When Rick spotted a tall, attractive redhead entering his favourite bar, he had wasted no time in offering to buy her a drink. The woman, whose name was Joanne, accepted his offer, and they were now chatting pleasantly. He'd flirted a bit with her, but while she wasn't unreceptive to his advances, he had a feeling that he would probably go home alone today – maybe with her phone number, but maybe not. This was a slight disappointment, but in his view, a pleasant conversation with a beautiful woman is never a bad thing, even if it doesn't lead to anything more.
She'd just asked for another margarita, and he offered to pay for this one as well. She seemed about to refuse, but then accepted. "After all," she told him as the bartender handed her the drink. "It's my birthday today."
"Oh? Congratulations," he said. He leaned forward, wanting to test her reaction to a more sexual suggestion than those he had already attempted. "So have you had your birthday spanking today?"
"I seem to have offended you," he said apologetically. "I didn't mean to –"
"No, what did you just say? Tell me," she said intensely, staring at him as if noticing him for the first time.
"I asked if you'd had your birthday spanking today," he repeated.
She tried to reach for her drink, and when she noticed that it was no longer there, she grabbed his glass of beer and took a deep draught, as if steadying her nerves. Putting the glass down, she gave him an eager smile. "No, I haven't. A massive oversight, you'll agree. Maybe we should go back to my place, and you can rectify that error?"
Rick couldn't believe his luck, striking gold with a small, joking comment like that, but as they hailed a taxi outside the bar, Rick began to wonder just what he'd gotten himself into. He'd briefly smacked the backsides of a few girlfriends before, either during sex or as a prelude to it, but it was small and quick, just an appetizer to the main event. From the intense way Joanne had reacted to his little joke, he had a feeling it was much more important to her than that, and he wondered how the evening would end.
They arrived at her home, which turned out to be a small, tactfully decorated apartment at the outskirts of town. She was nervously wringing her hands, occasionally reaching a hand back to idly rub her backside in anticipation. As they entered the apartment, it was clear she was waiting for him to take charge. Rick felt quite nervous himself, but did his best to appear calm and confident.
"I think you should get me a drink," he told her.
She nodded. "Yes, sir. At once, sir." And she hurried off to a cabinet. He spotted a bottle of whiskey, and asked her to bring him a glass without ice. As he sat down on the couch, sipping the drink to calm himself, she stood at his right side, and he leaned back and patted his lap. "Over my knee."
While he'd never given a real spanking before – only a few smacks in passing, or in bed – he had a vague understanding of them from popular culture, and taking the miscreant over your knee seemed to be a standard method. She eagerly leant forward, placing her weight on his lap, then inching forward to raise her bottom as much as possible. Wriggling her rear end, she looked over her shoulder at him. "I'm ready for my spanking, sir."
His hand began to rub her bottom, enjoying the feel of her soft flesh through her thin linen shorts. One smack per year, wasn't that the standard for a birthday spanking? But isn't it impolite to ask a lady her age, even in these circumstances? "How many birthday spanks are you due for? Twenty-one?" he asked as he stroked her bottom.
She giggled at his poor attempt at tactfulness. "I'm thirty-two today," she told him.
"Thirty-two it is," he said, and he slapped her bottom. The first stroke was light – he wanted to start of easy, in case she was not as into this as he had supposed. The second was slightly harder, but there was still no reaction or protest from her. At the third one, she sighed impatiently, and he realized that she had expected something more.
The fourth slap rang out in the room, and she whipped her head up in surprise, then glanced up at him with a pleased expression. The fifth and sixth followed, just as hard. She lay her head down with a satisfied smile as he spread the slow smacks over the surface of her short-clad rear.
Around the twentieth spank, she started to slowly wiggle her rear, though it seemed to be more from pleasure than pain. He kept the pace up, and delivered the thirty-second smack with a mixture of relief and disappointment. She looked very cute over his knee. "And one to grow on," he said, delivering one last, stinging spank.
As she rose to her feet and began to rub her behind with a satisfied grin, he reached for his glass to take another sip. This had been a very interesting evening already, and he was wondering what would happen next, when he suddenly noticed that she was taking off her shorts. Where they about to enter her bedroom? Should he be taking his clothes of as well?
But with her shorts around her knees, she bent back over his lap, her pink panties wriggling tauntingly up at him. The message was clear – she was expecting the same treatment again.
He delivered a few spanks to the seat of her panties, maintaining the same slow, steady pace. She was now squirming as he spanked her – it was clear that the shorts had been more protection than he had supposed. Or maybe it was just the fact that she'd been warmed up already. Either way, she seemed very happy with his efforts.
