Erica Scott: Life, Love and Spanking

Ruminations, opinionated observations, darkly humorous blathering and the occasional rant from an outspoken spanko and unapologetic attention wh–, um, hog.

Archive for the month “November, 2015”

Spanking Awards 2015


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I know that not everyone likes contests. I get that it’s not a competition and everyone has something to offer. But I think this annual Spanking Awards thing is kinda fun. The Spanking Spot used to do it, and since last year it’s been taken over by John O. of Triple AAA Spanking. It’s a nice way to recognize the efforts of the performers, the videos you like, the bloggers. And what I especially like is that the Blogger category was recently split into two: News and Creative. Chross will always win for News, and rightly so, but now others can win as well.

You don’t have to vote on every category. Also, unfortunately, you cannot nominate Dreams of Spanking, as deserving as it is, because it’s been taken down due to the UK ATVOD. 😦 But any live site or blog is eligible.

Let’s make this fun and interactive! Go check out the nominations post here.

And don’t forget: Love Our Lurkers 10 is coming this Thursday/Friday. You can read all about that on Hermione’s blog, here.

Sacrilege + a rant

(warning: blasphemy ahead. If that sort of thing offends you, please do stop here!)

I think I’ve already told y’all by now that Steve likes to take my panties home with him. No, he doesn’t wear them. But as for what he does do with them, well, that’s its own fetish. 🙂 I don’t think I’ve ever been with any man, in any capacity, who loves my underwear as much as he does.

Sometimes when he’s leaving, he’ll look down the hall to see if anyone is there, then do something like put them on his head, or drape them over his shoulder. “I’m going to walk out to my car like this,” he announces.

“You are not,” I hiss. “I have to live here!”

So last Wednesday, even though we were both too busy for our usual session, he did manage to drop by unexpectedly for a quickie spanking, which was much needed by both of us. And when he was heading out the door, he stepped into the hall and started dancing around like an idiot, twirling my panties on his finger.

“Steve, for Christ’s sake!” I snapped, trying to grab them away from him.

He pulled them out of reach, then glanced at the doorway of my across-the-hall neighbor. “Speaking of Christ…”

Yeah. She has a cross nailed on her front door. And Steve started going toward it, acting like he was going to hang my underwear on it.

“NOOOOOO! Will you cut that out??”

Steve just shrugged and grinned at me, then pointed to the cross. “Hey, maybe He wants to smell them too!”

“Get out of here!!”

I swear, that man is a sick fuck. But I kinda like him anyway. 😀

Oh, and in a rather neatly executed Christ segue, may I rant now?

It seems that Starbucks has come out with their holiday cups this year. In the past, they’ve been decorated with snowflakes, reindeer, other Christmas-y stuff, plus “Merry Christmas.” This year, they went minimalist. No pictures or writing, but the cup is two shades of red (cherry and a deeper cranberry) and the logo is green. Still Christmas colors, right? All good, right?


There are Christians out there saying they’re going to boycott Starbucks, because SB is participating in “the war on Christmas” by making their holiday cups so plain. In other words… yup. “Starbucks hates Jesus.”

I’m not making this up, y’all. This is real. You can read all about it here.

Are you @#$%ing kidding me??? People are actually making a stink about a freaking coffee cup?? Hello; it’s a COFFEE CUP. It’s made of paper. You drink your beverage, and then you throw it away. Who CARES?

And it’s red and green; that’s Christmas! WTF do these people want? Santa and all eight of his reindeer dancing up one side of the cup, and a full depiction of the manger and all its critters down the other side? Do the baristas need to be trained in how to incorporate Jesus’s head into the latte foam? Perhaps some new drinks and snacks, like Mary Magdalene Macchiato and Cocoa Crèche-pies?

Here’s a good idea, Starbucks boycotters. Take all that money you save not buying those ridiculously overpriced coffee drinks, and donate it to people who have real problems; you know, like they don’t have food and water, let alone their damned plates and cups aren’t Christmas-y enough. And STFU while you’re at it.

Argh. It’s only November 9. I’m not going to last for another two months. Although this little item I just ordered might help.


Rant over. Back to work.

Correspondence Hall of Shame, 11/6

Yes, you read correctly. It’s been a long time, but I have a new collection for your Friday snickers.

I want some of that! Let me thrash your bottom baby!

