Cream of the Crop Page 3

  ‘I’ll give you time to get used to that one.’

  Good of him, isn’t it? As it’s burning its way across my blazing bottom, me gasping with pain, the cane whistles through the air again to land with a resounding Thwack!

  ‘Three.’

  ‘Oooww! Enough, Bob!’

  ‘I’ll say when you’ve had enough.’

  ‘Bully! OUCH!’ that was a sharp whack across my thighs.

  ‘That’s enough from you if you don’t want twelve.’

  ‘It hurts!’

  ‘It’s supposed to. Five.’

  ‘Nooooo!’

  ‘Don’t you make a fuss every time. Six.’

  And now he lets me jump up and dance around a bit, rubbing the lines, massaging some of the sting away, but then face down on the blanket is better after a caning like that. Pot of cold cream, gentle fingers creaming my oh so painful bottom, erotic fingers, probing fingers tantalising fingers sliding into wet places... And to think there was a time when this would never have happened. I remember how it all started.

  There had been a secretive air about Bob that I had been aware of for some time. It was driving me insane. I had no idea what he was up to and there were the brown envelopes each month too. He kept them in the one desk drawer that was locked, so I couldn’t get to find out what he was doing. .

  Concentrate. He’ll have no tea tonight if I stand here thinking. No, the toast!

  ‘Jan, what are you doing?’

  ‘Burned the toast.’

  ‘So I can see - and smell!’

  ‘Sorry, Bob, I wasn’t thinking.’

  ‘Come on, that’s not like you! Where’s my efficient wife?’

  ‘I’m still here, just had a moment’s brainstorm, that’s all.’

  ‘I’ll believe you, thousands wouldn’t.’

  A pat on my bottom as he walks off. Now, why did he do that? He’s never done it before. Come on, do something quick, before any more toast gets burned.

  Why not just ask? No. I couldn’t do that! But one day he’ll leave that drawer unlocked, I know he will.

  I just came up here to dust, and the drawer is open! There they are in a neat pile, all the brown envelopes that have been coming. Oh, sex magazines by the1ook of the cover – no, not really sex magazines, are they? I’ll just take a look –

  ‘Jan!’

  ‘Oh Bob, you made me jump. Oh, I’m...’

  ‘Looking at my magazines, I see.’

  ‘No, I was -’

  ‘Yes, you were! Interested?’

  ‘No, I was only looking at them.’

  ‘And I came home early and caught you prying. It is my desk, after all.’

  ‘Yes, I know that, but -’

  ‘I knew your curiosity would get the better of you, my girl!’

  ‘That’s not it,’ I say, but my indignation won’t stand up to his questioning and he knows it.

  ‘I think you should have a spanking, don’t you? For going through my desk and looking at my magazines?’

  I am backing away and he comes after me.

  ‘Bob, I -’

  ‘There’s nothing to say, is there?’

  ‘No, not really.’

  ‘Aren’t you just a little curious? You’ve read some of the stories.’

  ‘And they all say it hurts!’

  ‘But for how long?’

  ‘Not for long.’ Actually I am curious, but admitting it is the last thing I dare do.

  ‘A little spanking, a few smacks, come on, you’ve been a bad girl, haven’t you?’

  ‘All right.’ I don’t feel I have a real choice in the matter.

  ‘Good.’

  ‘But not here.’

  ‘No, of course not here, in the bedroom.’

  I follow Bob to the bedroom, full of questions. How did he get hold of the magazines? Who started him on this? It’s something that hasn’t been mentioned before in our relationship. But later, I’ll have to ask later, right now I’m curious and afraid, a complex mixture of emotions to deal with. In the bedroom Bob sits on the ottoman.

  ‘Come on,’ he says, and pats his knees invitingly. I lie across him, awkward and nervous, feeling exceptionally silly. His bones dig into me. I want to go downstairs and pretend this isn’t happening.

