Ask me once, ask me twice…

An adult story about spanking, read with caution

This week for Bonnie’s MBS Spanko Brunch #194 she asks this question: Have you or your partner discovered any creative ways to ask for a spanking?

“… and don’t spare the rod”

Anna could have simply asked for a spanking. Leo was, if anything, more than willing to indulge her passion for a sore bottom. But asking was too easy. So was dropping coy hints or licking frosting off a wooden spoon. Printed panties: not very subtle. So what did Anna decide?

Well, each day of the week had a special word. When Anna used that special word, Leo could spank her. To make things interesting, Leo only had thirty minutes to begin the spanking or else he forfeited the chance to spank Anna until the following day.

Anna took advantage of that twist by using the special spanking code word in the most inappropriate places. Having dinner with the in-laws, sitting in church, driving on the interstate just after passing a rest area, Anna was quite creative with her timing.

Leo however rose to the occasion every single time and Anna always had a red sore bottom when returning to the dinner table, the church pew or the passenger seat of the car. The more awkward the timing, the harder Leo would spank. Anna’s ultimate goal was to be spanked in a place she was sure Leo couldn’t carry out the deed.

Turns out the captain of the aircraft was a spanko and when he asked for a vote over the intercom, the majority of the passengers wanted to see and hear Leo do the deed. Anna didn’t know the captain was a college frat buddy of Leo. It was a very long flight for Anna, four hours sitting, minus the thirty-minute spanking observed by all on the plane.

When she used the special code word the next day while sunning at the resort pool, Leo simply rolled her over and ‘touched’ up the parts he’d missed the day before. Her thong bikini matched the color perfectly. ‘Red Bottom Baby’ by Leo.

It’s time for your birthday spanking!

For Bonnie’s MBS Spanko Brunch #192 a gender-neutral story.

An adult ‘vanilla’ story about spanking and sex and very bad words, read with caution

‘I never really agreed to a birthday spanking.’
‘You said for your 30th I could do what I wanted.’
‘Yes, but that wasn’t a spanking!’
‘Too late, I can’t return the gift.’
‘What gift?’
‘This nice shiny paddle!’
‘No fucking way are you hitting me with… ouch!’
‘I’m putting over my lap for your spanking and you’ll stay there until I’m done.’
‘This is so wrong.’
‘Of course the spanking has to be on the bare to count.’
‘That is even wronger… more wrong… no way!’
‘Yes way dear. You promised!!!!!’
‘Shit!’
‘That’s two extra paddles for bad language already. You sure you don’t want to submit?’
‘Damn it.’
‘That’s three! This is so much fun!’
‘For you!’
‘If you don’t want me to spank you honey bear, I’ll let you up. I promise.’
‘Aw, hell sweetie, go ahead and spank me 30 times for my birthday. A promise is a promise.’
‘Actually it’s 35 now.’
‘Grrrrr.’

After thirty-five fairly hard smacks and thirty-five progressively louder yelps, there was one very red bottom with two very aroused people frantically flinging various articles of clothing and the loud juicy sloshing of a good old-fashioned balls-deep birthday fucking.

In the afterglow, honey bear said to sweetie: it’s your birthday next month. I think a cane is on my wish list.

I trust you

An adult story about spanking, read with caution.

When a woman says that to a man or a man to a woman or a horse to a cow, what does it really mean? Trust comes from a combination of time and communication. If the answer ‘I trust you’ comes in response for a request to be spanked, then she/he clearly believes the partner understands the parameters.

What kind of spanking?
How hard?
How long?
Punishment or discipline?
Comfort or sex after?
If sex, rough or gentle?

None of these parameters happen the first time or even the one-thousandth time. Trust is a constantly shifting and updating emotion and both partners are equally responsible for maintaining the harmony.

“I trust you.”
“That’s just it honey. I don’t want to hurt you and I’m not sure I trust myself!”
“Dear, spankings are supposed to hurt. I want – no – I need you to hurt me. I need you to break me down, to make me emotional, to cry, to beg, to scream for mercy. I trust you to take me to that place precisely because I know you don’t want to hurt me. But it’s not hurting. It’s healing.”
“How can a paddling that makes your butt red and bruised possibly be healing?”
“I need to purge. I can’t go on any longer the way I am. I’m emotionally frozen, I eat too much; I don’t take care of myself. I need you – literally – to whip me back into shape. It’s not abuse darling don’t ever think that. I need this from you. I need to submit to you and let go of my stubborn bad habits. I trust you: I trust you to spank me so hard I won’t sit down for a week. And I trust you to do it again tomorrow if you think I’ve earned it. I promise you love, I will never hate you for whipping me, because I accept that my punishments have been richly deserved for a long, long time.”
“In that case. Strip naked… now and get over my knees. We have a long, hard session of bodily harm to inflict on your disobedient bottom.”
“Thank you! *sobbing* Thank you!”

Looking but not touching

An adult story about spanking, read with caution.

“An Office Thrashing”

One of curious characteristics of a spanko is the slow and somewhat creepy way the desire becomes an obsession. For Miles Franklin that desire used to be the usual blowjob under the desk by a hot secretary giving dictation but lately, that fantasy had added a dark twist. Whenever Sarah or Madison or Tiffenee or any other of the very hot, very under dressed and very married women on the 27th floor strode purposely past his corner office, the urge to leap out and grab her by the hair, drag her kicking and squealing face down on his desk and proceed to spank her until she moaned for more: his cock was rigid thinking about the designer wool skirt hiked up around her waist and the silk thong corded around squirming thighs. Sometimes the blowjob came first; sometimes afterwards, sometimes… it went right to fucking.