This one isn’t all that bad, just kind of annoying, but wait until you get a load of his profile:

My Ideal Person You suck my cock on the way out the door, drop in at my office to get laid in the middle of the day and you greet me on your knees at home in the evening…then you fall asleep with my cock in your ass…

If you can keep up with my sex drive, then we should meet. 

You need to be 22-40 years old, exercise regularly, fit is ideal, a gym rat gets you extra points and if you are a body builder even better. 

Two things come to mind:

  1. If I could fall asleep with your cock in my ass, you must have a micro-dick.
  2. I’m way past your age requirement, dumbass. Why are you even writing to me?

Hello, Let’s chat. What do you like. I’m a switch with women and a bottom for CD’s and TS’s.

Well, good for you. What do I like? Try reading my profile, stupid.

Hi was just looking and great photo your a pretty good looking lady must be great to see you in person and smack your ass so how come the one that sleeps with you is not doing his job ? perhaps grab his nuts and give him a talking to?

Not that it’s any of your damn business, but “the one that sleeps with me” is recovering from open-heart surgery. Go grab your own nuts.

i would like to introduce you to enemas and to wine enemas.

In the words of the late, great Groucho Marx, I would like to buy back my introduction to you. Ew!! Thanks, but I’m not even all that crazy about drinking wine. I don’t want it up my ass.

And finally:

Would you be interested in coming to San Diego 11/13 – 11/15 to join into a FMF. I am flying down to be with my sub and she wishes for a beautiful sub to joins us. I had her attend a FMF awhile back and she absolutely found bringing the sub to orgasms licking and playing with her very erotic and wishes to experience again while I am there controlling the play. I have also given her permission to seek out and find another female playmate for while I am away, she lives in Hemet. If interested I will furnish you her KiK or yahoo messenger information to verify. I hope this interest you and look forward to your reply.

How many things can be wrong with one post? Let’s review: I’m not a sub. I’m not looking for sex, and even if I were, I have sex with men, so I have zero interest in your FMF (threesome with two females, one male). The licking I’m into is not of the tongue variety.

Oh, and I don’t usually do this, but I simply must here: the profile name? Sirfukzalot. Seriously??

For good measure, I’m also throwing in some more search phrases I found.

downld vdeo spanking an face sllpping

OK, I get what they’re seeking here. But six words, and four of them misspelled? What is wrong with people?



habanero figging

Are you @#$%ing kidding me? First wine, now habanero peppers? No. Just NO. My colon is not a culinary zone.

spanking twice bitten

Hmm. Wonder if that has anything to do with this picture with Steve’s dental impressions.


Have a great weekend, y’all. 🙂

“Just Ask Me”

No Steve this week, and I am happily slammed with work. I need to be, as my car is in the shop and tonight I will get it back, to the tune of about $1500, maybe more. groan So, in lieu of a session post, I am sharing my contribution to Cassandra Park’s anthology, My First Spanking (available here and here). I was honored when she asked me if I’d like to contribute a story. I had the option of making it fiction or nonfiction; since I’d shared the story of my first real spanking many times, I decided to go for a fun, sexy fictional account of a young woman blundering her way into getting what she craves.

Hope you enjoy it! 🙂

Just Ask Me
(First appeared in My First Spanking, ©2012 & ©2015 by Cassandra Park, ed.)

“He did what?” Tim spluttered, his forkful of pasta stopping halfway to his lips.

“You heard me,” Ally laughed. “It was the end of that evening, believe me!”

She and Tim sat across from each other in a cozy booth, sharing their fourth date. They were at the endless conversation stage, and tonight, the subject had wandered into past relationships. Ally, at 26, had had more dates from hell than long-term relationships, while Tim, 35, had been married before.

Ally liked Tim. He was fun to be with, intelligent, attractive. As always with new men, she listened and watched carefully for clues; hints that maybe, just maybe, he might be the one who could tap into a desire she’d had for as long as she could remember. One she hadn’t talked about with anyone, but had spent many hours in front of the computer exploring.

“So,” she said shyly, poking at her salmon, “what happened with your ex?”

Tim shrugged, taking a sip of his Cabernet. “Typical story—we got married too young. We didn’t really have enough in common to sustain a good marriage, but at the time, we thought lust was enough, you know?”

