by Rick Marlowe
I don't know precisely when my interest in spanking as an erotic activity began. At some point I became aware that I was titillated whenever people talked or joked about it, and thought it sexy when a guy slapped a woman's butt. I don't know what it was about the idea of being spanked - it was just so, well, provocative. I certainly am not and never have been submissive. I've heard about women who get off on being ordered around, being humiliated, and so forth, but that isn't me at all. Yet for some reason the thought of me being turned bottom-side up and having my rear end paddled was getting my juices flowing. For the longest time I shared my thoughts with no one, and certainly not my husband. I hardly recognized myself in this fantasy, and doubted how serious I really was.
Then one day I overheard an exchange at a party between my best friend Stacy and her husband Leif where he teasingly threatened to spank her butt. She dared him to do it, and both broke out in nervous giggles. A short while later, they prematurely and inexplicably left the event. My suspicions were confirmed the next day when I pressed Stacy for an explanation. She finally confessed that Leif frequently spanked her, leading to their best sex, and that indeed was what had happened the previous evening. Once she realized I didn't think she was perverted, that I had a genuine interest, she dropped any pretense of shyness on the subject, regaling me with all the details. I got terribly excited by it all, and spent the better part of that Saturday afternoon in self-gratification while imagining myself in her place.
Of course Stacy had exhorted me to enroll Gary in this unique brand of fun, extolling the virtues of what it had done for her and Leif. Steeled by this expression of support, I endeavored to enlist my husband. Unfortunately, Gary wanted nothing to do with it. He laughed when I first mentioned it - he must have thought I was kidding. I felt rebuffed and ashamed of my fantasy. So when I brought it up again, weeks later, I did so in a very theoretical, third-person context. He responded with a discourse on how demeaning such activity was to a woman, declaring proudly that he would never subject me to such abuse.
I persisted, finally convincing him to give spanking a chance. I had to lay myself over his lap. Then he giggled self-consciously while giving me a few half-hearted swats. Certain that he had played out my fantasy, he felt vindicated in his own view when the love-making that followed was passionless and impersonal.
Still I wouldn't give up. Gary was most puzzled when I insisted that we try it all again, insisted that he grab me and throw me forcibly over his knee, insisted that he strike me with much more vigor. I thought we almost had it - but then when I struggled after an especially hard blow, he stopped immediately, apologizing for hurting me, basically turning into a blubbering idiot. We both went to bed frustrated and unsatisfied.
It was that very night that I first had my dream. I was at Stacy and Leif's house. For some reason I was in a room alone with Leif - he smiled knowingly, then grabbed me and pulled me over his lap. Suddenly my backside was exposed, Leif was smacking it mercilessly (somehow I could see the red hand-prints appear on my cheeks from some vantage point in the ceiling), while Stacy had appeared at the door, looking on approvingly. Waking up horny as hell, I fingered myself till I came in a private climax.
This same dream occurred two or three times a week for a month. What most surprised me most was Stacy's role in this vignette. At first, my dream-self felt embarrassed by her witness to the event, but then came to feel excited by it. In the later dream-sequences, the episodes would end with Stacy applying ice and kisses to soothe my pain. I was afraid of how I should interpret this, trying hard to ignore the obvious.
Returning from a shopping trip together one Saturday, Stacy suddenly picked up on our conversation from months earlier to ask if I had been spanked yet. Reluctant at first, I eventually let it spill out, telling her all about my unsatisfying experiences with Gary. Suddenly I found myself blurting out my dream about Leif. Stacy expressed her sympathy, before saying that she was sure Leif wouldn't mind at all. It dawned on me that she thought I was asking permission to let her husband spank me! I became flustered and tried to explain that that was not what I meant, but she just went blabbering on about how she would arrange the whole thing. I stopped my protests when I realized that this was indeed what I had wanted. I began to get very excited.
The event was scheduled for when Gary would be away on his monthly overnight jaunt to corporate headquarters on the east coast. Stacy invited me to dinner. I didn't know how much - if anything - she had told Leif. I chose my outfit carefully. Short, clingy, low-cut red dress, with stockings and a garter belt, lacy panties, and high heels. My make-up I overdid, so that I thought I looked like a bit of a tart - I hoped it was appropriate. I drove to Stacy and Leif's at the appointed hour, took a deep breath in the car, then walked up to the front porch and rang the bell. Stacy greeted me at the door. She looked gorgeous. She wore a sleeveless, backless dress, slit up the side to her hip. Her bra-less breasts danced provocatively behind the silky fabric of the dress.
"Come in! Things are just about ready!"
