by Frank Martinet
As soon as I could, I got Bianca out of there. I made our excuses to Ken and Darlene, claiming I had an early meeting the next day. The truth was, Bianca was smashed and dangerously close to blurting out all my secrets, not just my preference for conservative politicians.
"You know Ken's a hippie," I growled the moment we were in the car. "You told him I listen to Rush Limbaugh just to provoke him!"
Bianca giggled drunkenly. "You're afraid to debate him," she drawled. "You're a chicken-shit!"
"There's no winning in politics. All it would do is cause me to lose friends. I specifically told you not to bring it up!"
"You can't order me around!"
"Maybe not, but I know one pretty girl who's going to be sleeping on her belly tonight!"
Bianca giggled again, bringing her knees up to her chin and hugging them. "You think I'm pretty?" she said seductively.
"Put your seatbelt on."
"No!"
She sounded just like a petulant child. "You're already in for the paddling of your life. Don't make it worse."
There was silence for a moment. I concentrated on the road to distract me, merging onto the freeway. I finally heard the gentle snick of the belt and the click as she snapped it in place. It seemed a bit of rationality had penetrated her drunkenness.
"Are you going to use the hairbrush?" she said softly.
"For starters."
She sucked in air sharply. I glanced at her and she was biting her lower lip in fear, but I could see her eyes glowing with excitement. I knew the anticipation was huge for her, so I encouraged it.
"When we get home, you're going to go straight to our room. You're going to strip off every stitch. Then I want you to set out the hairbrush, the sorority paddle, and the leather belt on the bed. Then it's corner time for thirty minutes while you think about just how hard I'm going to blister your buns for your inexcusable behavior tonight."
Bianca shivered. She gave the faintest nod, a little half-rebellious toss of her head, and stared silently out the window. She was sobering up fast with each mile. We'd be home in ten minutes and she knew it. She chewed her lip and her expression was delicious. In her crimson evening gown with the deep cleavage and the diamond pendant at her throat, she looked stunning. I'd never seen her so beautiful, but of course I thought that all the time. It seemed every time I looked at her she was more beautiful than before. It didn't even matter what she wore. In jeans or sweatpants or completely naked, she glowed with youth and beauty.
I felt myself becoming aroused already, anticipating the spanking. Bianca's ass is to die for. It's surprisingly large for her slender figure, the smooth satiny cheeks meaty and delightfully round. And tonight she'd given me the excuse to really roast her and I could hardly wait.
While I parked the car and closed the garage door, Bianca hurried off on her nervous errand without a word. I went to the den and fixed myself a drink. I needed it. I'd had mostly water at dinner, knowing I had to drive home. By the time I peeked upstairs, Bianca was nude in the corner exactly as ordered.
God, she was gorgeous. I studied her from outside the room so she wouldn't know I was watching, and I could see her long naked back shiver with anticipation. Her buttocks, large and bulging, shook as she fidgeted. I admired the smooth, honey-colored flesh for several minutes until the erection I was getting was too painful, and then I slipped downstairs for another drink. I caught part of Sportscenter on TV, keeping the volume low so as not to distract Bianca - or myself, for that matter. I was just killing a little time as I knew the delay would increase her excitement and nervousness.
By the time I arrived to the bedroom, I guarantee the adrenaline was flowing. I checked and saw the implements were properly laid out on the bed as instructed. Bianca was still in the corner, hands behind her head. She'd undone her reddish-brown hair so it flowed down her shoulders, and when she looked back at me with her cheeks sucked in I could see the frightened whites of her eyes as her pupils went large with alarm.
"Mark, I'm really sorry," she panted. "I didn't mean to get so drunk. I didn't mean to say that stuff-"
"Quiet. You know what you did and you know what has to happen now."
"Please! I'm sorry!"
"You're going to be." I sat on the edge of the bed and patted my lap. "Get over here. I'm going to be merciful and warm you up with my hand, first."
She nodded, shivering all over. Her huge breasts shook. I saw the big nipples were stiff like stubby thumbs and I knew she was aroused. She glided over to me and slid over my legs. It was a very comfortable position, with most of her body supported on the bed. But the star attraction was her butt, which was poised on my right thigh in just the perfect position for spanking.
Bianca was breathing rapidly. Panting, really. I couldn't tell if it was in fear or excitement, and I didn't think it much mattered. I palmed her left cheek, my hand not even able to grasp the entire hemisphere. I squeezed hard and I felt her body tense and she grunted. Her ass was firm from her endless workouts but fortunately for me there was still plenty of shapely meat to work with. I like a girl with 'junk in her trunk' and Bianca fit the bill perfectly.
The first few spanks were mild. Oh, I'm sure they stung a bit. Bianca sure gasped as though I was branding her with a hot iron, but we both knew that a hand spanking was nothing. The real torment was coming. She wiggled like an eel across my legs as I spanked her, her bottom starting to glow a faint pink. Her breathing was nearly frantic.
