden legs. Thus displayed, she truly was at his mercy. “Don’t go anywhere naughty fairy, I’ll be right back.” A mocking laugh trailed off until there was only silence.

Heather waited, in this position, her wings now fluttered freely. Soft and pliable, they were not enough to get her airborne; that was accomplished by fairy dust. She was resigned to the fact that very soon, too soon, Bark Gnawer the swamp troll would have an intimate encounter with the power of fairy dust. She could only hope she’d survive at least.

She heard him return and stand next her. His steady breathing did not calm her, but she was determined not to beg, no matter how much he beat her. He was correct that she was doing something to him, but no amount of torture would ever make a fairy reveal the ultimate secret. There was a soft sigh and then a band of fire laced her bottom. A loud snap echoed in the room as the leather strap left its mark: again the soft sigh and another band just below the first. With regular timing the swamp troll swung the heavy leather strap at his bound captive’s reddening bottom until he reached her upper thighs. “Do you have anything to say naughty fairy?”

The silence was unexpected, so he began again, only this time, a little harder and a little faster. By the time he had painted Heather’s bottom a second time with a deep pink coat, she was in a good deal of pain. But not enough to speak so Bark commenced his thrashing yet again. The snap and crack of the cruel strap burned her quivering cheeks and stamped his mark into her soul. She felt herself start to float and her traitorous pussy start to melt. Bark noticed that as well as stopped whipping her when her bottom from the top to midway down her thighs was deep, brick red and flaming hot.

Heather groaned as his hands slapped down hard on her cheeks and squeezed tight, digging his nails into the scalded flesh. She groaned even louder as he thrust his cock, even more enormous than ever, all the way in until his stomach meet her bottom with a thud. All the way out and all the way in: hard and violent thrusts rocked helpless Heather and all she could do is whimper. Not with pain, not anymore, only with lust as she was punished by her valentine. She deserved this treatment for flying away from fairyland and entering the Screaming Swamp. She was in truth naughty Heather and had earned every spank, every stroke, every discipline Bark meted out.

She opened her mouth and screamed and screamed. “More! More! Hurt me more! Punish me, punish your naughty Heather!” He did indeed punish her some more, pausing in his fucking frenzy to spank her with his hands and then the strap. Stoking her passion by lashing her tail, he resumed his fucking of her pussy and then had a thought. To truly punish her, she had yet one hole left to plunder. He dug his fingers in her crease and pulled her wide open. Pale skin shone where the strap had not kissed and in the middle was a pink dot where his fingers had played before. His cock was wet enough, so he pulled out of her pussy and placed the head on her anus. He felt Heather tense and asked one more time. “Do you have anything to say?”

Heather dangled there, over the stool, her pussy wet and sore, her bottom red and swollen, her Master’s cock poised to breach the forbidden entrance and still she said nothing. Unseen and unheard by Bark, tears finally flowed from her eyes as she whispered softly good-bye to her fairy life.

The swamp troll pushed forward, but despite the earlier stretching, he had difficulty puncturing the opening. He moistened her with some saliva and tried again; this time his plum size head popped inside the ring and Heather felt a jolt. She opened her mouth, whether to scream or to yield she would never know, for Bark chose that moment to push steadily inward until he could go no further but with four inches of his cock still left outside her ass. Heather reacted by exhaling in a steady hiss as she felt his large cock push her rectal walls outward. Bark waited and waited as frantic pulses ran up and down those walls. She could feel the jolts now coming closer and closer together, but she was resigned to her fate. Now he moved, pulling out in the same slow and steady motion until the head was lodged tight within her ring. Back in, a little faster and a little deeper, and then out. Back in and this time all the way to her colon as he sunk all twelve inches into her ass until his balls slapped up against her flowing pussy. He groaned, she groaned, the heat on her bottom matched the heat in her bottom. One minute, five minutes, ten minutes Bark thrust into Heather and when she heard him groan and speed up his pounding to match his earlier fucking, she knew the end was near. Once more she heard the voice of the fairy elders in her mind.

‘Never reveal the secret of fairy flight. If you allow a male penis to plunge into your back passage, the back passage where you excrete the fairy dust that gives you flight; if you allow this, then the male will be trapped and will not withdraw until he shoots his seed deep into your bowels. No matter how long it takes, until he comes he will not stop thrusting into you and when he does finally come, that seed will meet your fairy dust and the combined reaction will cause an explosion. An explosion that will kill you both and safeguard the secret of fairy flight.’

Heather felt Bark’s seed spatter the interior walls of her rectum, then nothing at all.

“Heather! Heather! Wake up!”

She felt a hand shaking her and she growled with annoyance.

“Wake up! Please!”

“Go away, I’m dead, so you can’t bother me.”

“You are not dead Heather please open your eyes.”

She reluctantly opened her eyes. She was lying on her side in the same room. The steaming waters of the pool still burbled but the walls were coated with black soot: the stool which over she had been bent and punished was so much kindling. She looked down at her body, but it was unmarred. Looking up she saw a familiar face peering down at her. “Tanner? Is that you!”

“Yes Heather it is I.”

“But they told me you had died!”

“I did.”

“Where’s Bark Gnawer?”

Tanner reached out and lifted Heather to her feet. “I am Bark, or rather, my soul was trapped in the body of a swamp troll.”

“How could that happen?”

“How do you think it happened Heather?”

“You mean… no, they couldn’t have!”

“Yes Heather Passiontail. When the fairy elders discovered that you and I had fallen in love, they cursed me by casting my soul into a dumb swamp troll. They put a spell on the troll to kill and eat any fairy he caught.”

“Then why didn’t Bark do that to me?”

“Because the spell had weakened enough for me to persuade him otherwise.”

“Then why are we still alive after he spent his seed in my bottom?”

“Part of the curse Heather was that unless the swamp troll punished my true love by coming in her bottom and igniting the fairy dust, I would never be free.”

“Oh Tanner! I can’t believe we’re together. I’m so happy.”

“I am as well Heather. There is one minor detail that I neglected to mention.”

“What is that my love?”

“A certain naughty fairy it seems, was behaving most wantonly with a swamp troll of all things. What am I to do about that?”

“Punish her hard of course, my love, my Master.”

The End and they lived spankily ever after.

Up up and away spanking

August 21, 2016lurvspanking7 Comments

Monthly prompt for Friday Flash #7 ‘Wonder Wheel’ based on this picture for writing flash fiction.

“Let me rub your tummy.”

“It hurts!”

“Didn’t Daddy tell you not to eat that corn dog?”

“But it looked so good!”

“I’m sure it did, but after the cotton candy and fried dough and tempura veggies you know my little girl gets a rumbly tumbly.”

Caroline pouted and stomped her foot. “I wanted to ride the Wonder Wheel!”

Jim sighed at his thirty-five year old wife’s childish antics. Every time they went to the fair Caroline reverted to a petulant brat stuffing her face and then whining the rest of the night. Luckily for him, not so much for her, their DD/lg marriage was tailor made for situations like this.

If, strolling the Midway with your main squeeze during that sultry summer night, you cast your gaze up, up and away, you might have caught a glimpse of a distraught crying face in the window of the uppermost car. And maybe, over the raucous organ music and excited shrieking, you might have heard a rhythmic slapping of a hard hand on a bare bottom and abject sobbing as Daddy taught Little Caroline a valuable dietary lesson one spank at a time.

The naughty fairy captured by a swamp troll: part 2/3

August 18, 2016lurvspanking3 Comments

This story contains spanking and graphic unrealistic sexual descriptions between creatures. I am the original author posted elsewhere 3/8/08. Do not read if you are offended by a funny sex and spanking story.

You should go here to read the first part of the story otherwise you’ll be missing out on 1/3rd of the story. 1+1+1=3 See! Even swamp trolls can count that high!

When Heather Passiontail awoke it was dark. She opened her eyes, but it remained dark and she sat up in fright. A frantic scan around her and she slowly could see that her surroundings were in fact, a cave. Behind her, there was the smoldering remains of a fire and stretched out on the far side was a large, still form, presumably Bark Gnawer. For herself, she was aware that she was covered by a warm blanket, woven of an unfamiliar plant fiber. She was also completely naked and when she ran her hands over her body, a faint blue glow surrounded her skin. Her involuntary gasp as she held her shimmering hands to her face roused the sleeping troll.

“You’re awake, that’s good. I was worried.”

“Yes I’m awake sir, what day is this?”

“It is two sunrises and two moonsets since you last had your eyes open.”

“Two days!” Heather lay back down and stared up into the darkness. “That explains it then,” she whispered quietly.

“Explains what?”

“Nothing sir. Why I’m so hungry sir. Do you have any food suitable for a fairy?”

There was a rumble from the direction of the dim fire and Heather could see Bark get to his feet and move in her direction. She shrank back in her blanket as the swamp troll loomed over her. Bending down, he reached under her and with surprising gentleness, scooped her up, blanket and all and trundled with measured strides deeper into the pitch-black cave.

Heather lost track of how many steps Bark had taken when at last a pale light shone in the distance. Getting closer and brighter, she squinted painfully when the full force of the glow struck her eyes. When she could see, a sense of wonder nearly overcame her when the chamber was revealed fully. “What is this place?”

“My secret place, the place that no one has been but me, until now.”

“It’s beautiful Bark Gnawer. Did you do all this?”

“Some was here already, but I did most of what you see.”

He carefully set Heather down on a padded bench set against the far wall. As he walked away towards some shelving nearby, Heather blushed when she saw he was naked as well. His muscular legs and his firm, taut buttocks drew her mesmerized gaze. Her imagination looked and wondered what it would be like to run her lips and tongue over those cheeks and between, deep between. Her blood stirred once more and to her dismay, the blue haze pulsed brighter with every heartbeat. Despite her fear though, her hands crept under the blanket and between her thighs, deep between. A low moan escaped her lips and she closed her eyes as the feelings washed over her.

She felt his hand cup the back of her neck and a container pressed to her mouth. She opened slightly and cool liquid poured in. As she swallowed, Bark carefully fed her the entire contents, all the while, Heather’s fingers kept probing her pussy. As the last of the fluid went down her throat, she came again and shuddered in waves of passion. Bark lifted first one hand and then the other, licking all her secretions from her sticky fingers until they were clean. Heather finally opened her eyes and asked, “What’s happening to me?”

Bark said nothing, but sat down beside her on the bench and set a plate of food upon her lap. Bit by bit, he fed her the entire contents of fruit and bread all washed down with more drink, this time a hot infusion of herbal tea. Still hungry, she ate a second plate of food before finally feeling satiated. “I need to relieve myself.”

Bark pointed to a curtain hanging next to the shelving and told her everything she’d need was inside. When she went to rise from the bench, the blanket was snagged under the troll. With a simple look up at her, she understood and cast off her covering. Nude, her skin flushed under his intense scrutiny. Her body ached and yearned, knowing full well that it would feel the power of his cock before long.

When she returned from her cleansing, Bark had cleaned up and motioned her to follow him through yet another curtained entrance. A short passageway through the rock led to a chamber filled with warm steam. In the center was a natural mineral spring that bubbled and frothed in a medium size pool. Around the circumference were steps carved in the edges and on the floor were stacks of towels and bottles of colored fluid. Heather needed no encouragement and dipped her toes in the roiling waters. A contented sigh and she eased down until she was covered up to her neck. The swamp troll entered across from her and for a long time, there was no sound at all, save for the popping of fragrant bubbles.

