One Hot Minute

I walked past the entrance twice before I worked up the courage to go through the gate. A normal terrace house on a leafy inner city residential street with a door discreetly screened by trees just getting their spring growth. I pressed the buzzer, there was a ten-second pause, and just when I was about to turn around and bolt, it crackled into life.

"Come in."

The door buzzed. I entered to see an attractive redhead, mid-twenties with a passing resemblance to Molly Ringwald, about my age, behind a mahogany desk.

"Good morning. I'm Molly."

She caught my expression.

"Yes, I know. Sixteen Candles and all that."

"Good-" I croaked and cleared my throat, "Good morning, Molly," I repeated in a clearer voice, face reddening. I didn't introduce myself.

"Here for the Hot Minute?"

"Yes."

"It's fifty dollars, you will receive one minute's spanking with a wooden paddle on your bare bottom over the lap, no hand relief, no masturbation when you're in the room. Simply follow all the instructions and it will all be fine." She grinned, becoming less businesslike. "Apart from your bottom, of course. It's quite intense, I'm told."

She had an infectious smile and I grinned back, despite the circumstances.

I handed over a fifty-dollar note fresh from the ATM down the road. I noticed my fingers were trembling. Felicity noticed too and grinned sympathetically at me.

"You're a bit younger than the usual crowd," she said.

"I just want to know how it... feels..." I said, handing over the cash.

"It's okay, no need to explain. Sorry, that was unprofessional, you just looked so nervous I thought you were going to run."

"Thanks, I was," I said, and meant it. She really was cute. "So if I hate it, it's your fault."

"Well, at least you'll know," she said.

There was an awkward silence.

"Er, do I...?"

I mimed unzipping my jeans.

"Haha no! Keep your pants on, I'm just the receptionist! Wear this."

She handed me a thin cotton red balaclava. I put it on over my equally red face.

"Up the stairs and take a seat in the waiting room There are three up there at the moment. Take this number, and when it's called, simply go in and Ms Reid will tell you what to do. If you do chicken out, you may simply leave of course, but there are no refunds."

"Thanks," I croaked again.

"Have fun!" She said. "It's okay to enjoy it! You can even show me the damage on the way out if you like."

"I... er...thanks, uh... see you soon."

She giggled. I wasn't sure if we'd been flirting or not, but in my defence, it's difficult to keep a clear head when you're about to have your pants pulled down and your bare bottom spanked. I'm a reasonably attractive man and pretty good with the flirt under normal conditions, but I'd harboured a secret fascination with the idea of being spanked since I was a teen, and I was finally following through on it. I'd watched videos online and read countless stories and even given myself a good whacking with a table tennis bat, but I'd never been able to bring myself to confess it to a girlfriend. It simply didn't fit with the image I wanted to project, or perhaps I was just a coward.

This morning, I'd watched a few videos of men getting thrashed and googled "am I mad to want a spanking" and up came "THE HOT MINUTE: Need a spanking? Here's your chance. Sunday special: $50 for one minute of hard paddling on your bare bottom from Ms Reid. Leave your embarrassment at the door. Sore bottom guaranteed. Don't die wondering." My pulse raced when it listed an address only one suburb away. I knew I was finally going to find out.

I walked up the narrow stairs, clutching my ticket saying number 9. On the landing at the top, three balaclava-clad men sat nervously on wooden chairs, staring at a wooden door. They didn't acknowledge my arrival and I avoided eye contact and quietly took a seat.

From the room began a rhythmic smacking, exactly the sound you would expect a wooden paddle to make repeatedly striking a naked backside very hard. They came at the rate of about twice per second and I found myself unconsciously counting. After ten strikes the tempo doubled and each whack was followed by a grunt. The grunts became louder as the tempo and the intensity increased and became a frantic wailing at the finish. I'd counted 240 strikes.

We all shifted uncomfortably in our chairs as the whacking ceased and the cries of the recipient calmed down, no doubt contemplating the imminent fates of our own backsides. I promised myself I'd keep silent through the whole ordeal.