  He pulls my skirt up out of the way and runs his hands over my bottom. I am suddenly inconsequentially pleased I am wearing pretty flowered knickers, and no tights. Then I berate myself for being stupid. What does it matter?

  ‘You’ve got a nice bottom, Jan, did you know that?’

  I say nothing, I’m too scared. What have I let myself in for? This is so undignified; my hands on the floor; my toes hardly touching; all my hair falling down over my face; I feel helpless.

  ‘Ouch!’ The first smack takes me completely by surprise. I’m wriggling like mad and he puts an arm round my waist.

  ‘Now keep still, and it’ll all be over so quick you won’t know anything has happened.’

  He starts smacking me hard, first on one cheek then the other in a rhythm that is extraordinarily painful and oddly humiliating.

  ‘Oh Bob, it hurts, I don’t like it!’

  My bottom hurts, I feel silly which doesn’t help, but the smacks go on. Then he stops suddenly and lets me stand up. I’m on the verge of tears.

  ‘You’ve just about paid for going through my desk.’

  ‘Bob, it hurt!’

  ‘But not for long, you’ll see.’

  I rush to the bathroom to comb my hair and make myself tidy again. I am vaguely disappointed. It seemed to me from the stories that the women got sexual excitement from the spankings and all I got was a sore bottom! But the pain has settled down to a glow and I feel very tender.

  Downstairs Bob pats me as he goes by to the lounge. ‘All right?’ I ignore him. How can I tell him I’m disappointed? He might do it again!

  Later that evening. Bob turns the TV off.

  ‘Time to talk, Jan.’

  ‘About what?’

  ‘About your spanking and about the magazines, about the things I know you want to ask but won’t.’

  ‘All right, tell me about it.’

  ‘Someone at work had a copy of a magazine and I borrowed it. I was intrigued. I’ve long been tempted by your bottom, my love. So I sent off my subscription. I wasn’t sure how to approach you with this new feeling, so I left it to your natural curiosity. I knew you’d look for them.’

  ‘And what would you have done if I hadn’t looked? You took quite a gamble.’

  ‘I’d have left one out for you,’ he retorts, ‘but I know how nosy you are!’

  Well, I can’t deny that!

  ‘Did you like it?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘Not at all?’

  ‘No, it hurt!’

  ‘Now you’ve had one spanking we can try again, if you want. But this time we could make an erotic experience out of it, not just over my knee like that, although I must admit even that gave me a thrill.’

  ‘No, it just hurt, I don’t want to try again.’

  ‘Read some more magazines and think about it,’ he says and then changes the subject.

  During the next few days, despite my protestations, I find myself drawn to reading the magazines. But I can’t bring myself to read them in front of Bob, so I go and have a quiet read when the housework’s done and Bob’s at work.

  One night, sitting by the fire, Bob asks:

  ‘Have you read any more?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘And how do you feel about it?’

  ‘About what?’

  ‘Jan, don’t be difficult, I want to spank you again!’

  ‘But I haven’t done anything.’


  ‘I don’t need an excuse, do I?’

  ‘I suppose not.’

  ‘I’ll invent one if you like.’

  ‘There’s no need. I can’t see how you get an erotic experience out of it, though.’

  ‘Let’s think about it for a moment. Did you feel anything when I offered to spank you again?’

  ‘A feeling, yes, a sort of -’

  ‘The beginning of a sexy thrill?’

  ‘Well -’

  ‘Jan, don’t play. I want to know if we can go on with this, or whether it’ll be me reading the magazines and you taking no part in it, or whether we work it out between us and add a new dimension to our sex lives.’

  ‘All right, I did feel a funny sort of thrill, yes.’

  ‘That’s all right then. When you learn to associate the spanking with sex, good sex, then the thrill will get stronger and it’ll be good for both of us.’

  ‘Well -’

  ‘Doubting me again? The only way to find out is to do it.’

  ‘And that’s just what I don’t fancy doing!’

  ‘Ah, Jan, come on, a big girl like you can take a spanking, I know.’

