I love watching Beth "explode." As she goes over the edge, she begins to whimper slightly, her whole body spasms, and then she screams loudly enough to make you think she's in pain. I've had to hold my hand over her mouth more than once lest we scare the neighbors. She's the most affectionate female I've ever met after she comes down from her high. She loves to cuddle and kiss after making love. I speak about this gentle part of her because it is so different from her other side. You see, Beth is into spanking.
When I make love to woman, especially when she's on top, I like to slap her buttocks lightly, just enough to give them a warm glow. It really spices up the sex for me, and usually for my partner. In Beth's case, it became a ritual, a requirement, and she often demanded a little roughness shortly before one of her "explosions."
She came over to my apartment one Saturday night dressed in a light-blue denim skirt and a white cotton short-sleeved blouse that was just transparent enough to show the outline of her lacy bra. The skirt was hemmed at mid-thigh, and the light-brown pantyhose gave her legs a nice smooth, tanned look. Nothing fancy, but the outfit showed off her long, lithe legs nicely. We were sitting on the sofa watching television when a John Wayne movie came on. During the movie, he spanks a woman. When it came to that scene, Beth got up and turned the television off.
"What's the matter?" I asked.
"It reminds me of something...." she replied, her voice trailing off and her mind obviously racing.
She came back to the couch and sat down, then threw her arms around me and gave me an affectionate hug, interspersed with tiny kisses to my ear and neck. I could tell she was turned on. Usually I was the aggressor, but this night something had made her super-horny.
"What got into you?" I asked with a laugh.
"The movie did."
"John Wayne?" I was jealous.
"No, what he did..."
"The spanking?"
"Uh-huh."
"I have to admit that I was a little aroused by it, too. Sometimes a spanking can be erotic," I said, "but usually girls aren't quite so open about it."
I could sense that Beth was thinking about something. She paused for a while, then blurted, "I like to be spanked. I think it's very erotic... if it's done right." Her face reddened perceptively upon making the admission.
"Is that why you like me to whack your butt when we make love?"
"Yes, of course, silly. It brings back good and bad memories."
"Bad memories?"
I began scratching her back lightly as she spoke, feeling along the edges of her bra beneath her cotton blouse. She relaxed into my arms and rested her hand on my shoulder. It was obvious she had something to get off her chest. I let her go on. "When I was growing up, even through my last years in high school, my mother and stepfather used corporal discipline frequently. Even little offenses would result in a spanking. The spankings ranged from mild, just a slap on my behind, to severe, where my stepfather would use a razor strop on me."
Things were getting interesting. I decided on a direct approach. "Why don't you lie over my lap, in the spanking position, and tell me about your spankings," I suggested to her. "Who knows what we might do from there!"
Beth looked at me apprehensively, then changed her expression to a coy smile and said, "I think you want to spank me, don't you?"
"Only if you want me to," I replied.
She was pensive for a moment, then finally dug up the nerve to say, "You know I do."
She then stretched her limp form over my lap without disturbing the hemline of her dress. I was sitting in the middle of the sofa, with Beth draped over me, her legs stretched all the way to the far edge, her chest resting on the cushion to my left. She folded her arms and rested her head on them, turning her head toward me. I smoothed the dress over her tight buns and she shuddered slightly at the touch. She kept her legs closed tightly.
"Is that better?" I asked.
"I like being like this, if that's what you mean," she replied with a slight blush.
My cock began stirring, pressing into her ribs. I know she could feel it. I kept the palm of my hand over the top of her buns, just resting it there on the skirt, where it seemed natural. "Go on...." I said.
"My mother," she continued, "usually used her hand, a hard-soled bedroom slipper or a yardstick on my bare behind, depending on how severely she wanted to punish me. My stepfather used a hairbrush when I was younger and his leather belt later on, as I got older. Quick, impulsive spankings were administered wherever I happened to be when the cause arose and would normally be given through whatever clothing I was wearing."
"Since they sometimes raised my skirt to give me quick spanking over my panties, I found myself wearing jeans more and more to avoid that sort of embarrassment. They seldom made me drop my jeans for one of their 'quickies.' Spankings like that were frightening because they were often accompanied by rage, and were really embarrassing if my friends were around. But they were not particularly painful because I was protected by clothing and because the spankings were generally brief."
