She loved her trips over his knee. She’d feign modesty as her bottom was bared his hands so strong but gentle with her. First the buttons were undone, then the zipper slowly lowered. His touch always so sure, so unwavering. Other times looked at him playfully grinning seductively stripping down as she crossed the room toward him until there wasn’t a stitch of anything left on her except for the hair band keeping her long flowing locks tucked neatly in place before she all but jumped enthusiastically across his lap.
Squirming and writhing in ecstasy as his hand warmed more than her bottom up. Teasing and tempting to her it was foreplay at its best. She liked the tingle and the gentle sting each smack brought. The anticipation of the next one and where would it land and just how crisp would it be. She loved the feeling of surrender but knew she was really the one in control. She’d moan in delight as his hand moved from her bottom to between her thighs brushing over her ever so gently. She’d push herself back into him but maddeningly he would lighten his touch, and tell her “not yet”. She’d pine in frustration as her desire grew and he went back to spanking her, a release unto itself before teasing her again. Slow and rhythmic, he played her sensations like a symphony bringing her to a crescendo.
Oh how it turned her on, oh how she knew the magnificent intimacy of those moments and the ones of pure pleasure that would soon follow as they would melt into each others arms and make love for an eternity afterward. Each billowing heaving breaths in unison with the other as in time they would collapse exhausted into each others embrace, fulfilled each time beyond desire; at least for the moment. It was never discipline, it was never cruel. Each encounter over the years left her always wanting more, longing to feel a little more sting.
Slipping into the bathroom she would admire her glowing bottom in the mirror, looking at it from each and every angle, rubbing her hands over it feeling the warmth still lingering but the sting had long since faded. Savoring the occasional small raised mark a finger had left. She would do this often over the next few hours locking the door for privacy until the color in her cheeks had all but faded.
Tonight would be the night, she would ask to stay across his lap just a little bit longer. He would know what she wanted he had always taken his cues from her so very well. He was in the den reading the house filled with soft light and music dancing through the halls. She opened the glass door to the den. There he was sitting on the leather couch reading. The look in her eyes said more than words ever could of as she slowly began to disrobe.
Something was different he thought to himself attempting to determine exactly what it was as her blouse was discarded to the floor. At last her skirt was cast aside onto the chair. Certain that she had his full and undivided attention turned her back to him and removed her thong, her round bottom in his full view. She reached back to the table where his book had been place and facing him in all her glory reached into the drawer took out a brush with a hair band on it and began to pull her hair up.
“That’s it, her hair was down” he thought to himself. As she set the brush on his book and began a temptingly slow descent across his lap. Fidgeting she moved ever so slightly this way and savoring the anticipation stalling not out of fear but wanting to be perfectly positioned for him. Things began as always, her cheeks began to glow he began to tease. She resisted and didn’t push herself towards him.
In time she could feel his lust for her building, she was determined to stay committed, her bottom warm and tingly his fingers tracing across her seat to her thighs as his fingers slid upward on the inner part. She stated looking up at him “not yet” the words she had heard so many times herself.
Her heart began to flutter. Surely he would know what she meant, he had known her so well all these years. Surely this kind man wouldn’t actually make her say it. She was no stranger to sexual banter, but she hoped she would be spared the need to say what she wanted at least this time. She wanted him to know what she needed. His hand stopped exactly where it was at then made its way across her bottom before reaching for the hair brush.
Her back arched, her bottom danced from side to side as it landed on her over and over. The intensity built and built with each passing second as she wiggled and moved across his thighs. He held her in place a hand just above her well heated backside his forearm extending up her back to between her shoulder blades. Finally putting the brush down on the table his grasp lightened she relaxed, drinking in the experience, the throbbing, the arousal, the need to have him, to whisper uninhibitedly in his ear her passion for him. She slowly stood. “I’ll be right back” making her way to the powder room.
She had never delayed their loved making before after a trip across his lap but she couldn’t wait. She had to see herself right then and there. The old wooden door closed quickly and loudly behind her as she bolted into the bathroom. She admired herself in the mirror, first from one side and the other contorting herself in every imaginable position to admire her well spanked bottom. The deep crimson shade mixed in with a few marks from the brush, she had never been so red. She lingered perhaps a bit too long admiring herself. As she reached to open the door no longer able to contain her desire for him. It was locked. She looked feverishly through the key hole. It was not there. They key had not been inadvertently moved to the other side. She tore through the make up bag on the floor. After a few more moments of ransacking the linen cupboard in desperation realizing that she couldn’t find the key.
The next day she found herself fascinated with the marks he had left on her, posing and watching as she studied each shade and mark. Drinking it all in, her bottom tingled as she ran on the treadmill at the gym reminding her of her adventure. In the locker room adorned with mirrors she couldn’t help but steal glances of herself as she walked to and from the shower. When she got home he patted her on her still tender bottom and asked.
“Red enough for you?” Her face flushed as red as her backside had been the night before, embarrassed that he knew all these years what she had been doing afterwards. Then again she shouldn’t have been surprised he really did know her so well.