Ally willed herself not to blush, her eyes flickering to her plate. She and Tim had had sex on their second date, so she knew how powerful that lust could be. He was amazing. “What was she like?”

He didn’t answer at first, gathering his thoughts, helping himself to another roll. “She was a wild little thing—very impulsive, had a temper, always up for a good time. That was fun in the beginning, but it got old when we were married. I was working and still in school, and she expected me to be a constant source of entertainment.”

“I can see how that would get tedious,” Ally murmured. She was hardly a “wild little thing,” herself.

Tim’s lips curled into a half-smile. “We did have some crazy times. She was a bit kinky, too.”

That old familiar lurch in the pit of her stomach reared up, and Ally swallowed carefully, her nerves buzzing in her ears. “How so?” she asked, hoping her voice sounded casual.

He grinned, dropping his voice slightly. “Well, among other things, she loved being spanked. Hey, are you OK?”

Ally couldn’t answer as she pressed her napkin to her face, choking on the gulp of wine that had gone down the wrong way. Tears came to her eyes, but she nodded her head vigorously. He didn’t just say that. Oh my God. Oh my God.

“Excuse me for a sec,” she croaked, and she got up and dashed to the restroom, still coughing. Once there, she ran into a stall, locked the door and leaned against it, feeling waves of heat rising off her face.

How many years had she spent fantasizing about being spanked? All the dates, trying to suss out men who might deliver her fantasy to her, just like she read in the stories, saw in the clips she watched endlessly online. Thanks to her virtual explorations, she knew intellectually that many shared her desires, but she still felt self-conscious about them and had never voiced them to anyone. Instead, she hoped she’d meet a man who would just know. Who could intuit and figure it out. And now, here was this man she thought was absolutely sublime, talking about spanking his ex-wife.

What do I do now? she thought, exiting the stall and standing at the sink, wetting a paper towel and placing it to her cheeks, wiping under her eyes. I can’t ask him about it; he’ll see me blushing purple and think I’m a child. And there was no way she could simply come out and say, “You know, I’ve always thought I’d like it, too.” It was too embarrassing.

When she’d recovered sufficiently, she went back to the table where Tim rose, looking concerned. “You OK?” he repeated.

She slid back into her seat, smiling at him. “I’m fine. Sorry about that. Can’t take me anywhere.”

They went on to other subjects, finished their meal and split a tiramisu. But for Ally, the conversation was a blur and the food was sawdust. All she could do was look at Tim, gaze at his hands and imagine being spanked by him.

After Tim took her home and kissed her good night, Ally tried going to bed, but couldn’t sleep. Restlessness tossed her from back to front, side to side, until she sat up in frustration and switched on the light. She was simply too keyed up, her head full of questions and what-if scenarios. She’d see him again on Saturday; he was coming over and they were going to a movie and dinner. How could she broach the subject of spanking with him?

She couldn’t. There had to be another way.

* * * *

Saturday afternoon arrived. Ally had not slept well the night before, and she was nervous and irritable. She hadn’t had this sort of apprehension on their previous dates and it baffled her. In the past couple of days, she had obsessively read online stories and re-watched her favorite spanking clips, studying intently, seeking a common thread. The one she found, over and over, was that the woman was a brat and provoked the spanking somehow.

Ally chafed at that idea; it wasn’t in her personality. But neither was it in her personality to come right out and ask Tim to spank her. Even though she knew this was the proper adult approach, she was far too shy. Besides, why should she, really? He’d done this before. Couldn’t he figure it out, if she gave him enough hints?

She dressed, put on her makeup with care, and was ready too early. Pacing her apartment like a caged cat, she waited for him. He got stuck in traffic and called, telling her apologetically that he was running a bit late. That didn’t help her mood.

When Tim got there, she was practically jumping out of her skin. Barely giving him a proper greeting, she snapped, “Well, there goes the movie. We won’t make in time now.”

“I’m sorry, honey,” Tim apologized, trying to hug her, but she stiffened in his arms. He backed off a bit, looking surprised. “I couldn’t help it; there was an accident. Shall we wait until the next showing? Or is there something else you’d like to see?”

“No!” she huffed, walking away from him and sitting on the couch. “The next showing is too late; it will run into our dinner reservation. And I don’t want to see anything else.”

He came over and sat beside her. “How about changing our reservation, bumping it to a little later?”