Heather was only dimly aware of the passage of time and could not be sure of how long they’d been in the bath. A volume of water sloshed around and then she felt him sit next to her. Bark wrapped an arm around her shoulders and sat her upright. Telling her to bend her head forward, Heather felt a stream of water pour over her hair again and again. Then a thick liquid dripped onto her scalp and Bark’s strong fingers massaged it deep into her tresses. Heather purred with delight as he worked and relaxed her stiff neck. More water to rinse and then Bark proceeded to methodically and thoroughly clean every inch of her body. After finishing with her hair, he moved on to her face, then her neck and her shoulders. Dipping below the surface his firm hands gripped her breasts and moved in circles round and round until he captured her nipples between his thumb and forefinger. With a painful tug that sparked her deep inside, he pulled her throbbing breasts out of the water, forcing her back to arch and bringing her taut nipples to his mouth. He teased and suckled as her hands gripped the sides of the stone bath. Her legs fell open as he moved his body closer and she felt his cock poking her belly.

“Not yet,” he murmured and released her sore nipples. He ordered her to stand and she could, barely, and only by leaning against the side. He lathered up his hands and continued washing her front, her torso, her flanks, down her thighs and lifting each leg in turn, all the way to her little pinkie toe. Everywhere except her pulsating pussy. When she begged, he said, “Not yet,” and ordered her to turn around. He then washed her back and told her to rinse off. Moving to the other end of the bath, he told her to stand on a higher step that put her waist just above the lip. Placing a stack of towels on the deck, he put his hand on the small of her back and urged her forward. When she did, her bottom rose clear of the water and his hands moved to her knees and nudged them apart. Heather trembled as she laid her head down sideways and waited for her Master to take her. Instead, soapy fingers caressed her buttocks, healed from her two-day slumber and she thrust back in small motions. Around and around his hands swirled and dipped lower and lower. Poised at the entrance to her pussy, she cried out when two slick fingers slid easily inside. In and out in a parody of sex, he cleaned her inside and out and then placed two fingers of his other hand on her anus.

She tensed, once more hearing the warnings in her mind, but it was too late, much too late. If it happened, then so be it and damn the consequences. Bark slid his fingers again into her rectum and as before, she convulsed with pleasure. Moving into her bottom and her pussy at the same time soon brought her to the brink of orgasm, but once again, he whispered, “Not yet,” and withdrew his fingers. He brought them around to mouth and she dutifully licked them clean, both from her pussy and then from her ass. The taste of her ass was like nothing she’d ever had before and her arousal ratcheted even higher.

“Naughty fairy!” Bark said spanking her as she remained bent over suckling his fingers and raising her wet bottom high begging for more fondling. Instead, she got harder spanks, her cheeks quickly turning pink under his calloused hand while he scolded her for enjoying the pain.

“Please take me Bark!”

“Not yet, your turn to take care of me.”

He slid away and after a moment, she followed, stalking him until she trapped his large body in the corner. She was only half his size, but when she pressed up against him, he went quiescent and let her work her will. She washed his hair as well and his body, but when she approached his middle, he stopped her from grabbing his cock. “Please sir, please let me clean you.”

Bark kept her away, and motioned to his legs. With a frustrated squeal, Heather pounced on his legs and rubbed as rough as she could. At last he was satisfied and leaned back with a dark smile creasing his face. “It is time, naughty fairy,” pointing to his erection, dimly seen beneath the surface. “Suck me, suck me now.”

With a desperate sob, Heather took a deep breath and plunged underwater searching for the object of her lust. Her hands grasped and brought it to her lips. Suck she did and repeatedly came up for air, before once more slavering over the large troll cock. She felt Bark’s hands in her wet hair and then he forced his cock once more down her throat. Still impaled, he rose up out of the water, bringing her head with him and before she ran out of air, he released her and she gasped loudly.

Grabbing her waist, he lifted her up, her legs wrapping around behind his back and then slid his cock into her pussy for the first time. Despite her arousal, the water had dried her out and his entry was painful. It was also the first time she’d ever been entered by a real cock. Only objects and her hands had been there before. She squirmed in his arms, but he only growled, “Be still naughty fairy, you know you need this, you need this pain.”

Heather wanted to disagree, but the thought faded with every thrust. It was still uncomfortable, but the pain had eased and instead, a feeling of being full suffused her very pores. After repeated deep probing, she felt the end of his weapon touch her womb and she cried out when he withdrew and then rammed back inside. Over and over again with steady motions he pummeled her insides while spanking her wet bottom with one large hand in time to his inward thrusts until he tensed and erupted, spewing his sperm deep. Heather was still poised on the brink, he had come too soon and she nearly cried with frustration. “Not yet,” he mocked her and holding himself inside her pussy, he moved to the edge and laid her down on the towels. Before she could react, he pulled out and then swooped in the latch his mouth on her engorged lips. His tongue foraged inside and withdrew coated with his sperm. Again and again he licked and drank down their mingled essence until she was empty, then, he started on her clitoris. This time when she was nearly there, all Bark said was, “Come,” and Heather did until she could come no more.

End part 2

The naughty fairy captured by a swamp troll: part 1/3

August 13, 2016lurvspanking7 Comments

This story contains spanking and graphic unrealistic sexual descriptions between creatures. I am the original author posted elsewhere 3/8/08. Do not read if you are offended by a funny sex and spanking story.

Heather didn’t mean to be naughty, but being spawned under the full moon on a leap year had caused her to grow slower than the other fairies. Here it was, her fifth birthday [even though she was really twenty years old] and still everyone treated her like a mugwump. Not fair! All the other girls were finding their mates, lots and lots of mates morning noon and night and yet Heather had nobody. Fine, she’d show them all. Two weeks before the leap day, when all the other fairies were sleeping off the effects of the latest orgy, Heather flew slowly and carefully away from the enchanted meadow and into the Screaming Swamp. She’d been warned that the swamp was dangerous and that naughty fairies went in but they never came out.

Heather delighted in all the pretty flowers in the swamp and despite the large spooky trees and the many clinging vines she felt quite safe flitting from flower to bush. In fact, some of the large stamens were very, very nice to rub against. So much so, that her resentment at not having multiple mates of her own was slightly tempered. She probed deeper and deeper into the gloomy swamp until at last, she decided that it was time to rest. Finding an outcrop of rock, she alighted and walked over to the edge. Bending over to spy out the locale, Heather was shocked when she felt something seize her around the waist. She was even more shocked, when her fairy skirt was flicked up and a large hand commenced to spank her bottom quite hard. Oh no was Heather’s first and second thoughts as her now bare bottom was exposed to the elements… and to the harsh hand thoroughly warming her naughty backside. She struggled, not very convincingly, but the spanking continued forever. Well, not forever, but Heather was determined not to scream. Now she knew why it was called the Screaming Swamp, but was it too late for her?

A deep voice rumbled through Heather’s body. It did delicious things to her insides, made them all melty and slick. “Why have you entered my domain?” The commanding voice was punctuated by another hard swat to Heather’s red bottom.

“Sorry!” she squealed, “I was just passing through.”

“Liar!” roared the angry sounding voice and although Heather was still firmly bent over and exposed, there was not the anticipated swat. Instead, what felt like feathers were slowly moved up and down her quivering calves.

“No,” naughty Heather moaned, “no, please don’t do that! Spank me more, harder and harder until I’m screaming! Please, I’ll scream for you.”

A low growling chuckle shook the swamp caused ripples in the scummy water and felled snakes from the trees. “Oh, oh, oh. Yes little fairy, you will scream for me. I know what naughty girls like you need. Not spanking, no, not that. Naughty fairies get tickled!”

The canopy overhead swayed as Heather’s shrieks and pleas for mercy fell on deaf ears. The mysterious creature effortless picked her up and after sitting down on a nearby stump, threw her over his lap. From her face-down position Heather finally determined that her chastiser was a ‘he’, the large – make that – very large, lump under her tummy was proof of his gender. She grabbed his hairy leg and tugged and beat on him with her fists in frustration. “Let me go!”

His response was to firmly pin her torso to his thick, meaty thighs and then to slowly commence the tickle torture.

The swamp troll, for that’s what Heather finally realized he was, ran his large and calloused hands all over her body. He pinched and poked and prodded and tickled her soft and succulent flesh. She pleaded for her release, but he left no part of her body unexplored. Heather wriggled frantically when she felt her sore bottom cheeks be pulled apart and the warm breath of the troll was followed by a wet finger probing her rear opening.

“No!” she shouted, “Enough of this you beast! I demand you let me go!”

There was a no response, just a gentle in and out movement of first one finger and then two. Heather swiveled her hips as best she could but he clamped her tighter to his lap and with his free hand, gripped the back of her neck tightly. Helpless, she could only squeal in outrage as very unfairylike oaths spewed from her dainty lips.

After one last stretching, he withdrew his thick and stubby fingers from her bottom and then with quick and decisive blows, resumed spanking her tender cheeks.

“I am not a beast.”

“Yes you are! You are a large, hairy, smelly beast and I hate you!”

Heather writhed over his lap, her lower half bouncing under her chastiser’s hand, her head firmly grasped in the other. Despite the rough handling, what she really scared her was the feelings stirring in her blood. Fairies had a secret that they revealed to no one and if the troll continued much longer with his treatment of her, Heather feared the worst.

“Do you know what day this is?” he grumbled.

“No I don’t sir.” Heather was relieved that he’d stopped spanking her again, although his hand was now caressing her very red and very tender bottom.

“It’s Saint Valentines Day.”

“I thought that was only for cupids?” Heather was very surprised that a swamp troll would have any concept of love.

“I don’t have a valentine of my own.”

Heather was rapidly reassessing her predicament. Maybe there was a way out of her torment after all. “Sir? If you let me go, I’ll help you.”

“Naughty fairy, if I let you go, you’ll fly away.”

“No Mr.Troll, I promise I won’t try to escape. On my word as Heather Passiontail, I will be your valentine.”

There was utter silence and she could feel the tension in his body and the trembling in his hands. He grasped her waist and lifted her up and off his lap. Setting her down, he then gently spun her around to face him. “You’ll be my valentine?”

Heather could only nod as she saw the troll for the first time.

“You’ll do anything I say?”

Her response was a shy smile and she reached out to touch his leg.

“My name is Bark Gnawer.”

“That’s an interesting name sir, how did you earn such strong moniker?”

“What’s a moniker? Are you saying I have something on my face?”

“No sir! A moniker is a name, and your name Mr. Bark Gnawer, it’s a very handsome name.”

“I like your name too Heather Passiontail. Your tail is very red, I like that.”

Heather reached around and rubbed that red bottom. The initial sting had started to fade, but oh was she sore. She would do anything, anything at all to avoid another spanking. Deciding to take the initiative, Heather gently eased Bark onto the stump and sat her aching cheeks on his lap. She took his face in her hands and kissed him firmly on the mouth.

“So what do you want your valentine to do first?”

“This is nice Heather, but I want you to suck my cock. I’ve never had that done to me before.”

“Never?”

“Do I look like the kinda guy that the ladies would flock to? Does this look like a hangout for luscious females? I live in a fucking swamp Heather! What do you think?”

“I’m sorry sir, I didn’t mean to upset you, I’m sorry. Please don’t beat me again, I’ll give you the best blowjob I can.”

“You better, or else that spanking you got will seem like patty cakes.”

Heather squeaked with distress and quickly jumped off his lap and fell to her knees. She was surprised when she realized that Bark wasn’t naked, but had on a tunic and a loincloth. It blended in with his wrinkled skin, but she had no problem sliding her slender fingers under the waistband and drawing the loincloth down and off his legs. Her knees were uncomfortable so she wadded up the cloth and then knelt once more. When she looked back up, she let a loud gasp.

“You’re huge! How am I supposed to suck that?”

