Don responded to the text message with the question, “I thought you just wanted a one-time experience?” It had been a week since he had spanked Rebecca and, while he was pleased to hear from her again, he was also surprised. She had been very clear in all their correspondence prior to meeting that she simply wanted to know first hand what it was like to be spanked. She was a happily married woman with a secret fantasy to fulfill and, once done, that was to be it.
Rebecca’s return text was almost immediate: “I’m a bit confused about things. Can we meet for coffee and talk?”
“It would be my pleasure; how about 10am tomorrow, same place?”
“I’ll be there. Thanks.”
It was a few minutes to ten when Rebecca, dressed in a gray sheer-front blouse, blue jeans and silver faux snakeskin heels, arrived at the coffee shop. Don was already sitting at the same table where they first met. He immediately rose on seeing her walk in and gave her a welcoming hug. “I have your coffee all ready,” he said, nodding towards the tabletop as she sat down. “It’s rather quiet in here today.” He sat opposite her and continued in a slightly quieter voice, “So no-one can listen in on our conversation.”
“That’s good.” Rebecca sipped at her coffee. “Mmm, just the way I like it.”
“I aim to please.”
“Oh, you do that very well.” She responded without thought, then buried her face into her coffee mug in an attempt to hide an instant blush.
Don just smiled, brushed the lock of raven hair that had flopped across her face back behind her left ear and waited for her to look up again. “So you liked being spanked then?” he teased.
“I liked it way too much, actually.”
“I see.” Don leaned back into his chair and picked up his coffee, his eyes not leaving her face.
“And therein lays my conflict.” She cradled her drink in both of her hands. “For a couple of days afterward it made things so much better at home.” She quickly looked over her shoulder to make sure nobody had sat at a close by table before continuing. “Sex, I mean. I actually came with my husband.”
“Hmm, that’s good; yet I sense there must be a ‘but’ coming.”
“But it didn’t last, so now I’m back to my toys while I watch spanking on line.” She twisted her mouth. “Except that toys and voyeurism isn’t doing it for me anymore.”
“Now that you know how much you like it, why not ask your husband to spank you?”
“I did, but he said that was sick and that I must be watching too much daytime television. He told me that if you love someone you don’t go around beating on them. Trust me; this is not a concept that Nick is ever going to get.” She vibrated her head. “It’s not even worth trying.” Rebecca deliberately placed her mug in front of her and put both of her hands on the tabletop. “So, I came up with an idea.” She looked directly at Don. “Would you consider spanking me on a somewhat routine basis?”
“You’re suggesting that we have an ongoing relationship?”
“Yes,” her head tilted to the left and she tried to suppress a smile, “Just for spanking.”
“So instead of your one-time fantasy, you feel you’d now like to become a regular spankee, eh?”
“Yes, I would; but still without sex.”
Don looked thoughtful and took a swig of coffee. “I take it that by ‘without sex’ you’re just referring to vaginal intercourse?” He put his mug down. “I am rather partial to a former president’s definition of what constitutes sex, you know.”
“I’d wondered about that.” Rebecca made a security clutch on her coffee mug and stared at her hands. “That’s the biggest part of my problem; I don’t want to cheat on Nick.”
“What’s Nick’s take on Clinton?”
Rebecca burst into laughter. “What Nick thinks,” she raised her right index finger until she brought her chuckling under control. “He refers to him ‘president pervert.’” Still grinning, she shook her head. “All we do is straight, missionary. Nick says oral is disgusting.”
“What about you? What are Rebecca’s thoughts?”
“Well,” she blushed again. “There was this one time in college after I’d been drinking.” Rebecca looked up, a coy smile extending to her eyes. “Maybe, down the road,” she said. “But I don’t want to at this point.” She slid her right hand across the table until it touched Don’s left and murmured. “Would that be okay?”
Don’s eyes motioned to the crowd that had just entered the coffee shop and were filling up the tables. “Let’s continue this conversation at my house,” he said. “I have excellent coffee there, too.”
“You’ll have to excuse the mess in the kitchen,” Don explained as Rebecca stared at the fresh drywall. “I’m in the middle of having it re-done. The floor is all finished and they’ll be back tomorrow to finish the walls.” He spread his arms out. “By Wednesday this is going to look perfect.” He beckoned to the table and chairs in front of the window overlooking the garden. “Have a seat,” he said and proceeded to grind some coffee beans.
“I do like the floor,” Rebecca said, admiring the red clay tiles. “What are the walls going to look like?”
“I want to have a natural, almost outdoorsy feel in here, so it will be wallpaper with a light colored brick and ivy design.”
The espresso machine forced the rich liquid into the carafe with a satisfying whoosh and Rebecca tasted the aroma while Don frothed the milk. He prepared the cappuccinos as if he were creating a work of art, adorning them with freshly grated nutmeg and chocolate before presenting them in front of her on the table. “Voila!”
“I’ve never had cappuccino,” Rebecca admitted as she raised the cup to her lips. “Mmm, delicious,” she looked up with a froth covered lip. “You’re spoiling me.”
“And I’d like to continue to do so. Perhaps you’d also enjoy being introduced to some implements which can be used in conjunction with spanking. I have a leather crop that I’m rather partial to, for example. It makes a most wonderful sound.”
Rebecca’s legs separated under the table as she squirmed in her seat. Why did his words have that effect on her?
“I suspect you might like that.” He added, teasingly.
Rebecca finished her drink and licked her top lip to remove the last bit of froth. “May I use your restroom?” she asked.
“Certainly,” Don replied, still sipping at his cappuccino. “Just down the hallway on the right.”