She frowned at him. “This late in the day, at that restaurant? Don’t be stupid.”

“Excuse me? What did you just call me?”

Aha, she thought triumphantly. Here it comes.

“I didn’t call you anything,” she said crisply. “I just told you to not be stupid.”

“Ally, what’s gotten into you?” Tim asked, looking into her face.

She avoided his eyes and shrugged. “Nothing. Why do you ask?”

“Because you’ve been rude to me ever since I walked in the door,” he said. “I’m sorry I was late, but it was unavoidable. I feel bad enough about it without you reacting like this.”

Ally squirmed. She hadn’t meant to upset him or hurt his feelings. This wasn’t going well at all. She couldn’t care less about the damn movie; she was just happy to be with him. Perhaps it was time for a different tactic. If he liked wild girls so much, then maybe she needed to loosen up a bit.

“OK, OK,” she said, turning to him, smiling. “Forget the movie. Let’s do something else while we’re waiting for dinner, shall we?” Her hand wandered up his thigh.

Tim grabbed her hand. “What are you doing?”

This wasn’t the reaction she’d expected. “Why?” she countered. “Don’t you like it?”

He shifted away. “I can’t just switch gears like that, Ally,” he protested. “You snark at me one minute, then grab at me the next? What’s going on?”

Flustered, she folded her arms. “Geeez! When I do something right, will you let me know? Excuse me for thinking you were a normal, healthy man who might want sex.”

Oh, no. I didn’t just say that, did I?

She had. Tim stood up. “You know what?” he said, his voice calm, but angry. “You’re clearly in a god-awful mood and I really don’t like how you’re acting toward me. Have your snit on your own; I’m going to leave now. I’ll come back in time to pick you up for dinner, and hopefully, your mood will have improved.”


“No!” she cried, jumping to her feet. “You can’t leave!”

“Why not?” he asked, glaring at her. “Do you have something to say to me?”

Yes, yes. I’m so sorry. Spank me. Please.

She met his glare; bit back her words. “No.”

“I’ll see you later, then.” He turned and walked to the door.

“Dammit, Tim!” she shrieked. But he was gone.

Ally was stunned. What had just happened here? How did it spiral out of control so quickly? Left alone with her thoughts, she transitioned from bewildered to angry. How dare he walk out on her like that? That’s not how it was supposed to go!

When 7:00 came, her intercom buzzed. Tim was right on time, ready to take her to dinner as promised. But she didn’t answer.

She sat still and listened to it buzz again, then a third time. A minute later, it buzzed a fourth time, longer and more insistent. Then her phone rang. She didn’t answer that, either. Ally hoped that maybe another guest would arrive at the same time, so Tim could get in the security gate and come banging at her door. However, the knock never came. Her phone rang once more, then stopped. Silence.

The phone’s voice-mail light blinked, indicating a new message. Heart pounding, she went to pick it up, expecting to hear a lengthy diatribe. Instead, the message was brief and coldly furious: “When you’re ready to give me an explanation, if you have one, call me.”

I’m not calling him, she thought. He’ll call me tomorrow. I think.

But he didn’t. Ally slept late, dawdled around the apartment, did chores, waiting. Around 3:00, she left to run errands, her cell phone on. Nothing. And when she returned two hours later, there were no messages waiting. By 8:00, she knew he wouldn’t call.

It took her until 9:00 to gather the courage to pick up the phone and punch in his number. He answered on the second ring.

“Don’t hang up,” she pleaded. “It’s me, Ally.”

“Hello, Ally.” His voice was cool and impersonal.

“How are you?”

“I’ve been better. What’s up?”

So much for small talk. “Tim, I’m so sorry,” she babbled. “I don’t know why I acted like that yesterday, and I know I owe you an explanation for why I didn’t answer the door when you came back, but I don’t have one. I was just so damn mad that you’d left. Please forgive me?”

“I left because you were being rude to me, Ally,” Tim said, his voice still chilly. “But I came back. Leaving me stranded outside the gate was inexcusable.”

“I know, I know, I’m sorry,” Ally pleaded. “I don’t have any excuses. Please, give me another chance? How about coming over on Wednesday night? I’ll make dinner for you.”

There was a moment of silence on the other end, then Tim spoke. “I don’t know.”

“I promise I won’t do anything like that again. I’ll make Italian—I know it’s your favorite. Please?”

