Since childhood, Kara had fantasized about being spanked, by an adult man dressed in a suit. The reasons for the spanking varied, though in her thoughts it was always deserved and meekly submitted to; the man remained more of a symbol than a person, silver haired, firm, and caring deeply for her. When she started to grasp the idea of sex, Kara’s fantasies became erotic, and as she imagined her dream man watching her undress, handling her body, bending her over his knee, and scalding her bottom, she would play with her… down there… and wonder about sex and love and someday having him be real.
She had never been spanked, and never had sex beyond her own touch. But she had orgasms night after night, rewinding her fantasies to play again and again. When she and Maddy became lovers, the experience intensified both the dream and the orgasms.
Watching Holly’s father spank her was like having those imagined images rendered in high definition, in three dimensions, in surround sound, and brought to life. She watched Holly, naked and unresisting, submit to her father’s authority; she drank in the sight of her bottom, reddening until it seemed impossible that she could bear another spank; she felt herself aroused, dripping wet, entranced, and though she bore Holly no ill will, she wanted the spanking to go on forever.
But Holly, weeping, was dismissed. And Kara’s best friend Maddy, shedding her school uniform for the second time, dropped the bomb. “Your turn is next.”
Suddenly, the older man in the suit had a fixed form. Suddenly, spanking flashed from fantasy to future. Suddenly, a fire-hot bottom seemed more terrible than redemptive.
The spanking of Maddy began. She screamed less than her sister had, but kicked more, and at the sharpest pains she threw her head back, sending her long hair flying.
“I should go,” Kara thought. “I should get out of here. Maddy didn’t warn me what I was getting into. I thought we were just going to watch Holly.” Now she watched Maddy’s bottom as the impact of the spanks sent ripples through her buns and legs.
“I can just grab my stuff and go. It’s not like they’ll chase me. I don’t even need my stuff, Maddy can bring it to school tomorrow. I’ll be a block away before anyone even notices,” Kara said to herself.
“I’m not taking my clothes off for her dad. I’m not going across his lap. I’ve only even met him, like, five times. He can’t spank me — I’m not his daughter. He can’t tell me what to do.”
Yet, despite all her defiant thoughts, Kara remained in near paralysis, watching her friend, watching the man with grey hair and a suit and a core of authority. Her dream realized. It was as if she were watching herself in one of her own fantasies, her oldest and most private thoughts.
Kara’s pussy leaked. Without panties to absorb the flow, her honey trickled down her thighs.
Startled, she realized that Maddy’s spanking was over, and that she hadn’t made a single move toward escape. Tear-drenched, Maddy came over to her and reached for the buttons of her blouse. Kara was motionless, transfixed, blushing, trembling, as Maddy stripped her out of blouse, bra, and kilt.
Maddy’s father… Holly’s father… Kara’s solidified fantasy… reached out a hand, and helped Kara fold over his lap. In spanking his daughters, he was always detached, concentrating on granting absolution and reinforcing expectations. But when he looked at Kara, he saw a lovely, sexy, naked girl, in intimate contact and with more to come. It was perhaps inevitable that, in arranging her position, he parted her legs quite a bit more than he had with Holly and Maddy.
Kara’s private anatomy, featuring well-protruding inner lips, drew his attention, but not as much as the abundant girl-cream.
He spanked her.
Kara’s dream became her reality. The spanking took place as she had imagined so many times, as far as positions, postures, and procedures. But she had never imagined the intensity of the pain. One spank was more awful, more stinging, more aching, more shocking, than in her fantasies — and there was not one, but hundreds.
She sobbed like Holly. Kicked like Maddy. Grew aroused, as in her dreams.
After the last swat connected with Kara’s crimson bottom, Maddy’s father did something quite unusual, decidedly presumptuous, and highly effective. He laid his open hand on Kara’s pussy, exposed between her parted legs. Just for an instant — barely enough for Kara to notice.
He held his hand up where Maddy could see it, and spread his fingers apart. Strands of cunt-honey spanned from each finger to its neighbor, glistening and beautiful.
“Maddy,” said her father, “I think you should take Kara back up to your bedroom. Apparently she’s in need of your attention.”
— Frenulum
No comments:
Post a Comment