The ad had read “Wanted, naughty girl in need of spanking, OTK only, no restraint.” The email exchange between Him and her had been brief. The Journey to his house in the idle of an urban Georgian terrace was uneventful.
She stood outside the black painted door and contemplated the brass knocker for a moment, composing herself. Knock, knock.
The bolt was drawn back and the door opened slightly. A voice instructed “Count to twenty and then enter. She counted slowly 1 … 2 … … 19 … 20. She pushed open the door with one hand and stepped inside, closing the door and sliding back the bolt she had heard drawn back moments before.
The hallway was about four metres square, painted white with a black and white tiled floor. A small round oak table stood at its centre. On the table was an envelope with the words “Elizabeth. Read Me.” written on it in fountain pen. Elizabeth opened the envelope and read the letter inside. She replaced the letter and envelope on the table and began to follow the instructions it had given to her.
She placed her holdall on the floor beside her and removed all her clothes, carefully folded them and laid them on the table. The hall was cool and the floor even colder, so cold she thought her feet might freeze to the tiles. Her nipples stood erect and goose bumps covered her body from her areola to her calves.
Next she put on the schoolgirl uniform carried in her bag, white underwear and bra, white blouse and plaid skirt. She finished the outfit with black and white training shoes.
She was ready. Trainers squeaking on the polished tiles she approached the door to her right and knocked.
“Come” came a voice from within.
She entered into a room warmed by an open fire and lit with candles. The space was filled with an orange glow, inviting and relaxing. A long case clock hidden somewhere in the gloomy corners of the room ticked langurously.
Elizabeth ensured that her eyes stayed fixed on the red wool carpet. It was forbidden to look at Him. She walked towards the pair of feet she knew must belong to Him. She stopped when, with her head bowed, she could see the top of his chest. His hands were cradling a brandy balloon.
“So, you are my naughty little girl are you?” he asked.
“Have you been very bad?”
“Yes, Sir.” Her voice was trembling from excitement and fear of what the large strong hands that rested in his lap would do to her.
“Then you know what I must do.” There was excitement creeping in to his stern voice, piercing the faÃ§ade of total control.
Elizabeth slowly lowered herself across His lap.
She felt her short skirt being raised. Five fingers and a broad palm came to rest across her buttocks. He rubbed her, flat-palmed, through the cotton knickers. He caressed and squoze her shapely behind apparently enjoying its fullness and shape.
For several minutes he lingered, at one point exploring the cleft between her buttocks underneath her underwear. Elizabeth relaxed and drifted into contemplation of the punishment to come. The warmth of the open fire and His firm kneading of her gluteus maximus lulling her.
She hardly noticed when the hand ceased its roaming, or when the white cotton knickers were slipped over her hips and pushed half way down her thighs. She felt a gentle breeze on her freshly exposed skin from a long slow, brandy scented breath. Then for a moment, nothing. In that sweet instant in time her mind engaged and accelerated from a dreamy repose to adrenalin fuelled anticipation of his hands first contact. Her heart skipped a beat.
The sound of his hand striking its first blow reached her brain before she felt it. The sensation followed shortly after, not suddenly, but slowly, blossoming like a tactile flower across her exposed cheeks. He raised his hand and struck her again, she yelped. His hand was wide the fingers broad and his technique was to use his wrist with a flourish at the end of the stroke imparting a whip-like searing, stinging finish.
He stopped for a moment, relishing the developing red marks on the white skin of her buttocks.
She waited, barely daring to breath.
Seconds passed, the clock in the corner marking the time, each swing of its pendulum and cycle of its escapement emphasising the wait.
Tic. Toc. Tic. Toc.
Elizabeth shivered with excited anticipation. When would he begin again, when would he give her what she wanted, needed?
Tic. Toc. Tic … Slap.
Ah, the sweet tingling glowing pain.
Slap, she wished she could stand outside the scene watching his hand striking her skin, seeing the redness rise.
Slap, her backside became a fiery furnace, each new kiss of his hand stoking the redness of her hide and increasing the heat in her cunt.
Her crotch became wet and she felt the firmness in his trousers increase.
Slap. Slap. Slap.
The pain was nearing her threshold, tears welled in her ears. She gasped and sobbed.
The spanking ceased.
“Stand up.” He commended.
“Hands and knees.”
She complied, kneeling on the red carpet in front of the fire. She sensed him move behind her. Heard him unbuckle his trousers. Imagined his erect phallus heading for her pouting, wet, pussy.
He pushed himself inside her. Thrusting hard, each contact with her sore buttocks making her gasp with excitement and pain. Then he thrust so hard she fell forward, her cheek now pressed into the carpet, eyes staring sightlessly into the fire, lost in the burning logs and the inferno of her ass.
He pressed her into the floor with each stroke. She came, moaning, shouting, “Yes, yes.”
His hand pressed her between the shoulder blade, holding her down, but the restraint was symbolic, she wanted to be nowhere else but here. Right here, right now, with his cock impaling her and him …. Cumming, yes he was cumming and she came again too, feeling him pump his seed into her.