“All right, Ally,” Tim said, softening a bit at last. “I have to work late, but I can be there about 7:30. Will that work for you?”

“Yes, that’s perfect. I’ll see you then, OK? And I really am sorry.”

“OK. Good night.”

Ally hung up, taking a deep breath. All right, so the belligerent bit hadn’t worked. But she wasn’t giving up. It was time for Plan B.

* * * *

On Wednesday, Tim arrived promptly at 7:30. Ally noticed he was friendly, but slightly reserved. He did bring a bottle of wine, however. Such a thoughtful man.

“Something smells wonderful,” he said, removing his jacket.

“Chicken cacciatore,” she beamed. “Relax for a bit; it’s almost done. Will you open the wine for us?” The table was already set, the bread in the oven, fresh asparagus steaming. All she had to do was boil the noodles.

When dinner was ready, she sat him at the table. “I’ll be right back,” she said, walking into the kitchen. At the stove, she dished up two plates of noodles, then lifted the lid of the Crock-Pot, sniffing appreciatively at the chicken simmering in tomatoes, onions and Italian spices as she ladled some onto both plates. After arranging asparagus alongside the main dish, she took a jar of cayenne pepper out of the spice rack, opened it and shook some generously over the chicken on Tim’s plate, stirring it in.

Back at the table, Ally smiled as Tim poured them both some wine. “Cheers,” she said, clinking her glass with his. Tim took a healthy forkful and chewed. In seconds, his face turned red, his eyes teared up and he began to cough. Ally watched in amusement as he took a gulp of wine, then snatched up his water glass and drank most of it down.

“Too spicy?” she asked.

Tim’s face was still red and he struggled to speak. “Umm… well, yeah, a little,” he managed. His voice sounded so strangled, she couldn’t help it—she burst into giggles.

Wiping his eyes with his napkin, Tim looked at her suspiciously. “What’s so funny?”

“Oh,” she burbled, putting her hands over mouth, trying to contain her glee. “You should see your face!”

Tim stared at his plate. Then, abruptly, he stood and reached for hers.

“Hey!” she cried, snatching at it, but he pulled it out of reach. “What are you doing?”

“You be still,” he growled, sitting back down, pushing his plate aside and replacing it with hers.

“But what are you—”

“Ally! Shut. Up.”

Ally obeyed, and mutely watching as he cut a bite of chicken, tasting it gingerly at first, then chewing and savoring, glaring at her. Ally fidgeted as he took a second bite, chewed and swallowed.

“Just as I thought,” he said, putting his utensils down. “Yours seem to be missing that extra something.” He threw his napkin on the table. “Do you mind telling me what’s going on here?”

She started laughing again, but more out of nerves this time. “It was just a little joke,” she said, cutting her eyes at him. “Where’s your sense of humor? There’s plenty more; I’ll go get you some.”

“I’ve lost my appetite,” he said, standing. “Ally, you know, I really liked you and thought we had something going here. But now, I’m not so sure this is working out. I’m too old for this childish crap.”

Ally couldn’t believe her ears. “What? No!”

“Call me when you grow up a bit, OK?”

“You can’t!” She jumped up, her legs stiff with panic. “Please! This isn’t how I expected you to react!”

His stare was incredulous. “What is that supposed to mean? How did you expect me to react?”

“Damn it!” she cried, stamping her foot in frustration. “I was trying to get you to spank me!”

“You were what?”

Mortified, she sat back down, turning away from him, her words tumbling out in a rush. “I’ve wanted a man to spank me for as long as I can remember, and when you talked about your ex, and how you used to spank her… and how she was this wild little thing …”

“Ally! I divorced her, remember?” Tim exclaimed. “That’s what all this was about? For God’s sake, why didn’t you just ask me?”

“I couldn’t! It’s too embarrassing!” Ally cried. “It never happens like that in the stories and the videos—the girl acts up and the man just knows what to do. I thought since you’d done it before, you’d know …” Her voice faded as she realized how ridiculous she sounded.

Tim took a deep breath, clearly trying to compose himself. “Jesus, Ally. I’m not a mind reader. And those videos, those stories, that’s just what they are—stories. Fantasies. They’re not real. In reality, acting out gets you ostracized. Or arrested. Or maybe a punch in the mouth. Not spanked.”