I hoped she meant the dinner, because, anxious as I was, I wasn't prepared to jump immediately across Leif's lap. I needed some fortification, and a chance for my racing heart to slow. Leif appeared with glasses of wine. He had chosen a more casual look - slacks, and white shirt unbuttoned down to mid-chest and with sleeves rolled to the elbow (ready to go to work?). There was nothing extraordinary about his looks - medium height and build, short brown hair, with slightly receding hairline - but he carried himself with a certain roguish air that, considering what was about to happen, left me feeling quite exhilarated. We each had a glass of wine before dinner, and then a couple more during. I had a fourth while we settled in the living room for some after dinner conversation. It was an enjoyable evening, with talking, a little flirting, singing along with some favorite CDs. Then Leif brought us suddenly back to our purpose.
"So, Stacy tells me you're in need of a good spanking." He grinned broadly. Stacy tittered into her glass. I turned a bright shade of crimson. Apparently she had told him everything. I shifted in my chair.
"Uh, maybe."
"'Uh, maybe?' Stace tells me you can't sleep nights for thinking about it. Sounds pretty certain to me. Don't worry - we're only too happy to help out a friend. Stand up a sec..."
I wanted to shrivel down into my seat, but curiously found myself rising to stand in front of him for his inspection. He directly me to turn around, slowly.
"Ver-ry nice! I can work with that."
I self-consciously tugged at the hem of my dress, unsuccessfully trying to cover my stocking-clad thighs.
"So, how do we do this?" I felt it best to get things moving, before I chickened out.
"Just have a seat. You can be a spectator while I start with Stacy. Right, Stace?"
My friend nodded, her face hardening into an expression of determination. Leif brought a straight-backed chair from the desk in the corner into the middle of the room. Stacy leaned over from the back, and grasped the sides of the seat. She's on the short side, and had to stand on tip-toes to do this. Stacy is pretty thin, but has an ample rear end, which perched there vulnerably. Leif caressed her buttocks and thighs, then lifted her dress and draped it up over her back. As I suspected, Stacy had also chosen garter belt and stockings, but wore no panties. I was a little embarrassed, but also a little excited, to see her exposed that way. I saw now that Leif had, from somewhere, produced a kind of leather strap or paddle with a split end (I later learned it was called a tawse). It whistled ominously as he waved it through the air, limbering up his wrist.
"Ready Stace?" She nodded and closed her eyes.
The tawse whipped through the air, landing repeatedly on Stacy's exposed buttocks and upper thighs. Thin red marks appeared, crisscrossed with one another. Stacy's face was screwed up into a tight grimace, but she didn't cry out. From halfway across the room I cringed at the blows. Just when I thought I couldn't bear to watch any more, Leif halted. He gingerly helped his wife into a standing position. Tears issued from the corners of her eyes. He hugged her, their lips locked together in a deep kiss, their bodies pressed together.
After some time she broke away. "I think I need some ice, hon," she said as she headed for the kitchen. Leif perched on the arm of the sofa.
"Well, Jill, what do you think?" I must have looked ashen-faced. He reached over to hold my chin gently in his hand. "Don't worry, I wouldn't use the tawse on a beginner."
Stacy was returning from the kitchen, holding an ice pack on her rear-end up under her dress. "Honey, stick with your hand," she agreed. "Ow-ie, this really smarts!"
I was grateful.
Leif beckoned me to stand in front of him. He placed his hands on my cheeks, then my shoulders, and in one long motion stroked my arms, my hips, my thighs. He turned me around. I suddenly wanted to run, but Leif, in apparent anticipation of my weakness, grasped me firmly by the wrist. I looked imploringly at Stacy, but she sprawled on the other couch, face in hands, propped on her elbows, drinking it all in. She winked. In an instant I was over Leif's knee. When I squirmed in near terror, Leif held me securely, rubbing my bottom lovingly until I calmed down. I shot another glance at Stacy; she gave me a 'thumbs up'.
I closed my eyes. Leif's hand fell - once, then again, and again, and again, and again. He stopped. I breathed a sigh of relief, but he didn't let me up. Instead, he lifted the hem of my dress and folded it neatly up over my back. His heavy hand began falling once more, squarely across the stretched lace of my panties. Tears filled my eyes. I held them back. Once more he stopped. Was it over? No! His strong hand tugged at my briefs, sliding them off my hips, down my thighs. I wriggled, squealing, "Nooo!!" It did no good. My legs were caught in a vise between his, and his left arm held me securely face-down. My warmed backside felt particularly exposed and vulnerable in the relative chill of the room.
"You're doing great, Jill!" Stacy called her encouragement. "Beautiful rosy cheeks!"
My face cheeks reddened as well, as I remembered that this spectacle had a witness. I vowed to myself to be strong, not to break down and cry. I didn't realize how impossible that would be. For now Leif began to smack my bare bottom in earnest. What had seemed solid spanking before, I learned were only the preliminaries. Each swat now brought a searing pain through my backside. I squirmed.
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