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“Hmm?” He raises an eyebrow. He knows the one. He loves this. I sigh and his brows knit in a slight frown.
“The one when I’m over your lap in your study.”
“This study?”
“Yes.” He nods for me to go on.
“The one where I’ve been bad. And you spank me. You spank my ass red.”
“And then what happens?”
I blush deeper and hide my face against the doorway. He waits.
“Then you tell me to reach into the drawer. And take out the lube, and the plug. And you part my cheeks and…lubeupmyassandpushtheplugin.” My heart is beating in my cunt.
“What happens then?” I’m drowning in my pulse, it’s roaring in my ears.
“Then I bend over your desk and hold on.”
“And?”
“And the cane.”
“Ah, the cane. With the plug in. And how do you feel about that, Lucy?”
I hate it, it terrifies me, it hurts too much. And sometimes I sweat and dream about it, but I’m always too scared to ask you for it. But you always know when I need it. I shake my head.
“Sir.” My breath is a whisper. He smiles.
“And after the cane?”
“You take the plug out and you fuck my sore, red, spanked, caned ass, Sir.”
He walks over to me and takes my face in his hands.
“Oh, I do.”
Red comes in so many shades. So do spankings. Experiment. Lift the paddle. Bend over the sofa. Count the blows. Take the fantasy where you need it to go.
TANTALIZING TIPS
•Submit to reading a book of sizzling spanking stories, such as Rachel Kramer Bussel’s Cheeky Spanking Stories and Bottoms Up: Spanking Good Stories (Cleis Press).
•Employ household items rather than traditional paddles. There’s nothing like the smack of a wooden spoon, the crack of a leather belt, or the sting of a hard-backed brush for a spontaneous spanking.
•Have a spank test (rather than a taste test). Gather up a variety of implements to see which ones make your spanko heart go pitter-pat.
FICTION: SPANKING
BENEATH THE SURFACE
SOMMER MARSDEN
I think you need to let me put it in you for a minute.” He says this to me with a wry grin and I want to appear affronted. Offended. Shocked.
I’m not. My body betrays me by sending out a rush of arousal. Nipples spike, stomach dips, pussy grows wet. I swear I can feel my eyes dilating and my pulse jumping like a cornered rabbit in my throat. My fingers are clutching cut-up vegetables, my mind is on measurements and the final head count. I’m frustrated, anxious and frazzled. I stare.
“I know you’re busy, though, so just for a moment.”