Ally buried her face in her hands. She’d never felt so foolish in her life, and she’d screwed up what could have been a very good thing. “I’m so sorry, Tim,” she mumbled through her fingers, tears stinging her eyes. “I’ve never done this before. I’ve never told a man that I wanted this. I didn’t know what to do.”

There was a pause, and she waited for the sound of him walking out the door. Instead, she heard, “Well. I think it’s time to be adult about this, Ally.”

Startled, she looked up. “What do you mean?”

“I mean,” he said, stepping closer. “You want me to spank you? Ask me. Nicely.”

Her face flushed and she ducked her head. “Tim, I can’t.”

“Yes, you can. Just do it. No more games, Ally.”

With her head down, she began, “Um … will you …”

Tim leaned toward her, put his fingers under his chin and lifted her face. “Look at me.”

She wanted to crawl away and disappear. Goosebumps broke out on her arms and her limbs shook. But somehow, she managed to look into his eyes. “Tim,” she whispered. “Will you—will you spank me? Please?”

There was a ghost of a smile on Tim’s face, then it was gone, and his expression became steely. “Will I?” he replied. “Just try to stop me.”

Swallowing hard, Ally stood and started to clear the plates, but he gripped her forearm. “Leave those,” he commanded. His head inclined toward her bedroom. “Go to your bedroom and wait for me.”

Her legs trembled so badly, she was afraid to move. “Ally, go,” he repeated, more firmly. She went.

* * * *

As Ally plucked nervously at the fringes on her throw pillow, she could hear Tim in the bathroom, opening and closing drawers. When he walked in holding her hairbrush, she felt sick. “What is that for?”

“Don’t worry, I’m not going to use it first,” Tim said, sitting next to her on the bed. “Although you sure deserve it.” She turned her face away. “Ally, look at me when I’m talking to you. I’m not going to ask you again.”

When she reluctantly did so, he continued. “Are you sure this is what you want? It’s going to hurt. More than you imagined, probably.”

Ally squirmed, but replied yes.

“OK, then.” Tim guided her across his lap, flipping up her skirt. Without thinking, she burst out, “I thought you’re supposed to start over the skirt first!”

Tim’s hand pressed into her back. “Are you going to tell me how to do this?”

She bit her lip. “No,” she mumbled.

“You’re not in charge here, Ally. I am.” Before she could answer, she felt a rush of air and then a hard smack on her right cheek. Her breath caught in her throat. Another smack landed on the left side.

Ohhhh … damn, that hurts!

Tim got into a pattern quickly, alternating cheeks, covering them thoroughly, and the warmth and sting increased steadily. She squirmed and her feet flew up. “Hold still, Ally.”

She tried, she really did, but as the burn grew more intense, she began to kick again. “Ally, I said hold still,” Tim scolded.

“I can’t help it; it hurts!” she whimpered.

“I told you it would,” he said, not stopping. “If you really, really can’t bear it, if you need me to stop, say ‘mercy.’ Otherwise, keep still and take your spanking. Remember, you wanted it.”

Yes, she had. But she still gasped in protest when she felt him pull down her panties.

He stopped briefly. “You have something to say, Allison?”

She winced at his use of her full name, and shook her head vigorously.

Smack! “Ow!” she yelped.

“I can’t hear a nod, Ally,” Tim said, pausing. “I want an answer.”

“No, Tim,” Ally murmured. “I have nothing to say.”

“Good. Let’s continue. And I don’t like this kicking, so it stops now.” He swung his right leg up and pinned her flailing limbs under it. She could still thrash around, but her legs were immobile.

Much as she complained and cried out, the powerlessness aroused her like never before. Afraid her neighbors might hear, she pressed her face into the bedspread, stifling her moans and shrieks. The spanking got harder and faster.

“Still want this, Ally?” Tim asked, stopping briefly to rub her bottom.

“Yes,” she gasped. “I … I think so.”

He chuckled despite himself. “Brave girl,” he said. “Let’s see if you still want it after this.” She felt the cool, smooth wood of the hairbrush moving across her cheeks, and she shuddered. “Oh, Tim, no.”

“Who’s in charge here, Ally?”

Argggh! “You are. I’m sorry.”

