I know you’ve been good all week – staying at home, taking care of business, resisting the impulse to throw caution to the winds and break out of lockdown.
Now it’s the weekend, and it’s time to get, at least vicariously, naughty!
For today’s Saturday Spanks, here’s a bit from “Routine Maintenance”, one of the stories in my Hearts & Handcuffs collection.
And in case you’ve forgotten, this book is now totally free on Smashwords: https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/635210
“Master? Here I am.”
Carlos whirled around. There was girl in the room, on her knees just inside the doorway. No, not a girl, a woman. Her delicate build made her seem young and vulnerable, but when Carlos looked more closely, he noted her small but well-rounded breasts and hips that swelled in an inviting way from her tiny waist.
Her head was bowed and her sun-streaked hair fell over her eyes, so he couldn't see her face. She kneeled with her thighs apart. It was clear that she was naked underneath her black miniskirt. She kept her hands clasped at the small of her back, in a position Carlos recognized from all his BDSM videos. The humble attitude of a slave.
“What—who are you?”
“I'm sorry, Master. Mistress Liza sent me to you for a spanking. She said that she was at her wit's end with me, but that you'd know how to punish me as I deserve.” The woman dared a quick look at him through her bangs. “Didn't she call you, sir?”
“I, um, I don't remember hearing anything from her.”
“Oh, I’m sorry, sir! Please excuse me for intruding. If you'd like me to come back at a more convenient time...”
“No, no, never mind.” Carlos' thoughts stumbled over themselves. He didn't want the girl to leave. But what was he supposed to do with her? Should he tell her that she'd made a mistake? “What did your mistress say about me?”
“Ah, well, she said that you were stronger and stricter than she is, cruel and without mercy. That you'd tan my bottom crimson and make me beg you to stop. That you'd spank me so hard that I truly wouldn't be able to bear it. That it would be a week before I could sit down.”
Carlos' cock twitched at her graphic description. She sounded suspiciously enthusiastic, not frightened the way she should be, if he really were the fearsome Dom that she took him for.
She was offering herself to him. She wanted him to spank her.
How could he turn down this opportunity?
But she was so petite. She looked so fragile. Sure, he knew the basics, but he'd never actually practiced any of the techniques that he studied every night on the Internet. What if he hurt her, really damaged her, not just spanked her butt raw that way he imagined?
“What did you do, slave, to deserve this punishment?” He tried to make himself sound gruff and severe, to disguise his own excitement. To hear the word “slave” coming from his own lips sent a hot sizzle down his spine.
“I—um—I came without the Mistress' permission. While she was paddling me.”
“I see. You're an undisciplined slut, are you?”
“Yes, sir. I couldn't help myself.”
“Well, I know how to teach you a lesson.” He only hoped that he did. He settled himself in the armchair. “Crawl to me, slave. Now.”
She was kneeling at his feet before he could count to three, once more in position, eyes on the gap between her thighs.
“Look at me,” Carlos ordered. She had violet eyes and a ripe mouth that cried out for kisses— or bruises. Her flushed cheeks and quick breathing told him that she was aroused already.
“On my lap. And no wiggling or rubbing against me. If you come while I spank you, I'll hang you up on the cross for the rest of the day.”
Holy mother, he was scaring himself! She scrambled up and flopped onto his knees. She was obviously familiar with this position as well. She parted her legs and pressed her toes against the floor to stabilize her body. Her pelvis rested on his right thigh, her chest on his left. Her arms dangled awkwardly. She didn't dare touch him without permission.
“Hands at the back of your neck. Arch your back.” The shift pressed her cushiony tits against his leg. He wished that she was naked, that they both were, so he could feel her pebbly nipples against his bare skin. But he didn't want to break the momentum by telling her to strip. Instead, he peeled her tight little skirt back towards her waist to expose her ass.
Two half-moons, pale and creamy, with a shadowed crevice between them. Perfect. Unblemished. If she was accustomed to being spanked, there was certainly no sign on those virginal buttocks. Her scent rose from the half-hidden pocket of her sex, musky and feral, much darker than he would have expected. She's a slut, Carlos thought, a pain slut who gets off on being beaten.
He raised his arm and brought his open palm down hard on that milky flesh. Her gasp sent a bolt of electricity straight to his groin.
“Nasty little whore! No underwear, and with such a short skirt.” He slapped her again. “You like pain? I'll give you real pain.”
His palm stung as he smacked her butt as hard as he could, first one cheek and then the other. Each stroke kindled a pink bloom on the woman's bottom, with rosy streaks marking the path of his fingers. Each stroke made her whimper and writhe against him. He hardened in response, unable to control his reactions.
He spanked her harder, aiming for the sensitive spot at the crease where her bottom and thighs met.
She yelped at the sudden increment in pain. “Be still! I told you, none of your tricks. If you come, believe me, I'll make you sorry.”
Carlos laid into her, doubling the speed and force of his blows. He wasn't exactly angry, but he was determined to give the girl the walloping that she deserved. She was a minx, no question. He could understand why Mistress Liza was so annoyed.