Span Me Please!

I heard the door open, and looked up. There he was, right on time. At 7:55 each morning, Joshua came into the coffee shop near campus, where I was working as a barista. I'd been there about six months, since the start of the school year, and had gotten to know several of the regulars pretty well. But Joshua especially. He was an attractive man, which had gotten my attention initially, but more importantly, we had instantly hit it off.

We bantered back and forth in our brief conversations each morning, obvious chemistry fueling our jokes and stories. He had an uncanny way of remembering everything I'd ever shared with him about my life. From a series of two-minute interactions each day, he had pieced together enough information about me to come up with surprising insights now and then, and he was one of the few people who always noticed if I was especially happy or a bit down.

And then there was his meticulous persona, which fascinated me. He was always impeccably dressed, his tailored suits showing off his strong physique. He always kept the same routine, arriving at the same time and ordering the same drink: a grande low-foam latte, at exactly 169 degrees. And believe me, as charming and friendly as he could be, he wasn't afraid to send back the drink if it wasn't exactly as he liked it. This behavior in itself could have been irritating, or at least comical. But he also had an easy-going confidence that was endearing.

Joshua was 39, he had shared one day, to my 20. He was a divorced businessman, and I was a single college student. But in spite of these differences, our friendship was easy, never forced. Our banter sometimes bordered on double-entendre, and I'd noticed him checking me out now and then, but somehow it didn't bother me the way it might with other guys. He never failed to pay more attention to my mood or my words than my chest, and that was enough for me to trust his motives.

I should probably explain that I am an unusually attractive young woman, so attention from men is nothing new. I'm 5'8" and sexy, 36-28-34. My most noticable features are my natural red hair, which I wear long and in waves, and my big blue eyes. As a somewhat jealous friend said to me once, quoting her favorite 80's movie, "I don't think it's a matter of opinion, empirically you are attractive."

Which was all well and good, but I tried to explain to her that it didn't automatically bring me what I wanted from a relationship. Believe it or not, a girl can grow tired of guys obsessing over her perfect body and doing everything in their power to get her in the sack.

Joshua interrupted this daydream with another of his uncanny comments.

"So, Amanda. How's life? Do you have all that you want and need?"

I blushed. How did this guy always seem to know what I was thinking?

"Well, I can't say I have everything, but I can't complain, either!"

"That's a great attitude, but a beautiful, talented young woman like yourself shouldn't settle. You should go for what you want."

"Well, OK, but I don't know if I can do that right here in the coffee shop," I replied with a wink, a deliberate attempt at double entendre.

Smiling, Joshua made the most of an opening I hadn't even realized I'd given him. "Well then, perhaps it's time you let me take you away from here, so that we can talk more about exploring your desires in life. Let me buy you a drink sometime?"

I blushed again. I had told myself when I took this job that I wouldn't date customers. But this was different - it was Joshua, who had become my friend. And it was also Joshua, a very attractive and intriguing man I'd be happy to have a drink with. What the hell.

"OK, sure, I'd love to!"

"Great. Shall we say tomorrow evening? Looking forward to it already, Amanda."

The time passed like molasses. I have to admit, it surprised me how much I was looking forward to the date, like a giddy schoolgirl. Would I enjoy his company as much on a 'real date' as I did in our brief moments together at the coffee shop? Could he possibly offer me something I hadn't yet found in a relationship? That element that was missing with the younger guys I'd been out with recently?

We had agreed to meet at the bar. I was so nervous that, even after taking an hour to settle on my favorite little black dress, I still showed up 15 minutes early. I ordered a glass of red wine and waited. When he arrived, right on time of course, he spotted me instantly, and gave me a warm smile and wave from across the room. He joined me at the bar and ordered a drink - Maker's Mark Manhattan, straight up, with a cherry. Of course.

"So, Amanda, you're looking lovely this evening. How are you?"

Still waiting for the alcohol to calm my nerves a bit, I babbled. Told him about my classes that semester, about the phone conversation I'd had with my mom that day, about tensions between baristas at the coffee shop. When I realized I'd talked for ten minutes straight, I came up with an open-ended question for him, hoping he'd take over.