Rebecca scurried away with a wry smile, returning only a few minutes later without her blue jeans on and her panties dangling from the fingertips of her right hand. She was still wearing the gray blouse but in place of the pink floral bra, which had been so delightfully evident beneath the flimsy material previously, her nipples were now begging for escape against the fabric. The blouse was long enough to cover the top part of her thighs but the darkness of her neatly trimmed pubic mound was clearly visible through it. Eyes averted, Rebecca extended her right hand towards Don, offering her panties to him as she softly murmured, “Please.”
To her delight, Don took her hands in his, coaxing her to look up into his eyes. He took the panties from her and placed them on the table. “I want you to stand in the middle of the room,” he began. “Now, bend over and hold the calves of your legs. That’s right.”
The blouse tickled as it slid across Rebecca’s bottom, completely exposing it by the time she was bent over. Her leg muscles were tight but her thought was not of any discomfort, she simply hoped that Don was enjoying this view of her legs. Always the person in charge of things around her house, here she liked being told what to do and realizing that she was posing for Don’s pleasure was strangely exhilarating. Why was it so important to please him?
“Look at the straps of your shoes,” Don continued. “See how they’re buckled around your ankles? I want you imagine your wrists are also attached to them. Now, look towards me.”
Rebecca’s face turned up and the audible click of Don’s camera committed her priceless expression and perfect pose to posterity. “Don’t worry,” he assured her as he stood and walked towards her. “That’s just for me.”
Rebecca looked down again in anticipation as Don moved silently behind her. She felt something soft brushing upwards against the back of her thighs and tightened her grip. If only her wrists really were attached, she mused. How much better that would be that she would no longer have to consciously keep hold and simply enjoy Don touching her.
“This is a crop,” Don explained as he moved it upwards to lightly stroke her buttocks. “As you can see, it consists of a delightful piece of leather which is capable of providing you with a most pleasant sensation.”
“Mmm.” Rebecca’s eyes were slits.
“And yet.”
Rebecca felt a light tapping on her bottom followed by the sound of a quick snap.
“It can also be quite useful in getting your attention.”
Suddenly, the area that had been tapped was afire, but her senses had been drawn to another area already being tapped. The next snap preceded another bite on the opposite cheek and after six strokes had fallen in rapid succession her entire bottom was hot.
“Hold this for me,” Don said as he pushed the shaft of the crop sideways into Rebecca’s mouth. She was thankful for something to bite down on.
“Very nice,” he examined and caressed her hot bottom. “We have a most even patina.’ He gave each cheek a swat with his right hand then reached down, removed the crop from her mouth and took her left hand in his right. “You can stand up now,” he said, and pulled her towards himself as she did. Don’s left arm around her shoulders, Rebecca snuggled the side of her face into his chest while his right hand massaged her bottom. “Now that you’re nicely warmed up,” he whispered. “I’d better take you to the couch.”
Rebecca eagerly snuggled face down across Don’s lap, soothed by his continued caressing of her still warm bottom. The first slaps seemed to flow out of the caresses but then increased in intensity with each subsequent stroke. Why was the heat from her bottom not registering as pain? How could she be so relaxed and yet so sexually aroused at the same time? Unable to fully comprehend the myriad of sensations she instead simply yielded to them and drifted into an almost dreamlike, disconnected state while Don continued his ministrations. It was her own increased breathing and feeble attempt to squirm against Don’s left hand that returned her to awareness; the awareness that her whole body was trembling with desire. That the fire from her bottom was also consuming her clitoris and it was in desperate need of relief. “Please.” It was barely a whisper falling out of her open mouth. “Please make me cum.” Rebecca had never uttered those words before. Never been in a situation where someone else had that degree of control over her. She would have been willing to beg if Don had told her to, but he made no demands of her. Instead she was rewarded with his hand between her legs and she gushed against him as who knows how many fingers effortlessly slid between her engorged pussy lips. She was completely spent before he removed them and he permitted her to remain in the delight of afterglow across his lap while he used her moisture to soothe her crimson bottom until she was once again able to speak.
“Do you remember, at our first meeting, you asked me what I got out of this?” Don asked.
“Yes?” Rebecca wrapped her arms around Don as she curled up in his lap.
“I like one-time encounters; spanking a woman I’ve just met is exciting for me. I’ve had no interest in developing a relationship in the past because I don’t want to take away from that excitement, that newness.” He kissed the top of her head. “But I do like you, Rebecca. You respond so well to being spanked. So,” he leaned back into the couch and stroked her hair with his right hand, “If we were to make it different each time, we may just be able to figure out a way to make an ongoing spanking relationship work.”
Rebecca looked up. “How would we make it different?”
“When you look at spankings on line, do you ever come across role playing scenes?”
Rebecca suddenly became aware of her heart beating. How did he know? Was she that transparent to him? “I love watching role plays,” she gasped.
“Tell me your favorite.”
There was something about the way he asked that caused Rebecca’s face to turn crimson and she bit at her lower lip, unable to respond, and tried to bury her head into his chest. Don gently hooked her chin with his right index finger, coaxing her face up to look at his again. “Schoolgirl?” he asked softly, to which she vigorously nodded.
“I’m so pleased,” Don’s smile was contagious. “Do you have a uniform?”
“My eldest daughter and I are about the same size. And she goes to catholic school so, yes. I could use one of her old uniforms.”
“Splendid! I’d like you to come back here one day next week and bring it with you; you can change after you arrive. Be a ‘schoolgirl’ and you will meet the ‘headmaster.’” Don nodded slowly and smirked. “He knows precisely how to deal with naughty schoolgirls.”
“Wednesdays are always the best days for me.”
“Then Wednesday it is.” Don smiled broadly at Rebecca; her unasked question was so evident. “You don’t have to worry about any impropriety; the headmaster is simply going to discipline you.”