A minute or so later the door opened and a man wearing a balaclava exited, carefully closed the door, walked stiffly past us staring straight ahead, then gingerly walked down the stairs.

We sat in silence. A bell chimed and a little red sign above the door just like at delicatessens showed the number 7.

Number seven stood, and walked towards the door like a man going to his own execution, squared his shoulders and strode through the door to his doom. The door closed with an ominous thunk.

Victim number ten appeared at the top of the stairs, glanced around nervously, and then sat, staring at the door with the rest of us.

About a minute later the whacking began. Number seven was less reticent than number six and straight away greeted each whack with OHs then AHHs then OWs and a few OH GODs and PLEASE STOPs which again became quite embarrassingly high-pitched as proceedings reached the crescendo. I was starting to revise my pledge to remain silent when the man who was presumably number eight suddenly got up and made his way down the stairs in a hurry. My stomach lurched. I was next. My fantasies of a sexily stinging bottom had come up against the reality of a grown man in the next room squealing in a fashion not unlike a stuck pig.

What the hell was I doing here? I started to sweat, why would I voluntarily submit myself to something so clearly agonising? I could just go home with an unbruised bottom and only $50 damage and continue to wank along to the fantasy of it.

I was up and heading towards the stairs when number seven emerged from the room, shamelessly rubbing the seat of his trousers and breathing heavily. He clocked the absence of number 8 and me about to run, and whispered as he walked past "it's worth it," and made his way down the stairs.

There was a long wait while I hesitated, thinking how awkward it would be to meet number seven on the way out if I bolted. Would Molly be disappointed in me, was a strange thought. The bell chimed twice and the 7 changed to 8 then straight to 9. Molly had clearly informed Ms Reid of number 8's hasty departure. Fuck it, I thought, it's only one minute. I turned, and walked to the door as purposefully as I could, possibly imagining a sigh of relief from number ten as I went through.

"Remove your head covering, place it on the table beside you and then stand on the red cross with your hands on your head."

The room was moodily lit with lamps in all four corners. Ms Reid was an attractive slightly motherly but blonde, early forties, wearing a purple floral print sundress. She was sitting on a leather upholstered chaise longue and gestured to a table, then to a cross made of red electrical tape directly in front of her on the dark stained floorboards. I suddenly went weak at the knees when I realised she was pointing with a sturdy wooden paddle, oak I think, about the size of one of those beach racquetball bats, which I was about to become very well acquainted with.

I followed the instructions, and stood uncomfortably between her knees, awkwardly close to her considering my raging erection, feeling oddly coy about being bare-faced considering what was about to occur.

"Hands on your head."

"Sorry," I muttered, and complied, uncovering the obvious bulge in my pants, feeling a fool and embarrassed at the same time.

In a thrillingly businesslike manner, Ms Reid unbuttoned my fly, pulled my jeans to my knees then quickly whisked down my boxers as well. My erection popped out like a bad joke at a dinner party, becoming as stiff as I could ever recall. She casually flicked the distended head of my cock surprisingly hard with her middle finger, making me flinch and nearly erupt on the spot.

"Over my knee."

She hitched up her dress took a black towel from a pile next to the chair and draped it over her thighs. In case of accidents, I thought. God, don't have an accident. I was so aroused I thought I could go off at any moment. I tried doing the nine times table in my head to calm things down and nearly missed her command to bend over.

She eased me over her knee and the strangeness of us both cooperating to facilitate my punishment struck me again. It was surprisingly comfortable. My erection was pressed against the soft towel on her firm thigh but the times table seemed to be working and an orgasm didn't feel imminent. I rested my chin on my forearms. She lifted her right leg over my calves and locked me in place. Her left hand was firm on my waist. I couldn't escape if I tried. I promised myself I wouldn't try to escape.

The paddle tapped my naked buttocks. It felt very substantial. I suddenly felt very vulnerable.

"When you turn over the hourglass, I am going to spank you very hard for one minute. It will be excruciating and you will be sore for a couple of days and bruised for up to a week. You may shout and cry as much as you wish, the only people who will hear you are in the waiting room and of course Molly. Please try and relax and accept your beating as it makes my job easier and will minimise the bruising. Some squirming is inevitable, but please try not to carry on too much. If during your spanking you are unable to cope and wish me to cease, say "mercy" and that will immediately end the session. It will not restart. Do you consent to this?"

