Over His Knees, Down On MinebyCarolineOh©
I felt sexy, and silly, and scared.
Sexy because, as I looked at my reflection in the full length mirror, I could see how nice my bare legs looked between the short plaid skirt and the white knee socks. But at the same time, it seemed silly, in my mid thirties, to be dressed in a parochial schoolgirl's uniform. And, of course, it was natural to feel scared. I was awaiting my first spanking.
Just forming the word in my mind gave me a delicious, illicit thrill. I ran the notion through my mind over and over again, savoring each word. "I'm going to get a spanking" "I am going to get spanked." Since I was a young girl the idea of being spanked had both thrilled and terrified me. I was fascinated when my friends at school would report that they had been punished with a brush, a belt, or the palm of a hand, and I inexplicably felt a longing for such an experience, while at the same time dreading that such a thing should ever happen to my own tender bottom.
For years I nurtured those adolescent feelings. I would take them out of my memory box late on a lonely night and find a strange comfort in them. But the idea that I would ever realize them did not occur to me.
Then, a few months ago, my good friend Patricia confessed to me that she and her husband had become deeply involved in the local BDSM scene. I was shocked at first, but as she described some of her experiences to me, I grew envious, and eventually, found the nerve to confess to her my own secret desires. I thought that I was just sharing an unrealizable fantasy to a sympathetic listener, but Patricia, a firm believer in pushing the limits, immediately set out to arrange for me to finally experience what I had craved for so long.
The man she had in mind for me was named Henry. He was a handsome, distinguished gentleman in his early fifties who loved to spank women dressed in schoolgirl uniforms. I thought it would be fun to play that part, with my hair in a pony tail, wearing a plaid skirt and patent leather shoes. It made the situation more comfortable as well, since I could tell myself that it was a character I was playing that was doing this, it was not really me.
Patricia had played with Henry several times, and vouched for the safety of the situation. There were two conditions I had to accept, that when I agreed to be spanked, it was for real. This would be a hard, serious spanking, not a few playful slaps. And in return for giving me the satisfaction I'd always desired, Henry would expect a certain satisfaction of his own.
I told Patricia that I would need to take some time to think about it, but in my heart, I knew I would go through with it. I called her the next day and told her to make the arrangements.
Patricia set it up for Henry and I to meet at her house, where I would feel secure, knowing she would be nearby. And so I found myself making my last minute preparations in her bedroom, while we waited for his arrival.
When the doorbell rang, I jumped, feeling an instant well of fear within me. Patricia looked at me with concern.
"Are you OK, Caroline?" she asked. I nodded in reply, unable to find words.
"Look, if you want, just stay up here, and I'll play with him. He'll understand."
"No" I said, almost whispering "I want to do it."
Patricia gave me a quick hug, then went downstairs to greet Henry. I strained to hear their voices, like a little girl listening to her parents. I heard a man's deep soft laugh, and then Patricia's footsteps on the stairs. I realized that my palms were clammy and my breathes had gotten shorter.
"Ready?" Patricia asked. I nodded, and she gave me a kiss on the cheek. "I'll be right here sweetie. He's waiting for you in Jack's den. Now go on, and have fun"
That struck me funny, and I giggled, then gave her hand a squeeze and took the long walk down the stairs. Each step seemed it's own journey. I could feel his presence awaiting me.
I crossed the living room with hesitant steps and entered the den. Henry was sitting across from the door in a big leather chair. He uncrossed his legs as he watched me walk in, and I thought "There it is, that's his lap. The lap I am going over."
I stopped just inside the room, unsure of myself. I kept my head down, and tried not to look right at him, but from what I saw Patricia had been right. He was handsome, elegant man.
"Hello Caroline" he said, in a deep, authoritative voice.
"Hello sir" I said, my voice sounding tentative and girlish.
"Sit down, girl" he said, gesturing towards a straight back chair. I sat, tugging the short skirt down, feeling foolish while I did it. In a few moments he would see more than a glimpse of my panties.
"So Caroline. I've discussed your situation with Patricia, and it seems to me that you are really quite a naughty young lady. Isn't that right?"
His voice was stern but mellow. I found myself responding as much to the tone as to the words.
"Yes, sir" I stammered.
"Well, there is really only one sure way to cure bad behavior. You know what that is, don't you?"
"Look at me when I am speaking to you, Caroline."
I raised my head. "Yes, sir"
"And what is it that bad little girl like you needs?"