"So, how did you get into the construction business?"

I knew he owned his own construction company, but had no idea of the story he shared with me now, about how he had started at the very bottom, as an hourly worker on jobsites, and worked his way up. I studied his strong hands as he talked, and admired his ability to move from grunt work to company ownership.

He then moved on to sharing a bit more about his divorce - it came up because he'd had a phone call from his ex just before joining me that evening. She was a 'good woman,' but there were certain unmet needs in the relationship, and it just wasn't working out.

"So, Amanda, let's get back to our conversation yesterday. It's clear to me that there's something you want out of life that you're not sure how to get, or you're afraid to ask for."

Again, just as I had yesterday, I blushed. Did that give him a clue?

With a wink, he asks, "Surely a hottie such as yourself is able to get laid anytime she likes, so that's not the problem?"

I laugh, and confirm that indeed, I have no trouble finding men who want to get inside my pants.

"But I notice that you didn't object when I brought up sex, so that makes me guess that your unfulfilled desire is sexual, perhaps something you think is a little kinky?"

This time, I blush hotter than I have before. I feel like my entire body must be bright red. Before I can stop myself, I nod, confirming that he is on to something.

"Since you're here with me, I'm assuming your desire isn't to be with another woman?"

"Right."

"And more to the point, since you're here with me, there's something that intrigues you about being with a strong, exacting man."

After a long pause, he continues, "An older, demanding man. You want to be spanked, don't you?"

I immediately break eye contact with him and look down at the table, humiliated. He's right, of course, but I hadn't admitted it even to myself until I heard the words come out of his mouth. And his perception has left me feeling terribly exposed and vulnerable.

"Look at me, Amanda. Amanda. Look into my eyes. You don't need to be ashamed. Tell me what you want."

I blush once more, and squirm in my chair, but don't take my eyes off his.

"I want you to spank my ass."

He smiled, and let my admission float in the silence of the air for a moment before replying.

"I thought you looked like you needed a spanking. Why don't we finish up here and go back to my place?"

After a short drive, we arrive at his place. Nothing about the apartment surprises me; it is impeccably tidy and organized, but also very warm and inviting, with beautiful artwork gracing the walls and candles, which he proceeds to light, everywhere.

He leads me to the bedroom and asks me to sit on the edge of the bed. Moving slowly and methodically (or does it just seem that way to me, my heart racing), he opens his closet door and then the lowest drawer of a dresser within. One by one, he pulls out various objects and places them gently on the bed next to me.

A silk cloth. A belt. A leather paddle. A long, thin, carved piece of wood. A small metal rod. A plastic ruler. I'm terrified, but also intrigued. And wet.

Standing over me, Joshua asks, "Amanda, are you sure you're ready to do this?"

I nod, looking up at him with a combination of bewildered innocence and excited lust.

"OK, then I'm going to ask you to follow my instructions. Keep in mind, you need to trust completely and follow instructions exactly, otherwise the punishment may be even greater."

I nod again, and await his first instruction.

"Stand up, turn around, bend over, and keep your hands on the bed."

When I did so, I realized that I could no longer see Joshua, or the various implements he had set out on the bed. It was then that I truly realized my vulnerability. With no way to anticipate what was coming next, I couldn't possibly prepare myself. I was completely at his mercy.

SLAP. I recoiled, jumping away from the pain, but quickly remembering his instructions and resuming my position.

"Good girl. That was my hand. Would you like it harder? Softer?"

"Softer."

SLAP. His touch was ever-so-slightly less harsh. And so our rules were established. He was in charge, and I was to follow his rules, his directions. But he would ask what I liked, ask for my guidance for his next touch. If ever I forgot myself, and reached back in an attempt to take control, the punishment was swift. He would grab me by the hair, pressing his body into mine, and whisper into my ear, reminding me of our respective roles. His warm presence, his body enveloping mine, was a comforting but firm lesson.