"Yes," I croaked. I would not disappoint Ms Reid and beg for mercy.

"Then turn over the glass and we will begin."

I was acutely aware of the skin of my bottom as I lifted the glass, hesitated, noticed the trembling in my hand and quickly turned it over.

I felt her weight shift as she raised the paddle. I was about to find out -

WHACK!

I grunted in surprise, which might sound strange considering the lengths I had gone to to receive this spanking, but I had never been struck with the intent to cause pain in my life and even though I had actually paid for the privilege, the reality that it actually hurt was shocking.

I didn't have a lot of time to contemplate it.

WHACK! WHACK! WHACK!

I had often wondered how I would take a real spanking in the unlikely event I ever went through with it. I assumed I would endure it stoically with the occasional noble grunt to allow the good lady to think her ministrations were having an effect. The reality was somewhat more humiliating. I don't know if you've ever been over a lady's knee but if she's holding a wooden paddle and wants it to be memorable, I guarantee it will be. Ms Reid was going full force and I was quickly grunting and squealing like a pig and squirmed like a pig trying to escape as the paddle cracked over and over into my tender bottom, but retained some shred of dignity by not calling for mercy.

I had lost my steel bar I was sporting before the onslaught from the shock of it, but I was still semi-erect. I craned my neck and saw her intently focused on inflicting pain on me, breasts rising and falling in time to her energetic strikes with the paddle. She was really putting her shoulder into it. She glanced my way and her bright eyes met my gaze, smiled and started smacking me even harder, eyes locked on mine. I felt a powerful erotic surge that we were sharing this intimate moment and I got over some hump and the pain started becoming just barely tolerable. She could see me wince with each strike and hear my grunts of pain and seemed to enjoy it. I became fully hard again and looked away, mainly to avoid coming on her lap.

My squirming increased and Ms Reid locked me in tighter with her thighs and free arm and redoubled her efforts. It was like we were dancing to the crashing rhythm of her paddle on my flesh and I wanted it to stop and go on forever.

Then suddenly, it was done. I lay limp over her knee, the only sounds our mutual heavy breathing. Spanking my ass was a nice little workout for her I supposed as the sting in my bottom settled down into a pleasurable deep burning while my skin started to feel quite prickly, all contributing to my almost nuclear-powered erection which I shifted awkwardly, wondering what I should do next.

"Stand. Hands on your head."

Ms Reid released me from her leg lock and gently pushed me off her. I stood with slightly shaky legs and stood to attention, my erection doing the same. She was slightly flushed from the exertion and raised her eyebrows at my straining cock. I wanted her to touch it and was also terrified that if she did it would go off like a fireworks display and I instinctively knew this would not be appreciated.

"One well-smacked bottom! Looks like you enjoyed yourself! Get dressed and put on your head covering and go downstairs. You can take care of that before you go if you wish. You may give your backside a rub if you like, but I will be more impressed if you don't"

I awkwardly did as I was told as quickly as possible, easing my jeans over my sore bottom and put on my balaclava, assiduously not rubbing my stinging hot buttocks even though I desperately wanted to.

"Thank you," I said in a strangely solemn voice.

Ms Reid's mouth quirked in a smile, "Come back any time. It was a genuine pleasure spanking your bum."

She stood and stretched languorously, her glorious breasts straining the thin cotton of her sundress, nipples standing out hard, suggesting she had indeed genuinely enjoyed our little dance. She caught me staring open-mouthed, laughed out loud, grabbed me by the shoulders and firmly turned me to the door.

"If you've quite finished drooling, off you go before I decide to give you a proper punishment, little boy! I have a lot more bottoms to smack today!" She admonished and swatted the back of my jeans hard, getting a little yelp out of me, and I scurried for the door.

I did a stiff-legged walk of shame past the waiting victims, my smacked bottom reignited by Ms Reid's parting slap. I made my careful way down the stairs thinking "my well-smacked bottom". I had finally lived my fantasy of being spanked by a beautiful woman.

