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A familiar sensation came over Leah. She hadn’t felt it this strongly for three years and now it was back. The tingle, the rush of energy to her sex, the complete awareness of her clitoris and its purpose. She swallowed hard and stared at Rick. Much time had passed—could she still trust him?
He had changed in appearance; that was obvious. His chocolate hair darker, richer, and longer. Not quite the mop style, but it was no longer the military crew-cut. The ends of his trousers flared, not bell-bottomed or excessive, just a hint of fashion to his clothing. A brown suede jacket with pointed lapels and his patent black shoes, brightly polished as she recalled from their first encounter. By keeping to the fringes of the latest styles, he had made himself extremely appealing and sexy.
His fingers drummed on the top of the tea chest while he waited patiently for her to move. A shuffling walk, a few feet at a time, until she stood a yard away from the box, clutching her handbag.
“Put that down,” he said, pointing at the bag.
Leah propped it on the other side of the chest, then stood hands clasped at her front—waiting, unsure, and nervous.
“I want you to take off your knickers. For three speeding tickets, I think you deserve a bare bottom spanking,” said Rick smoothly.
“What are you going to spank me with?” She knew his trousers had no belt; the hipster style did not need one.
“That is for me to decide. Now, please take off those knickers. Your tights too, naturally.” His tone would brook no more delays.
She slid her fingers up her thigh; the dress was not tight and had an A-line skirt, though a short one. Mortified by her predicament, she had to lift her skirt high up to find the waistband of her tights. Rolling them down, she lifted them over her knickers and then on past her knees and ankles. She slipped out of her shoes and removed the tights. For a few uncertain seconds, she stood on the wooden boards on her tiptoes, feeling the cold between her toes.
Pausing, she peered up at Rick. He stood, leaning slightly on the tea chest with his arms folded across his chest and his face expressionless. If he was excited at seeing her undress, he showed no emotion. Except, when her eyes looked closely, she could see the rapid pulse in his neck and the way he repeatedly swallowed, pushing out his Adam’s apple—it made her realise he was simply better than she was at hiding his feelings.
Leah’s quivering hands went back up her skirt, seeking out the edge of her knickers. Slightly frilly ones with a lacy pattern, she drew them down. The crotch would be wet. She didn’t want him to see it, so as she lifted her feet out, she scrunched the knickers up tightly into a ball.
To her incredulity and embarrassment, he held out his hand and asked for the knickers. She handed over the lacy panties and he didn’t look at them, but squeezed them into one of his front pockets.
“Bend over,” he said, “and then I can lift up your dress. Keep your coat on. It’s cold. I don’t want you catching a chill.”
Leah had to smile a little at his comment about heat. It was cold in the warehouse, almost chilly enough to make her breath stand out, but soon she would be radiating a different warmth. The thought managed to both intimidated her and made her blush with excitement at the same time.
The chest wasn’t dirty. Lower than she would have liked, it forced her bottom up high and her shoulders down. She crossed her arms and rested her head on them. It smelt of bergamot, or something oriental. A calming aromatic fragrance, which made the scenario even more bizarre and erotically charged.
Leah flinched. Two sets of fingers and thumbs had taken hold of her hem and begun to lift up her skirt. Cold air followed behind his fingers. Rising up, her dress reached her bare cheeks. Leah let out a hiss of breath as she felt the fabric caress her skin, rising still higher until it reached her waist. Rick neatly folded the skirt under her jacket, using the weight of the heavier textile to hold her dress out of the way.
Throughout his slow unveiling, she could hear his rapid breathing and her own mirrored it. She had to clench hard to stop her pussy from convulsing. The spanking he had in mind was going to be painful. She wanted it to be. Nobody, except perhaps the policemen and her family solicitor, had actually told her off for being careless in her driving. Even her mother had scoffed, pointing out that Italians were notoriously bad drivers. Now, somebody was finally pointing out the errors, making her accountable and, beneath the nerves and sexual flurry between her legs, she felt good about it.
His gentle torment continued as he ran his hand down each cheek, squeezing slightly as if to test the thickness of her flesh, the warmth and tautness. She could feel the goose bumps breaking out over her skin, travelling up her thighs and across her buttocks.
“I’m going to start now. A warm-up. Then six hard smacks for each ticket.”
Her feet shuffled, an anxious moment of anticipation followed as he rested one hand on her lower back and lifted the other one up. She squeezed her eyes tightly shut, took a deep breath and held it.
The smack echoed, a louder sound than the slap warranted. He wasn’t spanking her hard. She remembered how hard he could land his hand if he wanted to do so. Leah grunted, letting out her breath and then she gulped another one in. Each smack she accompanied with her little breathing exercise. It seemed to help.
The spanking stung her cheeks, left, then right, back and forth, until the stinging merged into a circle of heat. So far, it hadn’t been too painful.
Rick stopped. His hand lifted off her back, the one that she realised had kept her still and unmoving throughout. Opening her eyes, she saw him walk about the room, searching for something, picking up items and then putting them down. She propped her body up on her elbows.
“Stay down. We’re not finished. Remember, six for each ticket?”
“Can’t you use your hand?” she pleaded.
“No. It has to be something you will take note of. In any case, my hand is a little sore,” he said with a brief chuckle.
Leah guffawed. “All right for some,” she snapped.
Rick waggled a finger at her. “Don’t be disrespectful, Miss Leah, or I shall add another six.”
Watching him move about, Leah relaxed back on her arms. Somehow, even though the worst had yet to come, she felt safe in his company. He had a stern expression and tone to his voice, he looked quite masterful in his stylish clothes and with his delicious chocolate hair. His skin tone had darkened, making his Maltese heritage visible. She wanted to see more of him, undressed and exposed like her red bottom.
Rick misconstrued the groan of frustration. “Patience. I want the right tool for the job.”