  ‘I’m admitting nothing!’

  ‘Try once more? Upstairs, see what we can get out of it?’

  ‘Yes, all right.’ What on earth made me agree? Must be crazy!

  We lock the house up for the night and go upstairs. Bob watches me as I undress, slowly as always. I like to take my time, to entertain him, I always have done, and the fact that he is erectly ready for bed immediately afterwards shows what effect I have on him.

  As before, I carefully lie across his legs. Being naked certainly adds a new dimension to all this, I feel almost sexy and, considering the sheer indignity of the position, that’s crazy! He spends some time just caressing me, sliding his hands across my cheeks, round my hips, touching my stomach and going back again, down my spine, almost lazily. It feels nice but I’m aware that I’m tense and holding every muscle as tight as I can. I still feel silly though. He starts slapping carefully, almost gently and I stop tensing up.

  ‘That’s better,’ he comments as I relax. He slaps a little harder, just a little and I’m tingling. ‘Going a nice shade of pink.’ The slaps are getting harder now, or is it me getting tender? Either way it’s beginning to sting a little.

  But I can take it, it doesn’t bother me too much.

  ‘Don’t wriggle,’ he says warningly. Was I?

  ‘Why not?’ I ask from under my hair. It’s all fallen forward over my face.

  ‘Because I said so. I want you to get used to lying still and taking a spanking.’

  My bottom must be going red now, it’s getting painful and it takes a supreme effort to stay still, to absorb the feelings. Quite suddenly he lands two very hard slaps right in the middle of each cheek.

  ‘Ow! That was unfair!’

  ‘No, they should all have been like that. Come on. Come to bed.’

  A quick glance in the mirror shows the contrast between smooth white body and glowing red bottom. But the feelings that go with it are more mixed than that. I lie on the bed, face down, while he sits on the side and gently strokes me just as he had before the spanking. His fingers are sliding, touching, finding secret places to enter, to probe, to excite.

  ‘Is it hot?’ he asks, as if he didn’t know! The back of his hand could tell him!

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Does it hurt?’

  ‘Not really.’

  ‘You were very good,’ he whispers.

  And the seductively sexy feeling I felt increases, my legs part almost of their own volition, and he slips two fingers inside me. I writhe and move against their rigidity, revelling in the waves of excitement. I roll over and hold out my arms.

  ‘Now,’ I gasp and Bob enters me, erect, hard. The pressure of his body pressing my red bottom into the bed adds to the feeling and I climax swiftly and violently.

  ‘Hey, you do learn fast!’

  ‘I didn’t mean it to be quite like that.’

  ‘But it was - and it was good!’

  ‘Yes, it was good.’

  Lying close together in the afterglow of lovemaking, I agree, it was good.

  ‘Next we can try your slipper and then the hairbrush.’

  ‘Hold on, you’ve not consulted me about any of this.’

  ‘Do I have to?’

  ‘It’s my bottom!’

  ‘And our pleasure,’ he says and I can’t argue with that!

  It’s been about a week now since I had a spanking and I’m beginning to feel restless, a new feeling for me. I refuse to mention it as I’m determined not to let Bob think I’m that interested, not yet anyway. But I have a feeling that tonight something is going to happen. Bob keeps eyeing me and he’s patted my bottom twice already since he’s been home. There’s nothing on TV tonight we want to watch, so we’ll have to see.

  ‘You’ve been a naughty girl today,’ he whispers as he passes me.

  ‘Right first time!’

  ‘What’s that supposed to mean?’

  ‘I thought we were overdue for another painful session.’

  ‘Oh Jan, you’re being very unfair, it isn’t painful and I’ve said nothing.’

  ‘Yes, you have and anyway, one more pat on my bottom and I’ll have had a spanking!’

  ‘Rubbish, but as you’ve mentioned it -’

  ‘You see?’

  ‘All right, I won’t deny it, I can’t! Shall we try one of your slippers tonight, just to see what it does?’