One by one, he introduced me to each of his toys. For a time, I remained fully clothed. Then, without warning, he yanked my dress up to my waist and pulled my panties down to my knees. Now I felt the harsher sting of each object against my skin - wood, metal, plastic. The pain was incredible, but the rosy warmth that took over after each swat melded with the psychological turn-on of giving up control, and before long I was begging for more.

I quickly learned that my favorite was his hand. He alternated between the lightest brushing of my skin, causing me to quiver with excitement, to the hardest slap of his big hand against my ass, and every touch in between. He would occasionally reward me by letting his hand travel to quickly brush or slap my clit, only to return his attention to my ass before I could move too far towards orgasm.

Suddenly, after a particularly hard slap that left me whimpering, he stopped. Seconds went by, perhaps a couple of minutes, I really couldn't tell. I knew better than to turn and look, and was left alone with my own thoughts and my oh-so-tender ass. Was it wrong to enjoy this so much? Should I worry about the dark reasons behind the fact that I had sought out an older man to spank me? Why was I turned on so much more by tonight's scenario than I had ever been by the standard dinner, movie, and a quick fuck with a guy my own age?

Just when I was on the verge of an answer, understanding that tonight's encounter involved more mutual respect and intimacy than your typical wham bam thank you ma'am, he was back. He pulled my panties all the way off now, helping me step out of them and tossing them onto the bed in front of me. He pushed my legs further apart, leaving my dripping pussy completely exposed.

I jumped as he pressed the cold metal rod against my clit, but began writhing against it as he left it there, pressed firmly against my skin. Just as I was getting into a groove, the rod was gone. Again, I whimpered. Then, silence. More empty time and space, as I wondered what was coming next.

I could feel his warmth as he approached me from behind. He was naked now, and I moaned with pleasure as his cock easily slid between my legs and came to a rest against my pussy. Then, another unexpected sensation, as I felt some sort of cool gel land on my lower back from above. He slowly began massaging my skin, starting with the small of my back as he rubbed his cock rhythmically on my pussy lips.

Soon, his hands were on my ass, but this time with no violent swats, only the gentlest soothing touch as the cool lotion served to ease the pain of my red-hot skin. Gradually, he worked his fingers towards my tight asshole, squirting more lotion there as he arrived.

"Relax," he whispered into my ear, and I responded instantly, my body melting completely into his. Had I known what was coming next, I might have risked the inevitable punishment to object, but by this point in the evening, I had given up trying to anticipate his next move.

He pulled his cock away from my pussy, replacing it with his hand, and thrusting three fingers into me. Groaning with pleasure, I ground against his hand, ready to move towards the orgasm that I assumed he would finally allow me to enjoy. Then, in one smooth motion, he pulled out his fingers and forced several inches of his hard cock into my ass. I cried out with shock and pain, and he froze, waiting for my virgin ass to adjust to his girth.

Soon, pleasure overwhelmed pain, and I allowed him to begin slow thrusts, first just a few inches, then finally his whole shaft. For the first time that night, I felt the roles of our little spanking game slip away. He was beginning to lose control, and was going to allow me pleasure unencumbered by instructions or suspense.

He was soon fucking my ass with total abandon, slamming into me with powerful, fast thrusts. After his hand had fallen from my pussy, I reached back to stroke my own clit, knowing he was too much in the moment to punish me for moving my hand.

I began to succumb to a powerful orgasm, my entire body throbbing with pleasure. I squealed with pleasure as my juices shot from my pussy. Joshua quickly reached down, caught what he could with his fingers, which he then forced into my mouth as he finally let himself go.

He pulled out of me just in time to shoot his load all over my still-tingling ass cheeks. I collapsed onto the bed, and he soon followed suit, slowly stroking my ass as we both recovered from our powerful orgasms.

After making sure I was OK with what had taken place - and I assured him I was more than OK with it - and asking whether I would be interested in a sequel - an enthusiastic yes - he drove me back to my apartment. "See you for coffee tomorrow morning!"

"Yes, bright and early!"