"Ooohhh," she moaned. "How bad is it going to be, Mark? Oh, I can't take it, I can't!"
"You're going to take it," I said. "You've got it coming and you know it. You were disgraceful at dinner. I've never been so embarrassed. Why is it that a single martini causes you to lose all control over your tongue?"
"I don't know. I'm so sorry, Mark! You know I am. It won't happen again. I swear it won't! Please, just let me off this one time!"
"I'm going to blister these cheeks," I growled, fondling the orbs in discussion, and then I gave both halves sharp slaps that made Bianca yelp. "You're going to have a purple bottom."
The woman writhed on my legs and I swear I felt wetness on my trousers. She was trying to hump me!
"Oooh, take me, Mark!" she hissed. "I'm so turned on!"
"We have business to attend to first," I said firmly, and I picked up the walnut hairbrush. The sturdy implement had a wide oval head almost as big as my hand. The six-inch handle was smooth, sculpted artfully to fit into my grip flawlessly. I raised the brush to my forehead and brought it down soundly on Bianca's right cheek. The explosion of hardwood against vulnerable bare flesh was music. The frightful sting made the lovely Bianca scream and she jerked so much she nearly slipped off my knees to the floor.
"Settle down, little fish," I laughed, gripping her tighter to me. Her gorgeous bottom still danced frantically. Her howls when I brought the brush down on the left cheek made me wonder about the neighbors. But I was drunk with lust and the two oval rose patterns on the plush buttocks had me ready to fuck. I watched as the coloring deepened, the brush marks taking on a wonderful rouge.
The third spank of what I knew was going to be a long, hard spanking of hundreds, set Bianca's butt on fire. "Avocado!" she screamed frantically. "Avocado!"
Then she was rolling off my lap and clutching at her bottom and rubbing furiously.
"What the hell, Bianca! We've barely started!"
"I'm sorry, I just can't take it. That brush is murder!"
"You're barely pink."
"I don't care. It burns so awfully."
She looked oddly ridiculous, standing there nude and rubbing her butt, her sour expression so out of proportion to the pain she was experiencing that I felt my erection deflating.
"Fuck!" I muttered, rising up and tossing the brush aside.
"Wait! Maybe... maybe we could try it again," she said hesitantly.
"It's too late. You blew the scene," I snapped, perhaps more sharply than I intended. She reacted as though slapped.
"Well, fuck you!"
She stormed off into the bathroom, slamming the door and locking it behind her. I went back downstairs for another drink, this time a double. I slammed it down and poured another.
Rage and frustration coursed through me. I was tempted to march upstairs, kick the bathroom door down, and drag Bianca kicking and screaming to the bed and do what I'd originally planned times ten. I'd blister her butt raw and fuck her up the ass for all the trouble she'd caused.
Of course, this was just venting. I may be a bastard in some ways, but there's one code I live by and that's that all sexual activity must be consensual. The safeword was law. There was nothing higher. It had to be that way. I adored Bianca and didn't want to truly hurt her.
The odd thing was that Bianca wanted to be spanked. She wanted it to be hard, too. She'd been purposely goading me all night. I knew that the spanking we had planned was her fantasy as much as mine. But she always did this: as soon as the going got tough, she bailed. She loved the idea of being paddled beyond endurance, but the reality was just too much for her.
Tonight had really been ridiculous with all that build-up and then what, three smacks with the brush? That was ludicrous. Usually she could take a dozen or so. A few times she'd managed more. Once I'd gotten her to take a pretty good sorority paddling. I'd had to mix a lot of lighter spanks in with a few real ones, but she'd taken about thirty all together. It was enough that we were both as randy as hell and fucked for half the night afterwards.
God, I loved her body and longed to really spank her some day. We'd practiced trying to get her tolerance up, and in rehearsals, so to speak, she did pretty good. But the moment it was time for the real thing she was overcome with nerves and couldn't resist the safeword. It was so damned frustrating.
Maybe we shouldn't have a safeword, I thought, not for the first time. I knew some couples did that. But Bianca was a deeply sensitive girl. Going into territory that truly frightened her could be devastating psychologically. It'd be like forcing a person with vertigo to jump off the top of the Empire State Building. Even with a parachute, the experience would shatter her mind forever.
Sighing, I went back upstairs. The bathroom door was still closed. I tapped gently. "Bianca, honey? Are you okay?"
She took a while to respond, so long that I was just beginning to becoming genuinely worried. Then I heard movement. "Are you still mad at me?" she said in tiny, little-girl voice.
"Disappointed. I'm not mad."
After a moment the door opened and she was in my arms, sobbing. I forgave her, as I always did. I could hear her pain and I knew this hurt her as much as it did me.
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