Bark the swamp troll leaned forward and grabbed her long hair pulling her face to face with the rapidly expanding erection. He was actually over twelve inches, not that he’d actually measured or anything, and the knob was the size of a large plum. He was so keyed up from trollhandling the naughty fairy that he feared he would spurt at any moment. No time for subtleties, he poked clumsily at her mouth until his cock slid between her lips.

“Rumph, guggle, slobber, choke.”

Heather flailed her arms and tried to slow him down, but Bark sawed his throbbing slab in and out, going further and deeper at every desperate thrust. His hand twisted her hair and forced her head back creating a better angle to thrust even deeper. In response to the pain, Heather was shocked to feel her fairy pussy fairly gush fluid and when he pulled back out, she was able to take a deep breath.

“Wait please!”

“Why?”

“Stand up sir, let me lay down on the stump.”

Heather arranged her body so that her head fell backwards off the edge. Upside down, she could see that the large club jutting out from his torso was now lined up perfectly with her mouth. She stretched out her arms and grabbing both of his thighs, she drew him closer. Taking several lung filling breaths, she sucked the head of his cock into her mouth and with one steady push, let Bark shove his entire twelve inch meat straight down her squeezing throat. It was too much for him and with a roar that echoed through the swamp, Heather felt scalding fluid gush into her throat and down into her eager tummy.

After he was drained, he made to move back, but Heather stopped him.

“Sir, you’re still hard and as your valentine, I insist you use me some more. I want you to fuck my mouth this time. Ram it in as deep and as hard as you want until you come again. Please sir, throat fuck your naughty fairy and punish her for teasing you.”

Bark did indeed punish his naughty fairy valentine and for thirty minutes used Heather’s throat. She in the meantime had buried her right hand in her pussy, fisting herself in time to Bark’s thrusts. She already had come three times when she felt his cock bulge once more and eject a vast quantity into her mouth this time. The salty, gummy texture filled her watering mouth and as she swallowed, the depraved action triggered yet another massive orgasm that caused her to blackout.

End of part 1.

The Silent Treatment gets spanked

July 31, 2016July 31, 2016lurvspanking4 Comments

Cross posted to ‘New Beginnings’ on 7/29/16 Thanks PK so if you’ve already read the post you can wait until the next post. On her blog she filled in the names.

This is a fill in the blank story. The names of the guilty you can select and punish.

Husband #1. “Dude! What’s wrong with your wife?”
Husband #2. “She’s giving me the silent treatment. Who knows.”
Husband #3. “Wouldn’t happen in my house.”
Husband #4. “Why not?”
Husbands #1,#3. “Because our wives would be over our knees for a long hard spanking until they started talking. That’s why!”
Husbands #2,#4. “WTF?”

___ was getting fed up with ___ and her silent treatment. He had no idea what set her off this time only that she hadn’t exchanged more than ‘I’m fine’ and ‘I have a headache’ all weekend. Hanging out with the guys watching sports on Sunday was an ordeal when ___ asked him what was wrong with her? That time of the month was greeted with sighs and snickers. [Not the chocolate bar-men being assholes] ___ overheard their derision and stormed out of the house with mayhem on her mind. She went next door to ___ house and vented over margaritas. ___ noticed ___ was squirming every time she sat down. Are you OK? Not that time of the month is it? [sarcastic tipsy] No, ___ spanked me this morning for back talk. WTF? ___ spanks you? Yes for cursing, speeding, overspending, overeating, being drunk… all sorts of things. Rarely a day goes past without my panties down and my bottom reddened. I can’t believe this! I’m not the only one, ___ and ___ and ___ also get spanked. Don’t you? ___ would never spank me! Is that a good thing? You just told me you’re giving him the silent treatment. In my house, that calls for the paddle and a long blowjob to atone. Doesn’t that make you feel degraded? ___ honey the only thing that makes me feel degraded is when ___ doesn’t spank me for something I did wrong. Being ignored hurts way more than a session with the cane. I don’t know if I could let ___ spank me, it seems so medieval and uncaring. No ___ you’re wrong, being spanked is empowering, it shows me that ___ cares about me as a person and wants me to succeed in my goals. Spanking allows me to be a better wife, a better mother and a better person.

___ went home after dark. ___ had come over to ___ house and the three of them had discussed children, work and spanking husbands. [husbands spanking wives- not spanking husbands- oh never mind] ___ was waiting for her alone, the guys having given him some rather explicit advice. Could he do it? Could he be a superhero to his wife? Spankoman! ___ was tired and confused and brushed past him wanting to take a shower. When she finished, she curled up in bed and cried. ___ tiptoed into the bedroom listening to her venting her frustration. Behind his back he hid the implement. Standing over her back he raised it up and swung down. A soft thunk as the down pillow thudded against her bottom. What are you doing? He swung again hitting her torso with a pop. What does it look like? I’m having a one-sided pillow fight. ___ grabbed a pillow and rose to her knees, her nude body still damp from the shower. She swung her pillow and hit his legs. Back and forth they went until she fell back laughing and gasping for breath. ___ sat down on the bed, leaned over and kissed her. Welcome back, are you going to talk to me now? She apologized for her behavior and he accepted. You’re still dressed and her hands went to his belt buckle. That’s because I’m not finished with you yet. What are you going to do to me? ___ you know I love you but your treatment of me is unacceptable at times. There is only one way for me express my dissatisfaction and that is to put you over my knee and spank you for your silent treatment.

___ looked at ___ with wide eyes and did not resist when he drew her up and over his lap. Her unblemished beautiful bounteous bare bottom beckoned for a beating. This is for not speaking with me as his hand rose and fell. This is for running away and drinking all afternoon as her bottom turned pink. This is for cursing when you don’t think I hear as she begged him to stop. And this is for believing I’m a selfish bastard who doesn’t care enough about your well-being that I wouldn’t spank you as he turned her bottom a lovely shade of red. He rubbed and prodded as she wept out the last of her tension and fears. Still over his knees, ___ used his fingers inside her weeping core and thrummed her aching clit until she came begging him not to stop. So ___ did not stop, but threw ___ on her back and licked deep inside as she convulsed again and again. When ___ opened her eyes, she saw ___ was still dressed. He told her she was not done with her punishment. Kneel. She knelt and unbuckled his belt, lowered the zipper and reached inside pulling out the concealed treasure. It was at that stage of rock hard firmness and throbbing hot as she wrapped her hands around the shaft. Clear sweet liquid oozed from the round tip gleaming in the light. Before ___ could open her mouth and begin her discipline, ___ informed her that spankings would be forthcoming whenever she earned them. Do you agree ___?

___ looked up at her husband. My mother told me it was rude to talk with my mouth full.

The problem with reading archives

July 29, 2016lurvspanking2 Comments

How do you highlight your blogging past? You can’t open a photo album or leaf through a book. Blogging is a linear and one-dimensional ripple in the infinite sea of the internet. You can try an about page, a sticky post, a sidebar list even an index, but the gone in a flash nature of today’s online community waits for no post. Here is my attempt to list six-of-the-best – with an extra penalty stroke – short fiction stories that I am most proud of writing.

P.S. My favorite piece of writing is #4, the post with the most all-time views at 2,400 is #2

#1 My very first post Sept, 6 2009 called “An Office Thrashing”
#2 “You May now Spank the Bride” Sept, 19 2009
#3 “Why do I crave Spanking” Sept. 22, 2009
#4 “Exchanging spanking vows” Oct. 10, 2009
#5 “Fear of pain” Nov 7, 2009
#6 “Armistice Day” Nov. 11, 2009
#7 “The hand does not make you down” Nov. 29, 2009

Read none, read them all, but always know that as a spanko you are not alone.

Ruined for Billy Joel

July 15, 2016July 17, 2016lurvspanking6 Comments

Friday Flash #6 monthly prompt ‘Leaving an Italian restaurant’ based on this picture

He had an appartamento near the docks where he worked as a stivatore, run by the Mafia, slipping cargo past customs, cigarettes and girls from the Balkans. He met her there, an investigatore rescuing slaves, ben educato, he illiterate, but sly. The gutters defined him, grab what you can before it washes downstream. Muscled the waterfront, never saw anything kept his banconota in battered olive oil tins. She sought him out. Informazioni per favore. sì. In exchange, what he wanted. Her posteriore. Laughter, she left him, always leaving and coming back for more. Over the table, plates pushed aside. Thick leather pulled from loops, doubled and swung. Always raised buttocks meeting lash, driving and parted: a yowling aria, neighbors silenzio! Sometimes inside, after the spanking. Belt, hand. Red welts and blue bruises. Orgasmo he’d eat sometimes, southern dishes, fiery passione before frozen ghiaccio stole his breath. Slipped away, dirty dishes, wine dripping, dripping spreading: Vergine Maria in vino! Miracolo! Miracolo! He would be famous. No, it is only Mussolini. It was upside down hanging meat. Last time beating leaving for Napoli, Vesuvius he was. She leaves, his camera too late, striding away, always away never his, no amore, no Romeo. She was never his, only used for her desires, the contani spilling from olive oil tins, gifts always the gifts, never her pulsing heart. If she had one at all. So he’s here, to forget, our Italian restaurant, a bottle of red, a bottle of white…

He hated that song. Chianti bottle empty even turned upside down, drops hovering above white linen bleeding, always bleeding the craving to pulverize silica and why the stupid candles? What’s with the fucking candles!? Do you see her? The sepia legs once enveloped, mounted and rode pink glistening notes shattering goblets that once held pale nectar drunk toasts of forever. Took the image, here on the threshold, granite steps when ascended pesto and garlic, men in dark silk suits women: don’t forget the women. Sweeping dress a gift, bag gift, bracelet gift, shoes a gift, gift, gift! Always giving… always weeping. She was spaghetti alle vongole, a hot sirocco, sand abrading flesh, slithering and writhing, doused with rosé; she liked rosé the color of her bottom after, always after the session. Walked away, every… single…time she walked away! Bicep, you see? Feel. Hard, strong, hand of steel. He hated that song. She’d call, weeks months, she’d always call, again, another round. Drop the bag, the bracelets, slip the shoes, dress flung to floor, pulsed artery in neck. Empty, even upside down, denim thighs bulging lifting bales of Egyptian cotton watered by Hapi: empty as hand turned pale Riesling to purple Burgundy. She loved wine, spanking… she walked away. Used, recycled glass, maybe this one: empty Chianti bleeding on white linen. She wanted – craved – desired – used by laborer, sweaty, strong you doubt? Took that image, on the wall. Momento last time. Cutting shards, fingers tease print from frame. Mine, always mine. Polizia here, lire soak up the blood.

Spanks for Dinner

July 8, 2016lurvspankingLeave a comment

I am the original author. Posted elsewhere 3/8/08

“Logan,” she said, “I am so excited about tonight. Where are you taking me for dinner?”

Logan continued to smile at Hillary saying nothing. He moved his eyes up and down her body nodding slowly. He raised a finger and slowly twirled it in the air.

Hillary took a trembling breath and spun in place causing her short skirt to flare to the top of her stockings. Again he raised his hand and motioned her to lean forward so that her dress revealed her cleavage. Her nipples grew even tighter in the caress of her silken bra that lifted her breasts in offering to her lover, now Master.

Logan moved closer and gazed down at her blond hair spilling over her shoulders as she waited with bowed head and firmly grasping her chin he raised her up to look into her green eyes.

“Do you have everything I asked you to prepare?”

“Yes Logan, and I can’t wait…”

Logan swiftly turned her around and bent her over. Two hard spanks, one to each cheek echoed in the entryway.

“What is my name, pet?”

Hillary moaned in his firm embrace, “Master, sir.”

Logan spanked her several more times, Hillary squealing at each blow and then he released her and stepped back.

“No!” he stated as Hillary started to stand up. “Stay bent over, show me your bottom.”