His hand moved from cheek to cheek, and as he watched her buns jiggle and flatten under his palm, he felt an erotic surge that surprised him. He'd always enjoyed the sight of a woman preceding him up a flight of stairs, her bottom swinging as she walked, and this seemed to have the same appeal, only far more so.
Though the sight of the squirming woman and the sound of the loud claps was a bit of a distraction, he managed to keep count, and he reached the thirty-second spank sooner than he'd hoped. "And one to grow on," he said, slamming his palm down harder than on the other smacks. She tried to rise, but he stopped her with a hand at her back, and began to rub the seat of her panties. She moaned, particularly when his hand strayed to the lower parts of her backside, almost approaching the wet spot on her panties, then she sighed in frustration when it moved away again. His hand now toyed with the waistband of her panties.
"I think we should have these down now," he said. Since she'd lowered her shorts for him, he'd guessed she'd been about to do the same to her panties. From the grin on her face, he knew that he'd guessed correctly, and he lowered her panties to join her shorts around her knees.
She had a very attractive bubble butt, which his hand had painted bright pink. She was wiggling her rear right over his crotch, and he realized that he was rock hard. He began to stroke her naked backside, enjoying the sounds of her moans, then suddenly reached his hand up and spanked her. She let out a surprised squeal as his hard hand began to slap her buns, and she was soon squirming more than ever.
With her bottom naked, he could see a few spots that he'd missed, so he focused his attention on the paler parts of her posterior. Soon, her entire bottom was bright pink. She was wriggling her toes in joy, and she'd buried her face in a pillow to enjoy the moment.
"And one to grow on," he repeated, as he delivered the thirty-third spank. It took a few seconds before she could summon the strength to rise to her feet. Both hands flew back to caress her burning bottom, and she smiled blissfully. Suddenly, a thought seemed to strike her, and she hurried off to the bedroom – a task made more difficult by the fact that her shorts and panties were around her ankles. He was surprised by this turn of events, and couldn't make up his mind about whether he was supposed to follow her.
A few seconds later, she emerged holding a wooden paddle – rectangular, about a foot long, and covered with holes. She handed it to him with an eager expression on her face. "I think you should finish my spanking with this, sir," she said.
He eyed the object. It looked heavy and painful, and there was some part of him that protested at the thought of using this on a woman. However, the fact that she'd asked him to, and that she looked adorable over his knee, made it much easier to shut that part down.
He patted his lap again, and she eagerly bent back over. The paddle was too large to use on one cheek, so he decided to use it another way – start at the top of her bottom, then work his way down, then back up again until he reached the right number. He tapped the paddle gently against her quivering bottom, and smiled as she squirmed and clenched her bottom as goosebumps formed on her skin.
The first stroke made her hiss in pain, and he paused, afraid that she'd bitten off more than she could chew. When she didn't tell him to stop, he lifted the paddle again, delivering another spank just below the first one. The third one made her kick her legs, but she enthusiastically lifted her bottom for another stroke.
After ten strokes, he could tell tears had begun to fall from her eyes. At fifteen, she was whimpering in pain. At twenty, she began to kick her legs with every stroke. At twenty-five, he had to wrap his arm around her waist to keep her in position. At thirty, her entire bottom was red. As he delivered the thirty-third stroke, he looked at her with great concern. Was she OK? Had he gone too far?
She looked over her shoulder at him, and tried to speak. She swallowed, paused to regain her breath, and tried again, but no sound came. It was clear that the spanking had taken a lot out of her, and it was only with great effort that she managed to deliver a few words at her third attempt.
"Don't stop."
He raised an eyebrow at that, but decided to do as the she wanted. He picked the paddle up again, patting it gently against her red buns, then continued to deliver the firm, slow spanks. She was wincing and sobbing, but from the moist stains she left on his jeans, it was clear she was still enjoying it.
Her backside was practically crimson by the time she called out for him to stop. He placed the paddle down on the table, then hugged her tight as one of his hands caressed her blistered bottom. She locked her arms around him as she cried into his shirt. After a few minutes, she'd calmed down enough to stand up, though she was still rubbing tears from her eyes.
She gingerly touched her bruised flesh. "Wow! You have no idea how long it's been since I've had a spanking like that! I was starting to get afraid it would never happen again." Looking with great satisfaction at the bulge in his trousers, she knelt on the floor and started to unzip his fly.
"What are you doing?" he said surprised, though he made no attempt to stop her.
"You've given me a very good spanking, sir," she said, licking her lips. "Now I'm going to thank you for it."
He had never had much of an interest in spanking before this, but as she wrapped her lips around his shaft, he knew they would DEFINITELY be doing this again – very, very soon.
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