Excerpt He was sitting on a dining chair, pulled out from the table. He reached out and caught her by the arm. He had a powerful grip and compelling
strength in the pull that brought her up close to him. Abruptly, with a confident, upward twist of her wrist and firm pressure applied to
her back, he had her face-down over his knee. She had nothing to look on for reassurance that a normal world still existed but the texture
of the carpet.
‘Go easy, won’t you?’ she said. ‘This hasn’t been done to me before, not even when I was a kid.’
Gary’s next move was to throw up her housecoat so its hem was draped over her shoulders. He also contrived, deliberately or accidentally,
to unclip her bra at the same time. Then he twanged the elastic top of her briefs. ‘I think these had better come off first, don’t you?’ he
said.
Wordlessly she lifted first one hip, then the other. The help let him ease the elastic over the upflung hemispheres of her buttocks. He
pulled the briefs down her legs and slipped them off her feet. So much for that bit of pretty dressing – very short-lived.
‘Oh God,’ she said. ‘I must look awful with my bare bum stuck up in the air.’
‘No way. A great big, glorious peach. We’ll see if the blush can be deepened without bruising it.’
The first slap descended right away. It landed with such stunning force she didn’t feel it on her bottom until after she’d heard the rude
sound. But her whole frame shook and her hanging boobs jiggled and swung. The nipples were instantly erect, teasingly caressed by the loose
cups of the bra. Then the sting made its presence felt in her posterior – just as Gary’s hand delivered a second whack.
A sobbing cry escaped her lips.
‘You’ve been a naughty girl, OK?’
‘O-OK.’
More smacks followed in such a shower she couldn’t count them. Her thinking processes could deal only with the smarting pain and the
indignity to her rump. She wriggled and tried to break free, but Gary had her pinned with one capable hand while his broad other developed a
fast rhythm. He worked over the whole surface offered up so tempting and vulnerable.
‘Oh! Oh! No! It hurts . . . Oooh! Please, no more!’
Melissa pleaded and begged for him to let up, but he was eaten up by the task. He only gave in when some of the glow of her backside
transferred itself to the harder skin of his hand.
She stopped struggling. She let out a long groan and dangled limply across his lap. Despite the intensity of all the other sensations, she
became aware something was poking into her belly.
The spanking had given Gary an erection.
When she’d got her breath back, she said, ‘Fiend! My bottom feels like it’s inflated and on fire. I’m stinging.’
‘You’re supposed to be. What’s more, your bum doesn’t look much different to me.’
His exertions had made scant impression on Gary beside the hard-on. While she was panting, his breathing was almost normal.
‘I don’t think this is the proper way to do it, M’liss, except to very small children. I need to have both hands available. A position to
take a good swing. A weapon. . .’
She gulped as she lowered her feet to the ground and he helped her up. She pressed a hand to her rear, amazed to find its dimensions hadn’t
changed, though its temperature had. ‘Do you mean there has to be more?’ she asked.
‘I think so. You’re just let up for air, a respite. That was more than sixty pounds’ worth of damage you did. We wouldn’t want you to
forget quickly.’
Now she was standing, the warmth from her bottom was spreading to other body parts. Along with his thick words and obvious arousal, her
still-hardened nipples and the quiver deep in her belly told her they were both in an expectant state. Never had she felt so strongly this
way. She wanted to submit to further physical treatment of the most exacting kind. Perversely, her body was asking for more. Punishment,
sex, whatever . . . it didn’t matter. As long as it was laid on hard and strong while the electric energy of burning lust pulsed through
her.
Gary massaged his hand thoughtfully. ‘Take off your coat,’ he decided. Melissa being upright, it had fallen back into position, concealing
her curves and especially her reddened bottom.
Melissa complied. They weren’t prudish with one another. She was used to being seen nude by him – during their lovemaking, for instance, or
when she was in or going to and from the shower. Also, though this was different from those increasingly boring inevitabilities, she’d
lapsed into a state of acceptance of anything that might achieve a continuation of the weird but intoxicating experience of spanking.
The black bra hung loosely from her shoulders by its unfastened straps and it tried to join the pool of silky white housecoat dropped
around her feet. She clutched at it in a conditioned reflex, but Gary whisked it away, leaving her totally naked.