Hillary looked back through her bangs. “I’m sorry Master, what?”

Logan narrowed his eyes, “A simple request pet. Show… me… your… bottom. Now!”

Hillary was embarrassed but so incredibly turned on that her pussy was free flowing with her fluids and she could feel her panties already soaked. She reached back and grabbed the hem of her skirt and drew it up to her waist exposing her cheeks snugged tight on the sides by the boyshort style. Logan could see faint pink marks from the previous smacks. He could also see the damp center of her sex encased by black silk.

“Are you turned on pet?”

Hillary could only nod.

“And how many times did you come when dressing?” Logan asked.

“Twice sir.”

“Is that allowed? Whom do you belong to?”

Hillary swallowed, “I belong to you sir. I am sorry I came without your permission.”

Logan waited while Hillary’s legs started to tremble with the strain of being bent over. Her thoughts were wild with anticipation, what would he do now.

“Remove your panties,” he said.

This time she did not hesitate, but quickly lowered them to the floor and waited for his next command.

“Pick them up and hand them to me,” he ordered.

Logan received her sodden silk and turned them inside out then walked over and grabbed a chair. Sitting down he said to her, “Come here and stand next to me.”

Hillary obeyed and looked down at the floor.

“You must be punished before we go out to dinner. I want you to have a nice red bottom to sit on tonight. Open your mouth.” Logan pressed her panties onto her tongue and scrubbed vigorously. “Close your mouth and suck them while I spank you.”

He grasped her waist and bent her over his knee, then raised her dress baring her pristine flesh. Raising his hand he brought it down with force on her bottom. Smack, smack, the spanks rang out with sharp crisp sounds. Hillary was even more aroused as she writhed on his lap. The tart and sweet taste of her pussy was filling her mouth as she sucked the silk frantically while the pain radiating from her sore bottom was going directly to her clit that was aching with need. All too soon Logan stopped after delivering nearly 100 hard spanks that had turned her bottom a lovely shade of pink. Logan raised her up and lowered her dress. Reaching up he caressed her ruby lips and removed the panties from her mouth.

“You no longer need these. Now we are ready to go out to dinner.” Offering his arm to her, “Shall we?”

Hillary nodded and they walked out the door the cool night air wafting up her legs and fanning her overheated and throbbing bare pussy. It was going to be a long night. She couldn’t wait to see what else he had planned.

A long overdue birthday spanking

July 1, 2016July 2, 2016lurvspanking1 Comment

“This is so romantic darling. Just you and I, alone, together, by ourselves, all is quiet…”

“Except for the bug zapper.”

“The stars shining brightly.”

“Washed out by streetlight’s glare.”

“The moon rising over the horizon.”

“That’s the ball field.”

“The gentle songs of nature going to bed.”

“The roar of the highway.”

“What is wrong with you!? I’ve got your favorite wine, the pastries and the fresh fruit. We’re on the porch swing, it’s warm and the kids are at your parents for the weekend. I gave you new lingerie, an iPhone and a gift certificate to the spa. What else can I do?”

“You wouldn’t understand.”

The heavy Tennessee air lay on my skin like a lover. July 4th weekend, her birthday and instead of kissing and fondling leading to hot sex, there were salty tears. She’d given me children, passion, meals and she was the center of my heart. I’d given her love, a safe home and security. After fifteen years together I thought I knew everything about her. But these tears, this distress, this, I did not understand.

“Understand what?”

She swiped her eyes and stared blankly out into the night.

“Listen.”

I listened. The sounds of the neighborhood: barking dogs, music, car doors slamming, teens splashing pool water, arguments, television and fireworks. All normal sounds barely noticed.

“I don’t hear anything abnormal.”

“There is something missing.”

“What?”

“It’s my birthday. There is something missing.”

“You want me to sing happy birthday?”

“No.”

“What’s missing then? I don’t understand.”

She smiled sadly at me and gently touched my face.

“There’s no sounds of spanking my love. There should be sounds of spankings on my birthday.”

My mouth dropped open in shock. My wife, my beautiful wife, mother of our children, school volunteer, part-time bank teller was telling me… she wanted a spanking?

“I’ve never even thought. I mean we have a great sex life. I never even thought…”

“I know.”

“How long?”

“Forever.”

“Why didn’t you?”

She put her finger over my lips and gently shook her head.

“I couldn’t… before.”

We sat together quietly in the gathering darkness, fireflies flashing, frogs croaking and never, ever, had I felt so distant. Before? Before what? My thoughts tumbled like puppies. She wanted a spanking. She wanted a birthday spanking!

“Is that what you really want for your birthday?”

I felt her nod against my shoulder.

“All right. Let’s go inside.”

I stared at her ass as she walked up the stairs. The thought of spanking it seemed so surreal. She asked me wait on the bed while she changed. When she returned from the bathroom, she was dressed in my gift, a long red silk gown slit up the side. In her hand, a wooden short-handled bath brush. In her eyes, a plea for understanding and compassion and mercy. I rose to meet her, my lips crushing hers, my hands capturing her rounded bottom and squeezing tightly with passionate possession. This woman, my wife, was mine and having come this far, I refused to disappoint her.

“How do you want me to do this?”

“I thought… bending over the bed… maybe?”

“Not over my knee?”

“Well… that way… after… you can take me. Anyway you want.”

I took the brush. She bent over, raised her gown, and laid down on the duvet. Her bottom, widened with childbirth, was all womanly curves; funny how I’d never thought of spanking before, but now, spread out before me like a pagan sacrifice, I could think of nothing else but the need to punish.

“I know you want this darling, but how hard do y…”

“Hard please. Thirty six hard spanks. Ooohhhh!”

I smacked the bath brush down onto her bare bottom, the impact rippling, the noise shockingly loud. One, two, three… ten, eleven.

“Slower please! Slower. Let me catch my breath.”

I slowly gave her another ten spanks, alternating between cheeks. I stopped to rub the back of the brush across her pink flesh. I was enthralled by the contrast in colors. I wondered if I should spank all over or concentrate in the same area. So I asked.

“Only fifteen left? Then I want the next ten in my sit spots, five per side. Then, give me the last five where my butt meets my thighs. And honey? I want those last five super hard and super fast.”

Methodically I spanked her over and over again, pink getting darker and darker. I paused and asked her to raise her bottom up high for the last five.

“You asked for it.”

I drew my arm back and fired the brush, one, two, three, four, five right at the base of her untouched bottom. It was over before she could even yell. But yell she did and lunged forward onto the bed, her hands flying back to grab her flaming flesh. I lunged forward as well, pants dropped, hands gripped hips, I rammed deep; the need to dominate, to punish, to take her for my pleasure alone, this would definitely not be her last spanking. I spilled convulsively into her clinging depths and slumped over her back. The silk was cool, her bottom was hot and I softly licked her salty neck.

“Happy birthday.”

When spanking meets the green-eyed monster

September 27, 2010lurvspanking2 Comments

The neighborhood had changed, not gradually, but cataclysmically. Lauren had had to leave. Abandoning her husband, running from the birthday party for her best friend: driving aimlessly, yet urgently she fled. Her cell chirped and vibrated frantically. Lauren had withstood the temptation to fling it out the driver’s window. She was in shock, intellectually she understood her flight was problematic, yet, the primitive woman roared and snarled, demanding satisfaction. Yes it had been Ashleigh’s party, her twenty-fifth birthday. Yes the alcohol had flowed. Yes Lauren knew Ashleigh liked kinky sex. Yes Ashleigh had bent over, her ‘spank me’ panties flashing the guests. OK, Lauren admitted, she’d swatted her best friend more times than she could remember. It was a birthday party, they were all adults and clothes had stayed on. But, stumbling down the hall seeking the bathroom, hearing the smacks, opening the door to see her husband spanking the very naked Ashleigh, other guests patiently waiting their turn at the scarlet ass of her best friend: it was an earthquake. Somehow, she’d left, driving drunk, streets empty and dark, now, out of gas, out of range, red and blue lights quickly bathed her ashen face in pulsing color. When the officer tapped on the glass, Lauren was numb. Following her instructions, Lauren surrendered her identification, her cell and her dignity. At the station, Lauren was booked on charges of DUI and held upon payment of bail and arrival of her husband.

Waking in the morning to the frantic urgings of her bladder, the smell of stale urine and vomit caused Lauren to add her contribution to the detox cell. Dirty, tired and more miserable than she’d ever been in her life, when the matron called her name, Lauren shuffled to the door and was brought to a private room. Cuffed and seated on a steel chair bolted to the floor, Lauren stared at her chipped nails and dirty fingers. Tears fell unhindered. Images flashed untethered. When, finally, her husband and his lawyer arrived, the silence was thunderous. Lauren heard her husband dismiss the lawyer with details of her release, the clang of the heavy lock made her flinch. Unwilling to meet his eyes, she instead stared at his waist. The thick black leather belt, the holster, the chrome handcuffs; how often had they played bad cop and hard hooker. Lauren was terrified. She saw his legs move around the table, his arms yanking her to her feet then throwing her body across the hard surface. Restrained wrists dangling, Lauren murmured a feeble protest. He ignored her, pulling the jail issued pants down, followed by her soiled panties, he made a noise of utter disgust. That sound was quickly eclipsed by the harsh snap of leather meeting flesh. This was between her and him. Some of his brothers and sisters in blue may not have agreed with the actual punishment, but neither did they watch with cameras or eyes. By the time he was done strapping Lauren, her bottom was verging on purple and her throat hoarse from screaming.

Lying on her stomach, in her own bed, the jail lingering no matter the hour spent scrubbing under the hot shower, Lauren cried when she moved, cried when she remembered the silence after the spanking was done, cried when her apologies were ignored, cried and cried and cried until she fell asleep. Slowly waking to calloused hands gently rubbing her deep bruises, Lauren started violently, but a ‘shhhhh, let me take care of you’ allowed her to relax. His thick fingers kneaded, probed and tormented her until the events of the last twenty-four hours burst and Lauren commenced deep, guilty sobs. Heedless of her aching bottom, she squirmed over and fairly leapt into her husband’s embrace. He kissed her softly, but as her hands fumbled with his belt, he stood, quickly shedding his work uniform and entered her in one slamming thrust. Jealously had torn them apart, but thanks to their commitment to discipline, they could find the way back.

First try at spanking

April 26, 2010July 18, 2016lurvspanking2 Comments

There was something so soothing about being cradled in a man’s arms, especially after a nice session of loving. Ellen blushed, even though Franklin had been her husband for eleven months, she still felt constrained by her morals. The lights had to be off. She had to be wearing a nightgown. And she’d never done anything other than simply lying down and letting Franklin enter her with his thing. He was patient with her shyness though. He understood the fractured upbringing she suffered. By taking her away and beginning a new life together Ellen was realizing there was more to a marriage than drinking and yelling.

“Franklin?”
“Hum.”
“Do I please you?”
“In what way?”
“You know… in bed… when you love me.”
“Of course you do darling. You’re a wonderful partner and I love you very much. Now get some sleep.”

Ellen laid silently listening to her husband’s breathing and occasional snoring. She couldn’t sleep. Naïve as she was, the friends she’d made in this town all seemed happier and more satisfied with their marriages when it came to loving. Ellen blushed in the dark even thinking the word ‘sex’. To hear her friends gossip there were many things they did and had done to them that Ellen couldn’t even bring herself to acknowledge ever trying. Yet, in the quiet hours of the early morning, if she was honest with herself, she felt unfulfilled with the physical parts of her marriage. If only Franklin was…

After making breakfast for her husband and seeing him off to work, Ellen busied herself with domestic chores. She took pride in a clean house and good cooking. She’d asked Franklin after they were engaged if she would be required to continue her career. He’d firmly stated then it was his responsibility to support her and their children and her responsibility to keep house and be a mother. The mother part had yet to materialize but the doctor had assured Ellen she was normal ‘down there’. She’d been mortified by the exam, her first, but the doctor had been caring if a bit stern. Even Franklin had never seen her so intimately; Ellen frowned at the notion, it seemed wrong some how to deny her husband. The rest of the day passed in a blur until at a quarter to six Franklin returned home. It was Thursday, meatloaf and potato night. Serving him, refilling his glass and listening intently while he vented, Ellen felt very content.