“Just thirty, Ally,” he said soothingly, but she didn’t feel soothed at all. “Fifteen on each cheek, so you’ll remember to be honest and straightforward with me from now on. Are you ready?”

She nodded, and the hairbrush cracked down hard. “Oww! Tim!” she shrieked.

“That one didn’t count,” he said firmly. “What did I tell you about nodding?”

Her voice breaking, Ally cried, “Yes, yes! I forgot. I’m ready!”

If she thought his hand hurt, that was a caress next to the hairbrush. Mercifully, he paced the thirty smacks a little more slowly, so she could catch her breath and absorb the pain. Still, she struggled and clutched the bedspread, her mind screaming for it to be over.

Yet when it was, she felt disappointment mingled with the relief. She wanted even more. It shocked her how much she’d liked it, even more than she’d thought she would. How could something that hurt so much, feel so damn incredible?

Tim gently massaged her bottom and lower back, his other hand stroking her hair. Damn it, she thought, tears slipping down her cheeks. Why can’t I tell him I want more?

“How are you doing?” he said quietly. “You all right?” “Yes,” she whispered, her voice breathless and teary. He made no move to let her get up, and she didn’t want to. After several minutes, she meekly asked, “Shall I stand up now?”



“You know, Ally,” Tim said, his voice having changed from authoritative to silky soft, “there are many different types of spankings. I’m sure you’ve seen them, what with all those clips you’ve watched. Some are more disciplinary, like the one you just got. Others are more on the sensual side. I think maybe it’s time for you to have a taste of the nice kind, don’t you? I mean, since we’re here and this is your first time and all.”

Ally’s skin tingled; she felt that lovely lurch in her belly again. He knew, after all. “Oh, yes,” she breathed. “Yes, I’d like that very much. Please.”

“Well, since you said please …” She felt his hand squeeze and knead her sore cheeks, firmly but tenderly. His palm on the small of her back no longer felt like an iron bar, but the gentlest of restraints.

When the spanking started again, the feeling was different. Tim’s technique had gone from brisk and punitive to lingering, his hand creating a slap and a caress at the same time. Sometimes he struck with his palm, other times with his fingers. On occasion, he’d stop and lightly drag his fingernails across her flesh, making her jump. Or simply caress with his fingertips, wandering along her thighs. His other hand slid up and down her back, then twined itself into her hair.

Ally groaned. The pain, which had been tough to take before, was now pure pleasure. Her body sought release, and she nearly screamed when Tim pushed her legs slightly apart. But all he did was slap and stroke gently on her inner thighs, fingers coming oh-so-close, but not quite. “Oh, God. Tim, please!”

“Please what, honey?” he teased, continuing his maddening touch. “What’s your hurry? We have plenty of time.”

In response, Ally clamped her legs closed, squeezing his hand between them. Tim laughed and detached his hand. “Greedy, greedy girl,” he scolded. “First things first.” And he began spanking her again. Harder. Still sensual, yet deliciously painful.

Faster and faster he went, increasing the intensity little by little. She ground against him, gritted her teeth and took it, arching her back for more. Soon, the blows were so hard, they shook the bed. Again, she buried her face in the spread and howled. But still, she loved it. Yes. Yes. This is what I want.

Finally, he wound down. Ally lay boneless across his lap, panting, relishing the throb and burn, the euphoria. In her haze, she noticed that Tim had not said a word and she was grateful. She couldn’t make coherent speech at this moment for the life of her.

Time slipped by as she slowly regained her senses, enjoying the solid feel of Tim’s thighs under her belly, of his hand making slow circles on her behind. His voice floated to her ears. “How are you doing, baby?”

“Fine,” she murmured dreamily, undulating like a cat on his lap. “Wonderful.”

She felt his laugh rumbling. “Yes, you certainly are.”

“Mmm. So are you.”

Ally had no desire to move, but eventually, she remembered her manners. Tim hadn’t had any dinner. “Shall I go warm up some cacciatore?” she asked. “You must be pretty hungry by now.”

In reply, he gripped her shoulders and pulled her up, gathering her against his chest. “I am, but not for that. Maybe for a midnight snack, OK?”

Feeling the dampness of his shirt against her cheek, Ally clung to him, trembling with desire, fueled by the heat rising off her skin. She glanced at the nightstand clock and smiled. It was only 9:30. Tim was right; there was no need to hurry.

They had all the time in the world.

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