"A spanking" I whispered.
"Speak up, girl!"
"I need a spanking, sir"
"Yes you do," he replied, sliding forward in his seat. "Come over here."
I stood and went to him on wobbly legs. My eyes were fixed on his hands. They looked so big and scary.
He took my hand in his, and looked up at me with a kind expression on his face. I stared into his eyes a brief moment, then nodded my head. It was all going to happen.
"All right then, Caroline, over my knees."
I was startled by the speed and efficiency with which he pulled me into position across his lap. One moment I was looking at his face, and in the next I was focusing on the shag of the carpet only inches from my face.
He held me securely across his lap, and rested the weight of one of those big hands on my back, while the other gripped my thigh, pulling my legs into proper position.
"Just the place for a naughty girl" he said, swatting the center of my bottom. "Is that it?", I thought, with a twinge of disappointment?
He quickly taught me otherwise, flipping my skirt above my waist and slapping his flat hand down hard. I jerked up a bit and he firmly pushed me back down.
"You stay put, Caroline, you aren't going anywhere for a while."
He slipped his fingers in the waist of my panties and yanked them down to the middle of my thighs. My face went red as I imagined the view he had.
And then he began to spank me for real. The first smack landed low on my right side, sending a wave of stinging heat right through me. The second hit the other side, and it seemed like I could feel the exact impact of his hand on that one spot for a split second before the wave of pain crashed over me.
His hand set a steady rhythm against my tender flesh, and after a minute or two my breathing was keeping time with them. Soon, the individual spanks became less distinct, each one landing before the impact of the last faded.
I was squirming a little, and giving out a weak whimper every now and then, but I felt that this was not so bad, I could handle this. Henry must have read my thoughts, perhaps through my body language, for that was the point at which he moved up to the next level.
He pulled me tighter against his body, and wrapped his left arm firmly around my waist. If he had not, I might have flown to my feet in reaction to the next rain of slaps. He was spanking me much harder now, and I could no longer control my reactions. My legs were kicking wildly, and tears welled up in my eyes. In response to the pain, I held my breath, and when I finally let it out, it emerged as loud, uncontrolled bawling. I tried to block his blows with my hand, but he easily evaded my attempts.
My head was spinning, and my sobs grew deeper and deeper, until suddenly, unexpectedly, a wave of warmth came over me, and with it, a strange feeling of disorientation. The spanking faded until it seemed like a caressing, and I had the impression that I was floating in space. I felt a great shudder engulf me, then a feeling of greater calm, and realized I had just had an intense orgasm.
I lay limp across Henry's lap. Gently, he lifted my shoulders and I slipped to my knees on the floor between his feet. He held me tightly, caressing my head and back, whispering reassurances. After a few minutes, he handed me his handkerchief. I wiped the tears from my cheeks and blew my nose. He took the handkerchief back and raised my face toward his.
He kissed my forehead tenderly, then held my face in both hands.
"Are you all right, Caroline?"
I nodded and smiled, still sniffling.
"Did you enjoy it?"
"Yes, sir, I did" My voice sounded so weak and childlike.
"Are you willing to keep your part of our arrangement?"
I ran my hands up his warm thighs and across his crotch, feeling the erection straining for release. I unbuckled his belt and worked the zipper down, and his swollen cock sprang out.
"You can see, Caroline, that I enjoyed it as well."
I nodded in response and lowered my face into his lap. His cock felt so hot as I put my lips to the head. I suckled it for a moment, and ran my tongue around the rim. Henry took my head in his two big hands are gently, but insistently, pressed down, forcing his length into my mouth.
I sucked hard, greedily, as he entwined his fingers in my hair. He was breathing rapidly, almost panting, and I could feel his cock swell. He hitched his hips a couple of times, and his hot sticky fluid filled my mouth. I tried to swallow it, but sputtered, and most of it flooded over my lips.
Henry chuckled and wiped my chin with his handkerchief. He hugged me tight and patted my back. My butt was throbbing, but I felt very happy.
He stood, and helped me to my feet.
"Now, be a good girl, Caroline, or back over my lap you'll go. Understand?"
"Yes, sir" I replied.
"Now I want you to go stand in the corner for a while."
I shuffled to the corner, my panties tangled around my ankles, and turned my face to the wall. In a moment, I heard the door softly close.
I felt sexy, and silly, and scared, and it all felt wonderful.