In his den later Franklin was engrossed in reports when there was a timid knock on the door. Ellen entered his sanctum and stood without speaking in front of his desk. “Yes?”
“Franklin? I’m sorry. I’ll leave you alone. It’s nothing.”
“Nonsense Ellen. Whatever is bothering you I would appreciate knowing. I am your husband.”
“I know. You deserve better from a wife.”
“What claptrap are you spouting Ellen? I am quite pleased with your efforts as my wife. You provide a pleasant home and good food, what more could a man want?”
“Maybe… I know you’re a man Franklin… you have needs… I’m not very good at, you know, sex.”

Franklin was stunned. His demure Ellen was apologizing for her lack of skills in the bedroom? It was true he had certain ‘needs’, however, demanding his wife provide them was… gauche. He was a gentleman, and gentlemen never took, only coaxed. The stories of fantastic and exotic sex were just that, stories and fables written by men too timid to seek out a real woman.
“I think you’re doing fine Ellen. I am quite satisfied by your efforts to please me. We’ll not discuss this further.”
“But…”
“Enough Ellen.”

She was clearly being dismissed and she obeyed, at first; then determinedly made up her mind. “No Franklin, it is not enough. I am not enough for you. If I am truly to be your wife then my body must also belong to you to use as you see fit. You need more. I want more. There has to more to sex than what we’ve had for the past eleven months. There has to be more Franklin.”
“Are you disobeying me Ellen? I said I was satisfied.”
“What if I am Franklin? I think you’re lying. I think you want to do all sorts of nasty things to me.”
“And how do you know about ‘nasty’ things Ellen? What have you been reading behind my back?”
“Nothing Franklin! My friends talk about their husbands all the time! I can’t help but overhear.”
“Overhear what precisely?”
Ellen was blushing profusely but Franklin’s scolding was melting some of her natural reserve. His dominance was making her squirm. “Susan said she loved to suck Tom’s ‘thing’ until he spurted in her mouth.”
“His thing?”
“You know… his manroot.”
“Ah. His penis. Go on.”
“Laura explained how Samuel licks her down there…”
“Down there Ellen?”
“Her pussy Franklin. Laura loves to have her pussy licked. How come you’ve never tried that with me?”

Franklin stood up and walked around the desk: Ellen instinctively backed-up against the closed door. He bent down and kissed his wife – hard – while gripping her firmly round the waist. He forced his tongue into her mouth, she responded with a faint moan. Releasing her lips he asked her, “What else wife did you overhear?”
Ellen shook her head to clear her thoughts. “Most of my friends are…”
“Yes?”
“Are spanked.”
“Spanked?”
“Yes Franklin, spanked; hard and often if their tales are to be believed.”
“By their husbands?”
“Evidentially.”
“Because?”
“I don’t know Franklin. I was too embarrassed to inquire.”

There was a wingless armchair in the corner of the den. Franklin led his unresisting wife and bent her over his seated knees. Raising her dress he was struck by the realization it was the first time he’d ever seen her bottom in daylight. “Down or up?”
“Down please Franklin. I’ve been a bad girl. I’ve neglected you so much. Spank me hard… please?”

Over the top

April 11, 2010lurvspanking2 Comments

The blue spruces shuddered violently. Lightning danced rapidly from menacing flannel clouds approaching the homestead. Heather Parks wrung her hands thinking of her husband Josh driving home in this terrifying weather. He’d been gone a week this time on business and despite nightly calls she constantly worried about his health. Her concern was a constant source of friction. Josh hated being ‘babied’ and Heather had fled in tears after many an argument. If only he would see what she needed, what she craved: he was oblivious to her! As the storm grew harsher so did Heather’s thoughts until the crashing thunder shook dust from the rafters.

“Mom! Where’s my yellow shirt?”

“It’s in the wash! I’m trying to write, have Daddy help you!” Corrine Campos grimaced hearing the horde descending upon her unsuspecting husband. Carmelo was warm and loving, except when it came to women’s work. Old-fashioned to the extreme he would never even consider lifting a finger to help around the house. He supported Corrine and their three children by running his own consulting business and that was enough for him and his mother. She’d found his masculinity overwhelming when they were dating but after ten years of marriage the resentments were reaching the breaking point. When her phone rang; well, Corrine snapped out without checking ID.

“What!”
“My, my Corrine. Testy today?”
“Sorry Roxy. Bad day.”
“I understand. Hate to rain on your parade but ‘Over the top’ needs work, lots of work.”
“I know, I know, I know. I’m editing now Roxy, please give me a little more time.”
“I’m sorry Corrine, but the deadline is Wednesday and if you don’t have a publishable draft by tomorrow the magazine is going to cancel. There’s nothing more I can do. Give me something to sell and I’ll go to the mat for you.”
“Okay Roxy. Tomorrow, I promise. Gotta go, hubby is pounding on the door.”

“What are you doing? Your children are driving me crazy!”
“I’m sorry Carmelo. I was talking to a friend. I’ll be right there.”

Corrine put her computer to sleep and wasted two hours caring for her children before foisting them off on her sister for the rest of the day. Carmelo had left, to go and do who knew what, but Corrine was quite happy to see his BMW squealing out of the gate. Finally: Peace and quiet.

The blue spruces shuddered violently as if in the throes of orgasm. Lightning danced rapidly from the menacing flannel clouds approaching the homestead intent on rape. Heather Parks wrung her hands thinking of her horny husband Josh driving home in this terrifying weather. He’d been gone a week this time on business and despite nightly calls she constantly worried about the health of his penis. Her concern was a constant source of friction. Josh hated being ‘babied’ and Heather had fled in tears after many a blowjob. If only he would see what she needed, what she craved: he was oblivious to her! As the storm grew harsher so did Heather’s thoughts until the crashing thunder shook dust from the rafters. What if she never got a chance to suck on his hard cock ever again?

Josh pulled into the garage amidst hail as large as fists and rain so thick the wipers failed to keep up. He was trembling with fatigue and looked forward to a long, hot soapy shower – by himself. Heather was so needy lately! What was her problem? He was less than pleased to open the door and find Heather on her knees, warm mouth open and blue eyes pleading for his cock. He finally snapped. Grabbing her long blond hair in his calloused fingers he dragged her into the living room and threw her over the back of the couch. Whipping out his belt he proceeded to beat his wife on her rounded quivering bottom while she cried and begged the entire time. When her ass was covered with weals he threw down the belt, stalked to her head, yanked up her head and shoved his cock down her throat.

Heather was in shock. Where was the loving gentle man she’d married? Why was he doing this? Her ass was on fire and while it hurt, the pain was nothing compared to her broken heart. When he pulled out of her mouth she protested again but then he began to pound her pussy each thrust slapping her sore bottom. Heather felt her climax building, the storm continuing unabated, neither one noticing the lights failing or glass shattering. Rain driven by violent winds soaked them as Josh fucked Heather as hard as he could: not caring a whit for her needs. She screamed again, pain was creating pleasure and her soaking wet cunt flooded the cushions. She moaned and writhed until she felt Josh shooting his spunk deep inside.

“What the fuck? What the hell are you doing?”
“Carmelo! Stop that! You have no right! This is private!”
“The hell it is! No wife of mine is going to read this filth!”
“It’s not filth Carmelo! I wrote this for publication, for money!”
“You wrote this perverted trash for money? Money? You whore!”
Corrine slapped her angry husband. “How dare you call me a whore? I am the mother of your children and if I’m a whore then you’re a pimp!”
“You’ve gone too far this time Corrine. I’m the man in this house and I decide what my wife does.”
“Bullshit! I don’t have to take this crap from you! Let me go! I’ll call the police.”
“Fine Corrine, call, but first, I’m going to teach you some long overdue manners!”

Corrine felt herself rapidly thrown over her furious husband’s knees, dress tossed over her head and panties thrown on the floor. Carmelo’s large hand descended in rapid-fire order on her naked bottom punctuated by his stern lecture on proper behavior. Corrine squealed and bucked but her husband had little problems keeping her in her place. “I should have done this on our wedding night! You will obey me Corrine or I’ll spank you every day, twice a day for the rest of your life! Is that clear?”
“Yes sir!” Corrine choked out.

After more than half an hour of spanking, Carmelo threw his weeping wife on their bed and stalked out slamming the door behind him. Corrine reached back and gasped as she felt the heat pouring off her battered ass. Gingerly rolling over she swayed to the bathroom to observe the damage.

“Roxy? It’s Corrine. Don’t bother with ‘Over the top’. I’ve got a new story to write: ‘Disobedient and beaten wife’. Yeah, it’s personal, very personal.”

Sometimes I doubt my sanity

March 23, 2010lurvspanking2 Comments

Listening to Pink is a mistake: when you’re in a bar at closing time. What she can sing about is not what I should say when I’ve been drinking since ten the previous night. Why drink? Hell, it’s not like I like the taste. But the freedom it offers. Haven’t you always wanted to say whatever the fuck you wanted to whomever you wanted whenever you wanted? Like it’s the buzz, the release of that nattering nanny – aka Mommy Dearest – who is always telling you to keep your knees together and your underwear clean. Hey bitch! I don’t wear underwear anymore! So there! I drink because I’m a powerful modern woman who takes no prisoners. Gurls rock! I LOVE YOU PINK! OK. Hangovers suck. Especially since all my BFFs have betrayed the code and gotten married to “He’s so sweet and nice and so romantic.” Fuck you! I don’t need you to hold my hair back. Rubber bands work just fine. I don’t need romance and flowers and hearts carved in trees. If I want sex, I take it. No man has ever turned me down I’ll have you know. I use them and toss them back into that cesspool known as dating. I don’t date. I fuck. I fuck in the day, at night; whenever and wherever I want. I can’t believe they busted me for public indecency! Are you fucking kidding me? I’ve blown over half the cops in this crappy town and now they suddenly get all righteous on my ass? WTF? Hey! I got a great ass if I do say so myself and I do say so myself even if it’s currently parked in the slammer between a hooker and a druggie. Excuse me? Alcohol is legal and so is sex: the last time I checked it was still a free country. Everyone has sex but everyone acts like the biggest frigging prudish hypocrite when they actually see something sexual going down. Did I mention I like going down? Please. Like any guy would turn down a blow job from a smoking hot chick like moi. That’s french for ‘me’ in case you were wondering. I am an international woman of mystery. But I wouldn’t blow Austin Powers on a dare. Five hundred? Maybe. Fine. I’m picky, so sue me. It’s not like I’m desperate or anything. We are way off the beaten path in this podunk excuse for a community, but there are still enough guys, married or otherwise to go around. Believe you me, they get around, I have the pictures to prove it. Did someone say pictures? I meant memories. I would never stoop to shooting a porno flick. I mean I could, I am a dynamic sex goddess even if my name isn’t Crystal Kneepads, but you know, making money off my body doesn’t seem right. Food and drinks are good, jewelry and gift cards are better, but straight cash seems tawdry and cheap. Sorry if that pisses you off honey but I like to choose my partners. Really? Judge Myers? He does what? That pervert! I can’t believe it! What? It beats a couple of years upstate? How many times have you… that many? Why do you keep coming back? You like it? WTF? Why would anyone like to be spanked? Cause it feels good? OK. If you say so. Damn. I have got to get outta here. Stuck in jail with bimbos who like to get spanked by a judge in lieu of prison time. That’s french for ‘you’re fucked so bend over and take what’s coming to you’. Oh well. I guess it’s better than being some dykes bitch. Maybe Judge Myers would accept a blow job instead. Haven’t done him yet. Always thought he was kinda creepy. Who knew?