"Once, when I called my stepfather a 'bitch' and my mother overheard me, she gave me a bare- assed strapping with a thick leather belt, raising my dress and pulling my panties down, while my girlfriend, Tere, looked on. Then my father came home, and, when he heard about what I had said, he made me go upstairs and get the razor strop from his closet. Tere was still there and she watched, wide- eyed, as he made me strip completely and bend over the edge of the sofa. He really walloped me good, then made me stand in the corner, bare-assed naked, for almost an hour. He never hit me any harder than that time, and I was never more humiliated, what with Tere looking on."
"Did she say anything to you later?" I asked.
"It must have had a real impact on her, because the next day she asked me to give her a real good spanking, but that's another story... That's part of the 'good' memories."
"How were the more severe spankings administered by your parents?"
"The more serious spankings were always administered in my bedroom and were always quite painful. Regardless of the time of day, I was sent to my room with instructions to remove all of my clothing, put on my sheer nightgown, and kneel on the bed, ass up high, poised and ready for whatever they wanted to do. I would then be left like that for anywhere from ten minutes to one hour to contemplate the impending punishment. The longer I was made to wait, the worse I knew it was going to be."
My hand began to roam over the top of Beth's skirt as she spoke, pressing lightly against her firm, highly spankable, ass cheeks. Every so often I could feel her arching her back to push her behind against my roving hand. As my fingertips followed the outline of her panties beneath the thick denim, always ending near her lower ass cheeks, she moaned softly.
"If mom gave me the spanking, she would have me pull my nightgown up to my waist, exposing my naked butt, while she lectured me about my infraction. She would then make me lie face down on the edge of the bed with my legs straight out and my toes just touching the floor, with my bare ass available to her. As she sat next to me on the bed, she applied the palm of her hand, a slipper or the yardstick to my bottom. The yardstick always stung the most because it was thin and hard. Most of my mother's spankings consisted of no more than two dozen strokes, unless I moved. She made no attempt to hold me in place, but if I moved I would be ordered back into position and she would start all over. I can't tell you how many times she reddened my buns over the years, but it was plenty."
I slid my hand down the outside of Beth's skirt, all the way to the hem, as she described the way her mother had spanked her, and noted appreciatively that her legs parted slightly as I touched the back of her knee. I continued to move my hand up and down the back of her skirt, pressing gently into the crack of her divided legs, always moving it back to her ass and kneading the buttocks. I decided to ask Beth what had been different about the spankings her stepfather had given her.
"What about when your father spanked you?"
"One big difference," she said, "is that he always made me stand up and take my nightgown off, so that I was totally naked. Then he made me stand in front of him like that, arms at my sides, while he lectured me about my indiscretion. There was nothing more humiliating than standing like that while he looked right at me. He never stared at my breasts or my pussy, but I knew my body was on display. When he intended to use his hairbrush, he would sit on the edge of the bed and make me lie across his lap... just like I'm lying across yours now. He would spank me quickly ten or fifteen times with his hairbrush while I shouted and cried, lecture me some more while my cries subsided, and then repeat the spanking. Generally he would do this five or six times, sometimes leaving me with bruises that lasted several days if I had done something really wrong."
"Once he began using his belt instead of the hairbrush, he required me to kneel on the bed, head down and bottom up in the air. Sometimes he made me open my legs wide when I knelt on the bed, and that was really embarrassing! Can you imagine how it feels for a young girl to have her legs opened like that, I mean really exposed, in front of her stepfather?"
"It must have been very difficult for you," I said, taking a loving squeeze of her full ass over the top of her skirt.
"There is nothing worse, believe me. Then I was required to count each lash out loud, and if I moved, the whipping would start over. He usually gave me ten lashes without stopping, covering the backs of my thighs as well as my bottom, and then gave me a minute or two before the next set. After two or three sets, especially in the final year or two, he would make me spread her knees really far apart and he would lash the insides of my thighs when he was feeling particularly nasty."
As Beth continued speaking, I became bolder with my hand, sometimes reaching under the hem of her skirt and feeling the delightful smoothness of her pantyhose. In the process, the skirt rode pretty well up her long, sleek legs. Finally, I moved my hand all the way up under her skirt, letting it come to rest on her behind. The mesh of the pantyhose was unbelievably soft beneath my fingertips.