He sighed. That’s why the last untold numbers of relationships had foundered. No matter how adventurous the modern girl was in bed – very adventurous in fact – they all freaked out when he’d oh so politely broached the subject of spanking. Disgust, anger and threats of lawyers were the various responses. No girl, excuse me, no woman in her right mind ever wanted to be spanked. ‘Beaten? What are you? Some kind of pervert? What’s next? Schoolgirl outfit and whips? I am out of here… Jerk!’

“Mr. Franklin?”

“Yes Joan?”

“A Mr. Stanmore to see you. He doesn’t have an appointment but he states it is very urgent.”

“Alright, send him in.”

Miles adjusted himself: one good thing about briefs, a hard cock could be shoved and bent easier than with boxers… or commando. A business smile graced his rather ordinary features and hands rested quietly on the leather blotter.

“Mr. Stanmore, sir.”

“Thank you Joan. Pleasure to meet you. Please, have a seat Mr. Stanmore.”

“Please, call me George. I apologize for barging in on you unexpectedly, but I have some rather disturbing news for you.”

Miles raised an eyebrow inquisitively. “In what matter?”

George took a deep breath. “You know my wife… Ellen, she works here in Accounting.”

“Ellen Stanmore? I don’t recollect ever meeting her.”

“I’m sorry. I should have said Ellen McCrannock, she kept her family name when we got married three years ago. She’s rather headstrong that way… and… in other things.” George trailed off uncertainly.

“I’m puzzled now George. I have no oversight over Accounting and have only seen your wife at company functions. As far as I know, we’ve never spoken beyond casual greetings. How is this my business?”

“Sir, I realize you are very busy but this can’t wait. Would you mind having your receptionist call Ellen and ask her come down to your office?”

Miles sat back in his chair, clearly confused, but George looked desperate and even a little scared, so he did as requested and the two men waited for ten minutes in awkward silence until Ellen knocked quietly on Miles’ door. They both rose and George went to greet his very surprised wife and escort her to his vacated chair. As she sat down and swiveled to look at her husband, he drew the blinds closed on all the windows and discreetly locked the door. Returning to his wife’s side, he said, “You might want to hold your calls.”

“What’s going on George? Why am I here? I’ve never had anything to do with Mr. Franklin. I have work to do!”

“Ellen. Be quiet!” George pressed both hands firmly on his wife’s shoulders, pinning her in the chair. “I asked Mr. Franklin to meet you because of what we discussed last weekend.”

Ellen gasped in horror. “No! You can’t possibly mean that! I’ll never…”

The sound of a slap echoed in the room as George smacked his angry wife’s face. “I said, be quiet. You know what you did, you know the penalty and you know that I, not you, have the final say in the punishment. Not… one… more… word, or it will be doubled. Is that clear?”

Tears welled up in Ellen’s green eyes and her lips quivered as she gazed helplessly up at her stern husband. He shook her slightly and she broke out into open sobs of despair.

“Pftttt. You’d think she’d never been punished before the way she’s carrying on!” He glanced at Miles, “May I call you Miles? Thank you. Here’s the deal. Ellen broke the rules, her rules, not mine and due to… well, let’s just say ‘past indiscretions’ and leave it at that, she agreed that I would decide how, when and where she would be punished.”

Miles put his hands up and leaned away. “You can’t mean…”

“Yes, right here, right now.”

“Fine George… and Ellen… I’ll just leave and let you, er, get on with the punishment then.”

“No Miles. I’d like you, no, I demand you punish my naughty wife.”

A simultaneous intake of outrage, fear and a good deal of excitement from Miles and Ellen. She shook her head and avoided any eye contact. Miles shook his head and felt his mouth hanging open in shock. “Bluh… bluh…”

“Let me explain Miles. Ellen and I have a D/D marriage that includes other people and other… things. Strictly consensual on both our parts of course and the reason I chose you is because Ellen wanted to be spanked by you.” She hunched over in mortification and hid behind her trembling hands. George gently stroked her brunette curls and continued. “She asked around the office and all the girls said emphatically that you’d never touched them or treated them with anything less than professional courtesy. Even when they sashayed past your office in tight miniskirts you never said anything, just undressed them with hungry eyes. There are quite a few spankos on this floor, but none of them have understanding husbands. You see Miles, nothing gets me hotter than watching another man – or woman – using and abusing my lovely wife. And she: she sheds her stuffy accountant attitude faster than her clothes when a tough guy yanks her chain.” He grabbed the back of her head and twisted Ellen’s face so she was staring at Miles. “Isn’t that right, slut?”

Miles saw the varied expressions flit across Ellen’s damp cheeks and the handprint George had left. Hunger and desire were the most prominent. He stood up, walked around the corner of his desk, then perched his buttocks on the edge in front of Ellen. George rolled her back slightly, still holding her firmly at the nape. Her eyes went straight to the bulge of Miles’ slacks. George hissed, “You like what you see?”

Ellen moaned deeply.

George opened his mouth to speak again but Miles cut him off sharply. “I’ll take care of this naughty girl George, you go have a seat on the couch. I think it’s time someone taught this tease it’s not nice to arouse a hard man.”

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