Too many men want my bottom

March 17, 2010lurvspanking3 Comments

You’d think she’d be happy. Men walked into walls as she sashayed by, hips twitching the short skirt tightly bunched around the best ass they’d ever seen. Teasing looks, double entendres and some not so subtle come-hither smiles usually resulted in all the wrong men for all the wrong reasons. Violet loved a good fucking now and then, but being bent over and sodomized lost its thrill after the fiftieth time or so. That’s all men wanted from her. No blowjobs, no cunt fucking, certainly no going down on her, just bend over and spread em. They were obviously watching too much Rocco. Didn’t they know a woman’s bottom was actually made for only one thing? A good hard spanking, preferably with a thick leather belt or paddle until the ass was fire engine red and so hot you could cook eggs on the surface. Then, after setting the stage, a good fucking became a great fucking. Too bad men were such dorks. What did Violet have to do? Wear a skirt saying ‘Spank Me’ across her bottom?

Perhaps a spanking wouldn’t be the worst thing…

January 15, 2010lurvspanking3 Comments

Not that she really wanted a spanking. They hurt, especially the paddle when swung with purpose from behind by a stern man determined to enforce the rules on her bare bottom. Rules she’d suggested, rules she bent, twisted, spindled and ignored whenever she knew he wasn’t aware. Somehow though, his naughty radar always found out her transgressions and very shortly afterwords, she would be bent over, naked from the waist down and be punished until he decided the redness fit the crime. It wasn’t a crime to smoke, or cuss, or be late, or… any of the hundreds of rules both significant and petty she’d drawn up over a period of weeks in a fit of determination followed by frantic backsliding. Too bad he wouldn’t budge, not an inch, not one single stroke pulled in the name of mercy. She wanted spanking, she demanded spanking: Far be it for him to go back on his word. She knew his word was bond, but did he have to be so perfect? Couldn’t a girl mess up just once without a sore bottom the result? Evidently not. Forgetting the mail was one thing, forgetting to pick up the kids after school was not acceptable. Before dinner, the children doing the normal electronic immersion it was off to the woodshed and a date with the following: A padded sawhorse, leather restraints, rubber bit and a three-tailed tawse due to impact one hundred times. Still… when she’d realized she’d forgotten and rushed off to the school only to find her children gone, her terror and shame were more painful than any spanking he could ever inflict. The look in eyes when he’d brought them home: She wanted to crawl away and hide. Strapped face down, completely nude, nipples clamped and butt plugged, she looked forward to the scorching stripes about to decorate her bottom. Maybe, just maybe, this time ‘it’ would finally kick in and she’d change for good. If not… well, there was always the cane.

The ball drops

January 4, 2010lurvspanking1 Comment

The animal pulse rose with the passage of every minute. Nearer to midnight and nearer to the sanctioned unleashing of social passion. The second seating was cleared away and couples filled the parquet, swirling to frenetic mixes and beats. Clutching her champagne, Alli felt completely out of place: A drab hen amongst birds-of-paradise. The very air was charged with attraction as men and women grew ever bolder under the strobing glitter balls draped with mistletoe. Bumped and jostled, Alli gradually was forced against the far wall, strangers taking kisses without consent, eyes undressing her, hands roving her curves. Tears shimmered above her purple shadow, crimson lips trembled, arms defensively crossed and she was on the verge of full-blown panic when the press suddenly eased. Firm hands draped her bare shoulders guiding her numb feet safely away from the frenzied mob chanting down the waning seconds to unbridled licentiousness.

Abruptly the sensual roar was silenced by clanging doors. Alli’s ears rang and her emotions gave way. Turning into her savior, she wept loudly with released fright and relief. Long arms wrapped her close, fingers stroked her hair, then steadily lowered her zipper, the scrap of black fabric falling in a dark puddle at her burgundy stilettos. Shocked, Alli opened her mouth to protest, but words were swallowed by hard lips and probing tongue. Her bare breasts crushed against silk, rough hands kneading exposed buttocks, Alli wanted to run, needed to stay, hoped nothing would happen and prayed everything would. She felt overwhelmed by the sheer masculinity holding her tight and her sex flowed in response to his unspoken demands. He led, she followed. A path never taken, for Alli was innocent in all ways. Her very first New Year’s party and now, half-naked, in a dark room with someone who she didn’t know, hadn’t spoken and was intent on taking his pleasure in her unsullied body.

Alli stared out into the night lit by skyscrapers. On her stomach, her thong lowered to her ankles, thighs forced apart and then, male fingers carefully entered her. She tightened with instinct, he grunted, she gasped, he asked, she answered yes, a virgin. To his disbelieving statement, she grew indignant, a woman should be able to do what she wants without fear of rape. A long pause, the world stilled, the tension rose before the storm broke. When Alli felt him withdraw, she protested, still prone, still offered sacrifice, he declined, she was crushed. Rejection stung worse than ever. She knew she was nothing special if a man, this man refused to take her only gift. Rising, Alli was brusquely shoved back down on the desk, hips locked on the edge, she heard a whisper of cloth, then, his hand firmly holding her small of the back, a streak of fire across her proffered bottom.

Her reaction was delayed, the belt whipping her several times before giving voice to her needs. Guttural moans rose from her swollen throat, fingers gripping, pushing up with each stroke, begging him with primal movements to continue, to hurt her, to make her a real woman. He complied, the leather painting her flesh, his hands fondling the dampness, his desire to punish subsiding and his desire to rupture growing. Alli rotated her hips, both cooling the burn and heating her womb. Brokenly she pleaded, please take me, please take me: A last flurry of blows, sharp smacks with his hand. Too hard to wait, too aroused to care, he eased into the virgin opening and, grabbing her hair, thrust hard through and into her channel. She screamed in pain, back arched, head raised, his stomach slamming her sore bottom, he waited as she rippled in shock. Tentatively he withdrew, clinging, she sucked him back. Her secretions eased his motions, her arousal transmuted pain to passion, his rapid strokes met with timid gyrations turned frantic. Beyond anything Alli had ever imagined, having him inside her brought her out of herself and freed her suffering soul.

The hand does not make you down*

November 29, 2009lurvspanking4 Comments

*A football term

The CLANG reverberated through the house. Charles glanced up with irritation from his magazine. Tsao was still in a snit over his decision to attend the business conference without her. He’d made no promises when they’d gotten married soon after meeting in Singapore. Returning to London with exotic wife in tow had been met with great surprise, but Tsao soon won over his most jaded companions. Compliant and eager, she was also twenty years younger than him and her drive was based on a modern ethos he had grown rich from but had never been a part of before.

After seven months together he smiled whenever he thought of her golden skin flushing as she came with wild shudders. But lately; she’d withdrawn subtly. He tried the usual bribes [furs, jewels, cars] to no avail. Even fronting her fashion line failed to tame the widening schism. Tonight the loud noises from the kitchen drew a scowl on his lined face. Enough was enough.

Entering the kitchen fully prepared for a calm adult conversation, he was stunned to see the carnage. Pots, pans, flour covering the granite countertops: She’d destroyed the ambiance in her fury. “What the fuck is this?”

Tsao stared defiantly at her husband. “THIS! This is your fault Charles! You ignore me and treat me as a piece of furniture! I am woman! Not some cheap whore trotted out for your lecherous associates.”

Charles burned with anger. Tsao went too far. Way too far. He lunged across the slick tile floors, grabbing her arm as she slapped at his hand. Dragging her as she shrilled oaths, he seized a wooden paddle off the damaged counter. Sitting down on a tall bar stool, his petite wife was no match for his dominance: Nor were her designer dress and panties any protection from his righteous rage.

This time, the hard smacking noises in the kitchen caused howls of anguish from the trapped woman. Her silken bottom quickly flared red as Charles pounded out his frustrations on her perfect orbs. “I should have done this on our first date!” he growled.

“I never would have come back if you had!” Tsao yelled back.

Charles’ response was a flurry of sharp pops causing high-pitched squeals and rapid kicking of dainty ankles. He didn’t stop spanking his wife until she was sobbing loudly and her bottom was the color of cardinal. Hanging limply, Tsao didn’t answer Charles when he asked her if she’d learned her lesson. He smacked her twice with his hand.

“Yes sir! I have learned my lesson. Please don’t spank me anymore.”

Charles picked up the paddle off her back and told her she was getting five more hard swats. She moaned, but didn’t resist his final punishing lesson. Charles was quite content with his actions and the grateful blowjob and sex that followed. Perhaps he would have reconsidered had he seen, later that evening, when in the privacy of the master bathroom, Tsao examined her bruised cheeks with pride. Her triumphant smile was schooled into downcast fear when he called.

“Yes Master. I’m coming.” Tsao winked in the mirror and softly clapped her hands in thanks to her ancestors.

Black [and Blue] Friday

November 27, 2009lurvspanking9 Comments

Flash Fiction Friday #14 is hosted by Measha this week based on this picture here.

She tried to hide the gifts. It was Christmas after all. She forgot the receipts. He found them. He ordered her into the studio. She waited for him to make music on her bottom. When he was done he would use her bottom in another way for as many seconds as she had charged dollars on her credit card. It was going to be a very long hour of reaming. He hoped she’d learn this time, but honestly, whipping and sodomizing his girlfriend was the best gift she could ever give him. Her tears tickled the ivories.

Spanking a willing woman

November 24, 2009lurvspanking7 Comments

There is nothing better. To feel the weight of a willing woman bent over your lap, running your hand over her bare bottom and knowing she wants you to spank her. I could do that all day long. 🙂

“Carving the bird”

Laura always looked forward to the annual family holiday gathering at her parent’s house. This also happened to be the very first time she’d be bringing a ‘date’. Josh had agreed to meet the folks and they were giddy their ‘little girl’ was finally seeing someone. Laura knew her mother was probably already planning the wedding, but she and Josh planned to wait until after they both graduated and decided on career paths. They’d both seen too many relationships founder over jobs and kids. There was time.

Josh wasn’t too happy about sleeping apart, but her parents were rather old-fashioned. No ring, no sex in the house. They’d thought about a hotel, but decided a long weekend apart during the night would be good for them. Besides, there was always the backseat if they got desperate. There was one thing though Laura was going to miss: Her nightly spanking. When Josh first mentioned spanking, Laura was thrilled and the reality far exceeded her fantasies. He was firm, no-nonsense and kept her in place until he decided she’d had enough.

It shocked Laura hours after the first night’s dinner, when her parents asked Josh to join them in the den for a friendly chat and they then asked him quite bluntly if he was in charge of their daughter. He coolly replied that he was and said he understood the reasons for sleeping apart, however, he would appreciate some time alone before bed in order to stress to Laura who was in charge in their relationship. Laura blushed bright red when her mother asked curiously how Josh stressed that to her daughter and he casually said ‘I spank her every night’.

Her father cleared his throat and nodded to Josh before agreeing that Laura definitely needed a firm hand at her tiller in order to keep her level. He launched into several tales of misadventures Josh hadn’t heard before and raising an eyebrow, he looked over at Laura in surprise. She refused to look at Josh until he spoke sharply. At that point, her mother suggested they leave them alone in the den to ‘discuss’ the situation. ‘Take your time Josh. Laura can be quite stubborn and it takes an effort to get the lesson across.’