  ‘Must we?’

  ‘Yes.’’

  Having been forewarned by Bob’s attitude I’ve dressed for the occasion in my very best scarlet undies, edged in black lace, the knickers are the briefest I possess. Scarlet is appropriate for the way I think my bottom will look when it’s over! Bob is sitting on the ottoman, watching me.

  ‘Very nice,’ he says approvingly. ‘Bring me a slipper when you come over here.’

  ‘Must I?’

  ‘Any more of that and I’ll really spank you! Now, get over here please, with a slipper.’

  ‘Yes, Bob.’

  Oops! Better be careful!

  ‘Thank you. Now, knickers off, please. Nice as they are, tight as they are, I’d rather spank a bare bottom, if you don’t mind.’

  ‘Do I have any say in the matter?’

  ‘Not really.’

  I hook my thumbs in the tight knickers and slowly ease them over my hips and kick them off, sensing my own rising excitement, catching a glimpse of moisture in them as I toss them aside.

  ‘Now over, please, Jan.’

  Why does this always feel so silly at first? Hands on floor one side and very vulnerable bare bottom exposed to Bob’s eyes and anything else he cares to use. |

  ‘These slippers are nice to hold, I can get a good grip on the heel and bring it down on you like - this!’

  ‘Ow!’ Oh it stings, there is a smack on the other cheek!

  I like this. Bob is smacking evenly, first one side and then the other and it’s stinging and getting sore already, it’s a strange feeling, not personal like a hand, it’s harder, sharper, covers a larger area and stings!

  ‘I think it’s time to stop,’ he observes, not a moment too soon as far as I’m concerned. ‘You’re getting very red.’

  ‘It feels like it!’ I slide off Bob’s legs onto the floor.

  ‘Oh oh oh oh!’

  ‘Have a look at yourself,’ he suggests.

  The mirror holds a shock for me.

  ‘Oh look at me, you’re wicked. That’s the reddest I’ve ever been!’

  ‘Come to bed,’ he says and who can resist such an invitation after that?

  �
��Listen,’ Bob says, as he is busy brushing down his trousers with the wide-backed wooden clothes brush that hangs in the hall. ‘Fancy this across your lovely bottom?’

  ‘No.’ I don’t even have to think about it.

  ‘Come on, you’re being a spoilsport.’

  ‘Am I? I call it self-preservation!’

  ‘No, Jan, really, I’ll go easy.’

  ‘Well -’

  ‘That’s good enough, it means yes.’

  ‘No!’

  ‘Yes. too late to say no. Tonight then.’ And he swings me round and gives me a smack with the brush which stings even through my clothes.

  ‘Hey, that hurt!’ I protest.

  ‘I promise not to do it that hard tonight,’ Bob grins. ‘Bye for now.’

  When Bob comes home that night he tosses me an envelope.

  ‘Have a look at the back page, it might interest you. It’s a catalogue from a sex supermarket, full of unbelievable items, but at the back is a small advertisement for canes. My stomach flips over at the thought. Bob comes down from having a wash.

  ‘What do you think?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘Jan, you’re always saying that.’

  ‘I know, but a cane?’

  ‘Why not?’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘Because no spanking games would or could be complete without a cane, read the magazines, Jan.’

  ‘I have.’

  ‘All right, forget it.’

  ‘I will.’

  ‘But you’ve not forgotten what we’re going to do tonight?’

  ‘No, I haven’t.’

  Surprisingly he’s dropped the subject. Very unlike Bob, that is. I’d lay odds we haven’t heard the last of it. For now, as he’s reminded me, I have the clothes brush to think about! And why is it when something threatens time simply flies by? It seems no time before supper is over and it’s time for the long walk upstairs. I am a quivering apprehensive mess. Bob snatches the brush as we pass the hall stand. Help!

  ‘And what sexy undies do I have to look at tonight?’

  ‘Nothing special.’

  ‘Doesn’t matter.’

  ‘Just as well!’