"I'm so glad you didn't chicken out!" said Molly. "I saw you nearly do a runner on the CCTV."

She must have read my horrified expression. "Don't worry, there aren't any cameras in the spanking room!"

"The spanking room?"

"Well, what would you call it? Sounded like it got pretty hectic in there."

"You heard?"

"Bit hard not to! Don't worry, Ms Reid likes the screamers, says it lets her know she's being properly appreciated."

"I didn't scream!"

"Haha, don't worry, hardly anyone gets out of there without having a bit of a sing about it. Anyway, we have some recovery rooms where you can take a few minutes to ready yourself to re-enter the world and... take care of any unfinished business." She glanced meaningfully at my hands unsuccessfully concealing the bulge in my jeans. I boiled with surprisingly delicious humiliation.

Molly ushered me past reception to a small room like a large changing room. It had a padded chair covered with one of the ubiquitous towels, a floor-length mirror, a pump pack of aloe vera cream and a supply of hand towels.

"Everything a well-spanked young man could possibly need! Please use the hand towels provided to catch any, er, emissions. I'm responsible for cleaning up. Ms Reid recommends rubbing in some cream to the affected areas and no, before you ask, my job does not involve rubbing anything."

"I wasn't..." I started, embarrassed.

"It's fine, just making things clear. On that note, Ms Reid also recommends a hot cup of tea. Would you like one?"

I nodded. "Milk and sugar please." I wasn't really a tea drinker but if Ms Reid said so, it would be done.

"Just a warning, I do tend to barge in with the tea so if you need privacy, just latch the door. By the way, it's okay to rub your bum, Ms Reid just tells newbies not to to mess with their heads."

With that, she exited and I quickly dropped my pants to examine the damage. My bottom looked just how it felt, glowing red with a couple of bullseye bruises forming. I pumped some aloe cream on my hands and groaned with pleasure as I rubbed it in. I felt an enormous sense of well-being which reminded myself of my enormous sense of horniness and I sat on the towel and started slowly stroking my erection, picturing how I must have looked draped over Ms Reid's lap.

I groaned as the heat in my bottom spread to my groin. My cock felt like a tree root, filling my entire body with hot pleasure as I stroked myself to orgasm.

Suddenly the doorknob rattled and in bustled Molly, clocking me sprawled in the chair, eyes half-lidded with my pants around my ankles, fist around my erection wanking myself off.

"Forgot to latch the door huh? Oh well, don't mind me, just finish up, and remember to use the hand towels."

She grinned and made no move to leave, just took a sip from my tea and watched expectantly.

Fuck it, I thought and got back to it. I'd never masturbated in front of anyone before but it was clearly a day of firsts. I had never considered myself an exhibitionist, but having Molly's eyes on my cock was definitely a turn-on and I was soon reaching for a handtowel. Her eyes moved from my groin and we locked gazes, sending me over the edge in a powerful orgasm, cum jetting hard again and again as I lifted my hips and groaned in ecstasy.

"I do love a screamer."

"I didn't scream!" I protested weakly, still recovering from my shattering orgasm.

"Agh! You missed the towel!" She pointed to a stray glob of cum that had made it onto the arm of the chair.

"Sorry!" I said, quickly scrubbing it off.

"I ought to spank you for that."

"Ah, er..." I was busily pulling my pants up in a vain attempt to retain some dignity and this had caught me off-guard.

"If you're ready to go, the coast is clear. Just put the towels in the basket and I'll straighten up."

She led me to a discreet back exit and opened the door, the bright light and noise of the city suddenly breaking the spell.

"If you're interested, I'll be having a drink or two at the pub on the corner after work around four-ish."

I gaped at her. In my defence, it had been a rollercoaster of a day.

The front door buzzed.

"Saved by the bell!" Molly said awkwardly.

"No, that would be great! See you later."

Her smile lit up.

"See you later, and if you play your cards right, I might spank you for making a mess on my armchair."

And with that, she closed the door and I wandered, slightly dazed, back into the real world.