The Fantasy of a Real Spanking

I'd been to this Starbucks many times before. It was my home Starbucks. Sure, I'd seen lots of cute girls there. I do live near Hollywood, so attractive girls are by no means rare. I never approached them though. I wouldn't quite know how. Do you just go up to one and "meow" to let her know the effect her femininity is having? Doesn't she probably already know? I'm not sure if those questions are rhetorical or just pointless, but I know I'd never done it before. This was different though. I didn't have to design a crafty and obvious intro. It just happened.

I first noticed her when I got in the expected queue for an after-work frozen treat. She wasn't dressed in an obviously sexy way. It was much more subtle than that - but sexy she was. Dark, sultry, with a simple tattoo on the inside of her right wrist, she was wearing a dress that I'm not sure would have been nearly as hot on anyone else. On her it was perfect. The plunging neckline exposed the perfect amount (to me – others might have thought too much) of her perfect breasts. I'm not even a "breast man" preferring, and usually finding myself attracted to, a woman's hips and ass. The dress, although not obscenely short, was clinging in such a way that I could easily imagine the desirable shape of her ass and hips beneath it.

I think she caught me looking. In fact, in retrospect, I know she did. Of course, I had been looking at her ass. The way the thin fabric fell gently down between the cheeks in the center while on the outside it clung and carved a stunning outline, had me, if not mesmerized, then "focused". When I casually looked up to find her looking back, I was slightly startled and more than slightly embarrassed.. The only thing I could think of at the time was to comment on something in the display case behind her close to where my gaze had been directed. Had I not quickly seen a tempting rich marble brownie, I might have spent the next 20 minutes eating a dry cranberry scone.

"Resisting those brownies is always a challenge," I managed.

"I know - delicious," she replied. "If I eat a whole one of those I know I'll feel guilty later."

"True, but if you share one I'm pretty sure it has no calories," I answered in an attempt at light humor.

When she said, "OK, let's share one," I wasn't sure if she had correctly heard the sarcasm I intended or if she was being sarcastic herself. Either way, after I said simply, "OK," we found ourselves sitting outside sipping our drinks sharing the chocolate marble brownie and engaging in easy conversation. I will spare you the details of the introductory portions of our discussion as they are not important to the purposes and intent of this article. Except that I will say that they were important to me. She was obviously intelligent and insightful and had an engaging way about her that made me feel instantly at ease like I had known her forever.

When the last of the brownie was waiting to see who would score the final delightful mouthful, we both reached. Our forks met in the middle effectively blocking each of us from attaining the prize.

"I'll spank you," she said as she pointed her fork at me indicating her intent to have that last bit and the consequence to me if I did not relent.

Before I even knew it had come out of my mouth, it had. "I'll spank you harder."

I don't know how long the pause that ensued lasted, but in that moment the full fantasy that had been struggling to the surface of my mind since I first focused on that material on that ass played itself out for me in its entirety.

"Yes sir," she would begin. "I know I've been bad and I'm here for my punishment," I imagined her saying while standing and facing me seated on a couch.

My only response would be, "Lift up your dress."

I would have her stand there for a bit holding her dress just above her panties while I elicited further "yes sir"s to questions about her knowledge of what was coming and her need for punishment. The questions, of course, are not finally the point of this exercise. It's her standing, submissive, panties exposed, slightly embarrassed and more then just a little worried about how hard it might actually be that excited me.

Then it would be time to begin. After having her lay across my lap with her head resting seemingly comfortably on the short arm rest of the couch, I would lift her dress fully exposing the traditional white panties angling across the cheeks of her ass. I would begin slowly – but still firmly – judging the sting I was inflicting by the reciprocal feeling in the palm of my hand. Her slight yelps and gasps at each stroke would not deter me in the least. The severity of the strikes would steadily increases as would their rapidity and the intensity of the stinging on my palm. She would start to squirm, the gasps would get deeper and she would begin to say "oww" after each stroke. As the speed increased, this would become a rhythmic, "oww...oww...oww..."

"Stand up," I would say when I was ready. Facing away from me, she would instinctively know that I expected her to again hold her skirt at her waist. After reaching up and pulling her panties down to her knees, I would see the beginnings of redness rising against the smooth white background. "You're not done, you know that, right?" I would ask.

Having learned well, she would say, "Yes sir."

After telling her to take off her clothes, she would be standing, facing away from me – naked – until I said, "Turn around." "Hands behind your head," I would instruct, and again she would quickly comply. "Are you ready to continue now?" I would ask, and we would confirm through some discussion that all of this was much needed. Of course, the discussion was still secondary to my glances down her defenseless delectable body which she obviously would be well aware of yet could do nothing about.