Boobs with jutting tips, her throbbing backside, the V of damp curls at her crotch . . . everything was on display. It obviously thrilled
him, and without any shame it thrilled her, too.
‘We’ve got to have everything just right,’ he murmured. He dragged the heavy dining table into the centre of the room. ‘Get a cushion for
your stomach, put it on the table and lie over the length of it face down. Be prepared to hold tight on to the far edge. No – on second
thoughts, don’t worry. I’ve got a better idea and I need to get something from the bedroom, too.’
He rushed off and trembling she chose the plumpest cushion and put it in place. When he returned, he was toting two silk scarves. And a
soft-soled slipper. He flexed the last to test its springiness. It seemed to meet with his satisfaction.
She had a good idea of what was going to be done with the slipper.
‘Now we tie a scarf round each of your wrists – like so,’ he said. ‘Then we attach the other ends tightly to the far table legs up where
they join the top.’
Melissa found herself stretched over the table and secured in position.
‘Are you sure these bonds are really necessary?’ she faltered.
‘I think they probably are,’ he said. ‘Once we get started, you might find it hard to keep still just holding on to the table. You might
not mean it to, but your grip might get broken.’
He stepped back and examined his preparations. ‘Hmm . . . those legs look good, but they should be further apart and kept like it.’
A quick, second dash to the bedroom equipped him with two pillowslips. He spread and brought her knees forward to meet the other two table
legs – they were set in several inches under the table’s rim – and trussed them there tightly with the twisted pillowslips. Not even her
toes now touched the floor.
Gary stood back and studied the result. She knew the rounds of her bottom were parted and flaunted by the position of her knees and the
support of the cushion under her thighs. He had to be seeing, too, the full length of her crack – the puckered anal bud she’d confronted
herself with in the bathroom mirror and the complete oval of her vulva. In fact, all her nether parts would be jutting up and out from the
table advantageously for punishment.
In her whole life, she’d not been in a ruder position, or one as vulnerable.
‘Makeshift, but it should do,’ he said.
‘Ingenious,’ Melissa quavered. She marvelled at how Gary’s imagination had been unfettered. Was it Mrs A’s suggestions, or her squealing in
response to the spanking that had done the trick?
‘Delectable was the word I was thinking of,’ he said.
In her strange mood of subjugation, being captive and splayed was exhilarating. It was a mix of daring and wantonness, spiced with fear.
Despite the buffer of the cushion, her clit was pressed against the edge of the table. She felt it hardening. She was aware, too, that juice
was seeping from the swollen lips of her pussy. But all of this was about to be overwhelmed by the all-numbing imperatives of a forcefully
applied slipper.
‘Right,’ Gary said, ‘now we get down to the business.’
A swish was followed by a meaty slap as the rubber sole contacted her sore bottom.
The sound and the effect were quite different from the application of Gary’s hand. A hand was far less severe and more yielding on impact.
Her bottom quickly told her a rubber sole met skin without mercy. The tensed globe of flesh seemed perforated with a mass of stings.
Her body bucked and shuddered under successive spanks. At first, she managed to hold silent, except for a gusty expulsion of breath as each
blow delivered its fresh freight of pain, bringing tears to her eyes. But after six or so, she was letting out yelps, which became squeals,
which became a crying that soon grew louder and more urgent.
Gary didn’t swerve from his purpose. ‘It’s no use crying, M’liss. I’m sorry for you, but I’m going to get this job done, and done
right.’
The tears ran down her perspiring face and she grew hotter and hotter. Gary must have found his temperature rising uncomfortably as well,
because he paused to yank off his shirt, which he threw down on top of her discarded housecoat and bra and knickers.
When he returned to his labours, he tried new spots to place his smacks. Maybe her burning bum was getting too fiercely coloured for his
taste. It felt like it was done to a turn. Anyway, the latest targets were situated up the insides of Melissa’s spread thighs. Here the
flesh, though as yet untouched, was more tender. He began just above her knees and worked up towards the creases that marked where leg ended
and swell of buttock began.
She wasn’t ashamed to howl out loud. These places were the most sensitive parts of her anatomy he’d located. She was alarmed. If he plied
the cruel Sorbo any higher, it would be excruciatingly painful.
‘No, Gary, please!’ she shrieked. ‘Not there – not with the slipper!’
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