Before Laura could object, Josh patted his thigh and as her parents hugged her and slipped out the door, all Laura thought about was having everyone in the family hear her getting spanked. She wanted to sink through the floor, but she didn’t hesitate to lie over his knees and made no objection when Josh raised her skirt and lowered her panties. Bare bottomed she waited for her lover’s hand to descend on her needy skin. The only thing better – admitted only in the privacy of her mind – would be to be bent over the family couch watched by all her relatives as she was severely thrashed with Josh’s belt.

Holiday feast

November 22, 2009lurvspanking4 Comments

Every year was worse than the last, more stress, less fun and harsh words with the in-laws. He wanted her to relax, but nothing worked. Desperate, he finally swallowed his pride and asked his mother for advice. He was shocked when she said, quite frankly, that his wife probably needed a good spanking. He couldn’t believe his own mother would suggest a spanking! When she told him to talk to his father, he did, eventually, afraid of what he’d hear.

In a daze, he hung up the phone and wandered aimlessly until he stumbled into the kitchen. His wife was swearing loudly trying to bake the perfect pie and breads for Thanksgiving dinner. He shook his head, clearing the images of his parents doing it… he shuddered, but decided to take action at long last. He grabbed his wife round the waist and dragged her away from the stove. She shrieked and protested but he paid no heed to her vociferous complaints.

They got much louder when he firmly placed her over his knee and began soundly spanking his now angry wife. By the time he’d finished, she’d threatened everything from sharp knives to calling the police. Letting her up, she stormed off upstairs, slammed the bathroom door and stayed there for nearly an hour. When she carefully walked back downstairs, he was waiting with open arms. She accepted his hug, and asked quietly why he’d spanked her. Because you needed the release.

He wondered what she’d say.

She replied simply, ‘you’re right.’

Spanking turns her on

November 16, 2009lurvspanking11 Comments

The Sweltering Celt runs Microfantasy Monday and this week for #54 her prompt is games.

A holiday party:
Thirty guests:
Cheesy music:
Spiked punch:
Mistletoe: with a twist:

She’d invited all her friends – those into spanking that is – with the stipulation they each bring a favorite implement of correction as the price of admission. When everyone finally straggled in she and her husband gathered them in the living room. Hanging from the ceiling fixture was a large bunch of fresh mistletoe. Underneath: a chair and a coffee table covered with a festive cloth. The rules are simple she told her friends. Please place the implements you all brought on this table. For the rest of the party, anyone standing under the mistletoe is to be spanked five times by the first person to grab them. At the nervous giggle from the crowd, she smiled. Of course you may need a round or two of punch first, but I hope by the time dinner is served, everyone will be in the proper holiday spirit. So saying, she slid under the mistletoe and waited for her husband. To her shock, the first person to grab her was her best friend Gale, a fellow submissive. Quickly sitting down, Gale drew her across her lap and picked out a leather crop. Whacking her hard five times, her friends counted and cheered when blushing, she stood up catching her husband’s eye. He shrugged and winked. Soon, all their friends were playing a game of musical chairs, the soundtrack, hard spanks and laughter. When the clock struck ten, she tapped her glass for attention. I forgot to mention. For the next thirty minutes the game has changed. Anyone standing under the mistletoe can select any other sub and spank them ten times.

buy you a drink?

November 15, 2009lurvspanking2 Comments

I recently read an article where it stated we decide the compatibility of a potential mate in less than a second. Overall it takes no more than three continuous minutes of interaction to determine if a relationship is possible.

How does this relate to spanking? Are the criteria the same? Or completely different?

She was lonely. Too quick to judge – no, no, no, hell no! – no, no, no… Too impatient for even speed dating, she was leaving when the scent of him stopped her dead. She shook her head, he took her hand, she pulled away, he swatted her bottom, she gasped, he smiled, she swung, he ducked, she swore, he threw her over his shoulder and carried her away. He’d decided in .7 seconds to take her, she’d decided in .3 to run, but he was too strong. She discovered later, patience was a virtue, instilled one spank at a time, one lecture after another. After three minutes, she was no longer lonely, he was no longer solely interested in spanking. Another success for the Tri-Cities SpankoMunch.

Posture lessons

November 12, 2009November 12, 2009lurvspanking4 Comments

FFF#12 at The Daily Toast is based on this picture here and should be a drabble of exactly 100 250 words this week only.

Vivian shook when she entered the room. Mistress Violet was stern, if fair and her lessons were always hard. Beginning with deportment and ending with vocabulary, Vivian was discovering hidden depths to her desires. When she’d been approached by Mistress in the mall Vivian had been drifting into a lifestyle of petty crime and hooking up with strangers for the thrill. Offered room and board for a year in exchange for complete submission, at first, Vivian had laughed uproariously. Mistress explained it was such a waste for a lovely girl to throw away her life.

Vivian had been surprised to leave with Mistress. Curious perhaps, she spent the week learning about Mistress’ expectations and demands before being asked to commit. Hesitating, Vivian wondered if she’d be harmed in any permanent way. Assured she would not, but would be physically disciplined, emotionally humiliated and stripped to her core before being built up into a proper young lady.

Even after six months of daily punishments, Vivian still feared Mistress. The chair upon which she sat was very familiar. Mistress had immediately bent her fully clothed over the back of the wooden chair and caned her severely. Twenty-five vicious strokes had Vivian screaming. It was the only time she was ever punished while dressed. Her routine was the same: an over-the-knee spanking at breakfast, strapping for lunch and a flogging at dinner. The cane was for whenever she was placed in the chair to contemplate her errors. It was now time to atone.

Trying too hard

November 9, 2009lurvspanking4 Comments

An adult story about spanking, read with caution

She frowned before she pressed send. If he found out… he’d always threatened to tan her hide good… she sighed with frustration. Being good was too hard. She tried, she really tried to avoid the temptation, but the more she read, the more people she met, the more dissatisfied she became with him. Realistically she knew it wasn’t his fault she’d changed the rules mid-marriage, but why was he so dense? Why did she practically have to cheat on him in order to provoke a reaction?

Two days later, two days too late to turn back she paced outside the seedy motel room. Angry he’d forced her into this by ignoring her needs – unspoken as they were – but still, he should’ve known! Why else drop subtle hints about wooden spoons and leather belts? Was her husband brain damaged? Why couldn’t he just spank her? Fulminating she failed to notice the door opening inward. A voice spoke to enter: if she dared.

Sniffing, she dared and entered the dark room only to find… him… angry as ice staring at her as if she had betrayed everything good in their marriage. She had and her plummeting stomach nearly retched with fear. He raised his hand to her, she flinched, then turned back waiting for the deserved blow. Instead, a gentle caress caused her to burst into tears. When she stopped, her escorted her home, back to the safe place she’d violated with her longing for spanking.

Her longing was finally fulfilled that night. Bent over her husband’s knees, she discovered by trying too hard, she’d earned a punishment she’d remember forever. Next time she vowed, she’d send a snail mail instead. He was too sneaky! But, at least he had a hard hand to go along with his hard head. Funny, crying was supposed to make you feel better. Someone forget to tell her bottom.

Fear of pain

November 7, 2009lurvspanking5 Comments

An adult story about spanking, read with caution

She tensed, winced, squirmed. His hand was so hard and her bottom so tender. She wanted a spanking, asked for a spanking, needed a spanking, but the pain was unexpected. She almost told him to stop… then… the pain became confusing. It hurt, it stung, his hand battered her cheeks and turned her insides to mush. Without thought, her hips rose, legs spread, aching for the ache to continue, to intensify. When he slowed, she whimpered, when he went faster, she moaned, when he hit her hard on her sit spot she screamed. A lap dance in reverse, her motions were fluid and random, seeking an elusive peak. When the paddle replaced his hand, she held her breath in shock. The pain was scary – scary good – and she never wanted him to stop beating her ass. The fear of pain made the high exquisitely beautiful. A floating, soaring, diving pain: roiling her blood and wetting his pants. Her loss of control extended her discipline beyond her perceived limits. Crashing through the barrier of fear, she found her soul deep within the safety of his strong hand punishing her hard.

Anticipation makes her wetter

November 5, 2009lurvspanking3 Comments

FFF#11 at The Daily Toast is based on this picture here and should be a drabble of exactly 100 words.

He’d unclipped the leash but kept the blindfold. She strained to hear, then felt his hand caressing her hot bottom. He drew a lone finger along the welts left by the cane: she squirmed, not away, but a mute plea for more. She didn’t deserve his cock in her, but he stroked his hard length, watching her beautiful mouth. In his other hand, a small paddle struck in steady rhythm. Her gasps, his quickening breaths and squishy rubbing: ragged smacks, all noises of passion. Twisted on her side, red lips pursed slowly open and closed eagerly awaiting his tasty sperm.

Spanking holiday

November 4, 2009lurvspankingLeave a comment

Due to the slow economy donations to many charitable organizations have been greatly reduced. In order to spur more contributions the first Monday in December is now an official Spanking Day. On this day, those who choose to participate will gather at a designated location and display the pledge cards they have filled out. Volunteers from various local charities will be on hand to administer the spankings and collect the money. All money raised will be tax-deductible and as a bonus, all spankees will be given a $2,000 tax credit for the following year as a thank you. Please consider requesting a pledge card and get out there to sign up as many donors as possible. The number of spanks received will be based on a sliding scale with 100 the maximum number of strokes. This holiday season, bend over for charity and remember, ’tis the color red we love the most.

How do you write a fantasy about someone you don’t know?

November 2, 2009lurvspanking6 Comments

Microfantasy Monday is the creation of Sweltering Celt. In honor of the one year anniversary of her prompt, she asks the following:

I want you to write a microfantasy involving me this week. Sure, you don’t have to follow the theme if you don’t want, but those of you that DO follow the theme and post your microfantasy by Wednesday (hey, if I can’t post on time I can’t expect anyone else to every week!) will be entered into a little celebratory contest. The winner of the contest will have come up with the most creative, exciting, and makes-me-want-to-try-it microfantasy. (let’s say less than 500 words)

Here’s my problem. This is only the second time I’ve participated and how do I involve her when I know nothing about her?

———————————————————-

“Picking up a stranger”

Her green/blue eyes drew my attention, but her full-figure made my mouth water. She was with a group, it appeared to be two couples, but I was puzzled as to who belonged to whom. They all seemed ‘together’ in a way that bespoke of long years of intimacy and trust. She glanced up and caught my interest in the bar mirror. She smiled and winked, so quickly I almost missed the flirty look. I gulped, it was one thing to admire discretely, quite another to be confronted. She leaned over to the man next to her and murmured in his ear. Placing her napkin on the table, she gracefully rose and made her way to the rear of the restaurant.

I casually followed, lingering in the hall, waiting for her to emerge from the facilities. When she did, she studied me carefully before leaning against the wall, arms folded and head questioning. I swallowed, nervously moistening my mouth. “Hi.”
“Hi.”
“I was wondering if you are single.”
“No.”
“Oh.”
“But I am available, for the right fantasy. Care to take a chance?”

My eyes must have bulged because she smirked and started to move past me. Reflexively I reached out and barred her path. When she opened her mouth, to speak, to scream, I quickly covered her with my hand, her tongue slick in my palm. She struggled, not very convincingly, so I pinned one arm behind her back and pressed her against the wall. “Is this a good start?” I asked.

Her eyes widened, not with fear, but with interest. I felt her head nod under my hand, so I took that chance, and removed my fingers from her mouth. She gasped for breath, but said nothing, only writhed around my body. “Shall we return? I think your companions are probably worried.”

