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He gave the command once more when she didn’t move; this time with more conviction. “Come here.”
She took a deep breath and stood up. She lay across his lap, feeling awkward and clumsy. Should she rest all her weight on him? Feeling too heavy, she tried her best to rest as much weight on the tips of her toes as she could, but the position made it difficult. Sawyer silently answered that question for her when he repositioned her body so her bottom was more upturned, and there was no way she could hold herself up anymore. At that very moment, she was one hundred percent on his lap.
“I normally always spank a bare behind, but considering the circumstances, I will allow you to keep your panties on.” He pulled down her yoga pants, and the cool air against the flesh of her thighs and butt cheeks stunned her.
Rebecca’s mind raced to remember what panties she had on. Were they pretty? Old? She hadn’t been planning for this! If she remembered correctly, they were…
Oh, shoot me now.
She was wearing her green panties that were covered in little shamrocks. The words ‘lucky’ were written across the globes of her ass. It wasn’t even close to St. Patrick’s Day. As she stared at the ink-stained concrete mere inches from her nose, she realized that this wasn’t exactly a sexy fantasy, or something her friend Coley could write about in one of her books. She was over her tattoo artist’s lap, wearing old St. Patrick’s Day underwear, and she still had to pee.
“Lucky, huh? I don’t think your ass is going to feel very lucky when I’m through with you.” He chuckled lightly, causing her body to jiggle with his.
“Ha, ha, very funny,” she replied, and rolled her eyes. How did she get herself in this situation?
Wasting no time, he landed a searing swat on her backside. “I don’t think you are in a position to have a sassy attitude with me, young lady.”
Woah, what the hell was that? Before she could even process the swat and his stern voice, another slap landed on her ass, and then another. The spanking continued in a rapid succession, and Rebecca hadn’t even taken a breath yet.
Her mind drowned in thoughts and questions. Did it hurt? Was she supposed to cry and plead? Was she supposed to make cute little sexy noises? Was she supposed to put up resistance? Was she too heavy for his lap? How bad did her shamrock panties look?
Those thoughts didn’t last long as the spanking continued. This was no joke. His hand came down over, and over, and over again. With each spank, the intensity increased. With each swat, the burn intensified.
Does it hurt? Yes!
Am I going to cry and plead? Maybe, just maybe.
Am I supposed to make sexy noises? She didn’t care anymore, as her ass caught on fire.
Am I supposed to put up resistance? Her body had a mind of its own as she tried to block the spanking with her hand, only to have Sawyer pin it behind her lower back.
Am I too heavy for his lap? She sure hoped so. Maybe he would end this spanking much sooner.
How bad do my leprechaun panties look? Who gave a fuck? They were her only saving grace at the moment.
“I think it’s about time someone took you in hand,” he began to lecture her. “You need someone to show you they care. You need someone to show you that you matter.” His spanking increased in severity—if that was possible. “And I will gladly be that person and teach you this lesson. You.” Smack. “Will.” Smack. “Put.” Smack. “Your.” Smack. “Health.” Smack. “And.” Smack. “Safety.” Smack. “First!” Smack.
“Yes! Yes! I will,” she cried out, kicking her legs up and down in protest to her very first spanking ever.
“From this moment on.” The spanking continued. “If I ever feel you are putting yourself at risk, I will personally pull you over my knee and blister this behind. Are we clear?” He didn’t let up on the spanking at all.
“Yes!” Sweat beaded her brow and lip. “I definitely get your point,” she squealed, as a few swats landed on her upper thighs.
Just as she was about to beg for mercy, he stopped. He gently ran his hand over her behind, offering some, but very little, comfort. Rebecca took the few moments to try to regain her breathing and composure—even as she lay across the lap of a man she barely knew.
After a few more caresses of her panty-clad bottom, Sawyer assisted her up to sit on his lap. He pulled her into an embrace. Although the act seemed foreign, at the same time, it felt so very right. After what had just occurred, she needed his affection and warm embrace. She almost melted into him as he began to stroke her hair and run his hands gingerly down her spine, reminding her of the tattoo she had just been given by him. She could have sat like that for days. His natural smell, not masked with cologne, permeated her nose. She took a deep breath as she closed her eyes, relishing in the man who’d just opened her eyes.