"Over the couch," I would say as I directed her toward its side and gently pushed in the small of her back bypassing any second thoughts she might be having about the exposed position she was about to find herself in. Even after her head was on the cushion she would still be supporting her weight on her feet. I would, again gently, swipe her legs out from under her planting her hips securely against the sofa-arm creating a firm platform against the coming spanks. Leaving her in that position to reflect, I would walk to the bathroom to retrieve my bath-brush which I had purchased for just such an occasion and left in the tub camouflaged as a...bath-brush.

Standing myself now in front of the couch facing her in that beautiful position, back arched, ass in the air, I would begin. Smack! The flat back of the bath-brush would connect again and again convincingly with the ever reddening cheeks of her ass. Smack! "OWW." Smack. "OWW." As she would begin to tear up and the "oww"s started to sound more like whimpers, I would tell her that she was doing "so good," that we were almost done, and there were only ten more to go – on each side. Those last hard ones she would have to count. "OWW...one...OWW...two..." The rhythm of the blows would stay constant but the tenor of her voice would not. After the full ten each was complete, I would pause and look at what I had done.

"I don't think so," she finally replied to my suggestion that I would spank harder than her.

"No worries, I can take a spanking too, and, I kinda like it," I replied feeling a little bolder and more than a little horny after my fantasy interlude.

To my surprise, she offered an inviting "Really." And then, "That's good because I like giving them."

"Well, you can spank me any time you want," I ventured.

"Really," she said again, only this time drawing out the vowel sound in the middle of the word, "Any time?"

"Any time"

"Now?"

"Yes."

She stood up and said, "Come with me." Taking my hand she led me away from the table. We walked in silence the two blocks to her apartment building, her slightly ahead directing our path and not ever letting go of my hand. When we got to the elevator, she turned to me and said, "Are you sure?"

I was and I said, "Yes."

Again in silence, we walked down the hall to her apartment. Once inside she let go of my hand and left me standing there not inviting me to sit down or giving any instructions at all. There I stood while she put down her purse and did something in the kitchen. She came back into the room and sat on the couch. I was still standing there not quite knowing what to do, but I did know that she was in control.

"Come here," she said as she reached across her body with her left had grabbing my left wrist and pulled me across her lap. She began spanking me without saying a word. It was over my jeans and it started pretty hard. It stung, but I said nothing. I did feel my cock start to get hard against her leg. Slightly at first, I began to press myself against her harder with every stroke. The stinging sensation on my ass and the weight of my body pressing my cock into her leg was starting to make me a little delirious. Just as my thrusts became distinctly pronounced – she stopped. "What are you doing?" she said sternly. I said nothing. "Does that feel good?" Then...five...quick...hard...strokes landed on my ass.

In what seemed like one continuous motion, she reached around my waist, unbuttoned my pants and pulled them down to my knees. She then continued to spank my bottom over my underwear for what seemed like forever (in a good way) and it began to seem as if she was purposefully pressing up with her right knee against my straining cock each time she smacked me. "You are enjoying this way too much," she said, "Roll over."

"What?"

"You heard me – roll over."

I did, and was now across her lap on my back with my erection pressing against the waist band of my underwear. She reached into my underwear, but not from the top where it appeared my cock wanted to get out. Her hand disappeared into the leg opening of my shorts as she felt around for a good grip well up the shaft of my penis. When she had it, she pulled and twisted it until it was completely through the leg opening. Gripping tightly around the base she asked rhetorically, "You do like this, don't you?"

I didn't answer. I didn't have to. The throbbing stiffness extending well above her clenched fist answered for me. Then it happened. I wasn't expecting it, so when it came it was a shock. Her right hand rose in the air and, without pausing, immediately swung down in an arc perfectly directed so that the rigid extended fingers of her hand connected with the underside of my cock just below the head. She was still holding the base, so the resistance to the blow caused my cock to spring back to its original position as the strike passed. It stung so bad the sensation raced down to my knees and up to my midsection at the same time. I almost came right then and there. But she stuck again. "Count," she said after she had already landed more than just a few more good ones. As my involuntary groans accompanying each tally, "One...two...three," got louder, she said, "Be quiet!" In compliance, I grabbed a throw pillow off the couch and held it tightly to my mouth in a vain attempt to muffle the reflexive sounds which evidenced the intersection of intense pain with intense pleasure.

"Very good," she said as she grabbed my cock in her fist and squeezed, I was sure, as hard as she could. Then, only slightly at first, she started to move her hand up and down. As she began to go faster, incredibly, her grip tightened. She continued to assure me that all of this was for my own good and that I deserved everything that I was getting. Just as I thought I could take it no longer and was about to pass the inevitability point, she stopped.

"Enough," she said, "I need to fuck you now." She stood me up, and never releasing her grip on my cock, led me to the bedroom. For the next two hours we crossed back and forth over the line between fucking and making love. The stinging on my ass and cock that persisted intensified every sensation I was feeling. There was one thing I knew for sure: next time it would be her turn and the fantasy fulfilled this evening will rank near, but not at, the top of the list of fantasies I will share with this amazing girl.