Returning to her table with me in tow, I was met with three pairs of interested eyes, several fairly hostile. She briefly spoke of her challenge and the eyes quickly turned amused at my expression. One of the men asked me, “So what do you plan?”

I glanced around the restaurant; it contained scattered couples and singles. “Does she often behave this badly in public with complete strangers?” When I received affirmative gestures I said, “Well then. Since she is naughty in public, she should be punished in public.”
The green-eyed vixen protested but all three of her ‘friends’ enthusiastically agreed with my suggestion. Rather than helping however, they sat back, quite relaxed and eager for the show.

I chose an unused table close by, clearing off all the settings. I pulled the stiff woman to the table, bending her over the edge and binding her hands with a napkin. Pulling her jeans down to mid-thigh, I grabbed a bread tray off a counter and prepared to punish the naughty girl. The restaurant was completely silent for the next twenty minutes: expect for the steady popping noise of wood on flesh and the plaintive cries of suffering.

The perfect costume

November 1, 2009November 1, 2009lurvspanking7 Comments

An adult story about spanking, sex and very bad words. read with caution

[This is my longest story at 2,000 words and a stroke story.]

It was the first adult- themed party for them both and they were nervous. He had changed his mind about his costume over and over again until settling on a uniformed officer of the law. Mirrored sunglasses, sharp cap, crisp shirt torn at the bulging biceps, tight trousers, thick leather and studded belt topped off with calf height polished black boots. Completing the look were leather cuffs, Pyrex ‘nightstick’, badge and rubber gloves with lubricant tucked in his back pockets.

She was even more indecisive. The usual naughty ______ did not thrill her at all. Hooker? No. Buttoned-down executive with micro miniskirt? Sigh. What she really wanted to wear was so out of character their was no way she could ever get enough courage to pull it off. What changed her mind though was seeing her husband in his costume, posing in the mirror, steadily smacking the glass nightstick in his calloused palm. Her cunt gushed and her knees buckled. It was now or never.

When she appeared – late for the party – he was growing very impatient. He growled when he saw her costume. A floor-length raincoat tightly closed at the neck. Before he snapped at her though he noticed she was pale and trembling. After a quick hug, they drove to the party. Neither talked on the way, her because she was terrified, he because he was puzzled.

‘Welcome to our Decedent Halloween Bash!’ cried their hosts. ‘Can I take your coat dear?’
She closed her eyes summoning her courage to speak. ‘This officer took me into custody this evening. Rather than taking me downtown to file charges, he suggested I serve off my crime at this party instead.’
‘Oooooh, sounds kinky. What did you do?’
‘Suspicion of prostitution and theft.’ She opened her eyes and said to her husband/officer, ‘I’m ready to serve at your pleasure sir.’

Disbelieving he silently asked her for her consent. When she gave it, he reached out and unzipped her coat, letting it fall to the floor. The previously raucous party went silent at her appearance. She was dressed – undressed – in a black lace and red leather corset thrusting her bare breasts out and molding her equally exposed bottom. Her legs encased in silk stockings gripping her thighs, clearly wet with her cunt cream. Four-inch heels thrust her bottom out perfectly and dangling from a leather harness at the base of her corset were leather and wood paddles.

He gazed at his wife/criminal with an expression of raw hunger. She stared back with lust tinged with fear and that look made his cock grow hard. He grabbed her long hair in his fist and unceremoniously dragged her into the large central room. Cleared of furniture for a dance floor, he threw her to the floor and ordered her to get on all fours and present. Humiliated she complied, her breath coming in short pants. When she spread her legs at his command, the light glistened off her soaking cunt and twitching asshole.

He glanced around seeking a suitable place to continue and his host pushed a barstool into the center of the floor. Quickly arranging the overhead track lighting, there was now a brightly illuminated place for her to perform. He made her get up, barking at her with harsh threats, first sitting her down on the stool so he could conduct a cavity search. Starting with her hair, he slowly massaged and relaxed his ‘prisoner’. Opening her mouth, he stuck three fingers in, gently at first and then rougher and deeper until she started gagging. He scolded her and informed her coldly she’d better get over her gag reflex, because her throat was going to be fucked repeatedly.

He seized her breasts, both rigid nipples clamped between his thumbs and forefingers. Squeezing until she moaned, he pulled and twisted causing her back to arch trying to escape the pain. He continued punishing her nipples alternating with sharp slaps to her quivering tits. They turned red under his harsh blows, but she said nothing but gasps of pain. He paused in his torture to choose a volunteer a woman dressed as a sexy nurse and beckoned her forward. He whispered to her what he needed and she agreed to help.

He pushed his wife backwards into the nurse’s waiting embrace, balanced on the crest of her bottom, he asked for two more volunteers, male volunteers. A pirate and a pimp stepped forward. They each took on of the ‘prisoner’s’ legs and bent them back and out until she was suspended in air, only the smallest portion of her bare bottom still touching the stool. While she was being prepared, he snapped on a pair of latex gloves, lubed them and then approached his spread and crying wife. Without any preamble he thrust two fingers deep into her sloppy cunt as it convulsed. Rapidly sawing his hand in and out, he drove her to a hard orgasm.

When her spasms eased, he asked the pirate and pimp to reach in and spread the whore’s cunt lips as far as they good. ‘Get a good grip’ he told them, ‘she’s leakier than a waterfall’. Pinching firmly, her exposed cunt was red with suffused blood, clit engorged and throbbing. He reentered her slowly this time searching and probing all the way back to her cervix. First one finger, then two, three, four and finally, he drove his fist between her splayed labia and ruthlessly fucked her as she screamed. Her legs, tightly bound as they were, still thrashed. Her head dropped and the sexy nurse took advantage by lifting her skirt and thrusting her own sopping pussy over the ‘prisoner’s’ face.

She’d never tasted another woman before, but combined with the thick fist stretching her, the double set of strangers fingers pinching her cunt lips, any reservations fled with the musky fluid flowing into her panting mouth. She was disappointed when they finally stopped tormenting her leaving her on the brink of another orgasm. She would have fallen off the stool, so weak were her limbs, but her husband/officer scooped her up, cuddling her close whispering for only her to hear. ‘Do you want to continue?’

‘Yeeeeeesssssss.’ He smiled in love and awe for his wife’s newfound sexuality. He kissed her hard, the taste of the nurse filling his nostrils. Savagely they tangled tongues, she writhing in his ripped arms begging to be taken. He asked for a cushion, placed it on the stool and draped his wife over the top on her stomach. ‘Thank you,’ as ropes appeared. At a loss, he accepted ‘professional’ help and listened avidly as a guest securely bound his wife’s hands and ankles to the bar stool. The last touch was a thick strap wrapped around her waist so she was unable to move. As a safety measure, the guest hovered close in case the stool became unstable during the next procedure.

‘I am now going to resume the cavity search of the prisoner. What do you suggest next?’ The loud roar echoed off the walls drowning out the music. ‘HER ASS!’ ‘I agree completely.’ He put on a new pair of gloves, placing the used pair in the prisoner’s mouth for safekeeping. There was a cruel laugh from the audience as she blushed furiously at this refinement. He decided against using lube this time, enough fluids had coated her anus to slid a finger in effortlessly all the way through her rectum. He only used one finger though, twirling and stretching the walls of her rectum. Anal was something they rarely did, so he planned to take full advantage of her helpless position. When he pulled out his finger, he announced, ‘She’s clean.’

Boos and hisses filled the area but he held up a hand for silence. ‘She may be clean, but she still needs to be punished for her illegal actions. Luckily, she brought these handy paddles. How many people are here tonight? About seventy-five?’ He thought for a minute then knelt next his wife’s face. ‘Are you sure you want this? I can try to control the amount of spanks, but you’re going to get at least a couple hundred smacks. After… I don’t know what will happen, I would rather you not have sex with anybody except for oral. I want your cunt and ass for myself.’ She turned her head, kissing her husband. ‘Do whatever you want to do to be. I belong to you. I am truly your prisoner and have no right to refuse your demands.’

He stood up and announced the ‘prisoner’ was now ready for punishment. ‘Everyone here is eligible to give her two spanks with either paddle, but only two spanks. I will drop out of character here to explain we’ve never done anything like this before. My wife has never been spanked, never been with a woman and has only had a handful of prior sexual partners. This is not an orgy and she is not to be abused. However, after the spanking, I will be fucking my wife and her mouth will be available to be used by all present. Make sure you treat her well or you’ll be facing the consequences of my law.’

His speech put a damper on the excitement, but only briefly. Orderly lining up, no mean feat considering the amount of alcohol consumed, each partygoer struck her white, pink, red and finally purple bottom until everyone had popped her good. She was howling and crying by the end, but didn’t ever safe out of the scene. Before he spanked his wife himself, he asked for another two stools and cushions. It was only a short time to arrange the sobbing ‘prisoner’ face-down over three stools, legs still bound, but arms now cuffed behind her back, pulled her head up so her chin rested on the edge of the seat, open mouth waist high and ready. After he whacked her with both paddles a total of ten more times, he motioned the crowd to begin fucking his bound wife. As the first man entered her mouth, her husband dropped his pants and stroking his weeping cock to maximum hardness, buried himself in her ass with one harsh thrust.

Her muffled scream around the stranger’s cock nearly made him shoot his load, but he held off as long as he could which was through six men and four women before sperming her rectum. The continued use of his wife’s mouth kept him hard and he resumed fucking her ass shortly. He drew out momentarily to grab the glass nightstick. Working it deep into her cunt, he then shoved back through her anus. The feeling of the glass sliding against the thin rectal walls was amazing and given he’d just cum, he took his time fucking her this time. She was so deep into her role now, there was no pain anywhere, only an upward spiral of lust broken only by occasional orgasms. By the time the last few men were waiting to blow in her mouth, the earlier hard-ons were back and getting a workout in every willing pussy.

The sounds and smells of sex were overpowering and feeling her husband cumming for the third time in her sore ass pushed her over the edge. The biggest cock of the night rammed down her throat as the glass nightstick withdrew from her cunt and slid into her slick gaping ass. Someone’s vibrator attached to her clit and as she fought to breathe around the thick flesh buried in her throat, the world contracted into a single pinpoint of light and faint noise. Her orgasm lifted the stools briefly off the floor with her powerful spasm. She remembered nothing more.

It was morning when she woke. Groaning in pain from everywhere, the only thing she noticed was the scent of lavender and a callused palm smoothing lotion all over her aching body. She croaked through a very sore throat, ‘When can we do that again?’

Things that go WHAP SMACK in the night

October 30, 2009October 30, 2009lurvspanking6 Comments

FFF#10 at The Daily Toast is based on this picture here and should be a drabble of exactly 100 words.

Hearing heels clicking sharply on polished oak floors, she cautiously opened the door to the empty study to find: nothing. Being alone in the new house – an old Victorian – was making her jumpy. She walked to the window, fingering the horrid blinds. Suddenly, an ice-cold draft: the door slammed shut. Pointed teeth grasped her neck, she screamed as sharp pain repeatedly laced her flesh, strong arms pressing her helplessly against the smooth glass. She frantically thought, ‘they don’t exist! It’s a myth!’ But they did and she was turned that afternoon, forever corrupted, by a paddle wielding Spanko!

Getting past the hurt

October 29, 2009October 29, 2009lurvspankingLeave a comment

An adult story about spanking, read with caution

The sounds had faded, so had the bright red marks. Looking back in the mirror, she cupped her sore cheeks, pulling and twisting for the best view. She avoided her eyes, the shame was still there. That was more painful than a hundred strokes of the cane. Why couldn’t she get past the hurt?

‘Honey, you’ve spent long enough hiding in there. Come out before I put you back over my knee!’