Her wish (M/F story)

 Roger stood by himself in the living room and tried to understand the sentence whirling around in his head. He filled another glass of brandy, took a small sip, and repeated the sentence again. "Caroline wants me to spank her," he said to himself. "My girlfriend wants me to take her over my lap, pull down her panties and slap her bottom until she starts to cry."

He concluded that it still didn't make sense. He assumed it wouldn't start to make sense if he continued to stand there, and another brandy probably wouldn't give new insight, but he saw no reason not to try. He had always seen himself as someone who would try new things. Last week, for example, he had finally given in to his lover's requests and promised that he would perform violence on her. His promise had made her so happy she almost cried. And he had tried; several times in the last week he had taken her over his lap and tried to spank her. But he couldn't – he didn't know how to give her what she wanted.

He reluctantly put the bottle away. He still hoped that everything would make sense if he had a few drinks, but it hadn't helped so far. And he had to be careful not to drink too much; what he was about to do would be difficult enough, and if he attempted it under the influence, it was guaranteed to go wrong.

Caroline was standing in the bedroom, with her nose in the corner and her hands on her back. He hadn't asked her to stand there, to think about the punishment that was due, but she pretended that he had. Goosebumps appeared as she thought about those large, powerful hands of his that were about to land on her unprotected rear end.

Deep inside, she knew that she shouldn't hope for too much. After all, he'd tried a few times, and he still couldn't do it. It was not natural to him; he just wasn't created like that. But if she continued to advise him, and tried to guide him, it had to work eventually?

He entered the room and sat down on the side of the bed. She turned toward him, and with a flirty gaze she leaned over his lap. She would prefer to stand in front of him, looking shamefully at the floor while he lectured her, before he pulled her over his lap. But those things would have to come later, when the essentials were in place.

He had to draw his breath as he lifted her skirt, and Caroline smiled to herself as she felt something press against her stomach. She was wearing a pair of sexy silk panties that he loved to see her in – or, more correctly, he loved to pull them off her.

As Roger grabbed the panties and started to lower them, he felt like he was ruining a work of art. A backside like this in panties like these should be in every art gallery on the planet. Her rear end was lovely on its own, he admitted as his hand began to stroke it. He wished that this was all they had to do that evening – groping her butt before they jumped into bed – but she wanted something else, and he would do his best to give it to her.

His first strokes were light – some light slaps she barely noticed. He drew his breath and tried again. Don't be afraid, you're not hurting me, she'd said. He wished he could rely on that. He gave her some harder smacks with his flat hand.

"Roger," she moaned. "It's a butt you're spanking, not a TV you're slapping into activity. Curve your hand, and try to cover my entire bottom. The goal is an even pink colour all over." Actually, she would prefer red or even crimson, but again, some things would have to come later.


He curved his hand. The slaps came evenly, first on the right side, then on the left, until he had found some sort of rhythm. He spanked harder and harder, and Caroline had to admit it began to hurt. She let out an "Ouch!" as she felt tears at the edge of her eyes.

He immediately stopped spanking her and grabbed her shoulder. "Are you OK? Did I hurt you?"

She sighed. "Roger, do you remember what I told you on Monday? About the colours?"

"Are you talking about that security word thing? Red for stop and similar?"

"Safeword, but yes. The reason we have those words is that the spanker doesn't stop just because the spankee cries out in pain or yells stop – sometimes you can't control things like that, and pausing ruins the flow." She smiled encouragingly up at him. "But it was excellent up to that point, so if you could continue like that?"

The white posterior on his lap had begun to turn pink, and Caroline could again feel tears at the edges of her eyes. She decided it was enough; she really wanted a proper spanking, where she cried loudly and kicked her legs in pain, but she doubted he was ready for that yet, and she wanted to try again soon – tomorrow, if possible. Many light sessions would be better teaching tools than one hard one. "You can stop now," she said, and was surprised when he continued to spank her. What was going on?

She quickly realized her error. "Red!" she called out. "Red, red."

He immediately stopped spanking her. "I'm sorry, I just thought –"

"My fault," she said as she stood up. "It's my fault, I confused you. You did the right thing."

He could see in her eyes that, once again, she hadn't gotten what she wanted. What she NEEDED, he corrected himself. He knew this was something deep inside her, something unchangeable. A need he couldn't fulfil.

Caroline couldn't deny that she felt slightly disappointed. Nothing that was happening was the least bit natural for him. He couldn't understand her, her inner needs and desires. He truly didn't understand WHY she needed this.

But he still tried; again and again, he had tried to give her what she wanted. He was willing to this for her, to learn from her – and he was learning. He was willing to spank her, even if his upbringing and his culture told him not to hit his lover. He tried as much as he could. And he was hers.

She smiled flirtatiously to him as she took off her shirt, revealing her breasts to his gaze. She could see the bulge in his trousers as she slowly approached him with bedroom eyes. He had done the best he could, and deserved a reward.