A Sunday Afternoon 2

It is a typical Sunday afternoon. A young couple enters the living room together. He is fully dressed. She is completely naked from the waist down, wearing nothing but a casual tight-fitting top. The top makes her very aware of the nakedness of the rest of her body. Her bottom and thighs tingle with anticipation. She is wet between her legs.

He leads her by the hand to the sofa. He sits down, and she goes to her knees in front of him. He takes her hands in his own and kisses them. They look into each other's eyes for a few minutes, treasuring this moment of anticipation. Then, without a word, he gently lifts her hands upwards. That is the signal that she must now stand up, and lie across his lap.

She lowers herself over his thighs. She nestles in, finding the most comfortable position. She relaxes, relishing the feel of his body under hers. He lays a reassuring hand on her shoulder. With his other hand he gently caresses her upturned bottom.

Her weekly spanking is her real life: not her job, nor her family, nor her friends. It is only on Sunday afternoons that she truly comes alive. This where she belongs. She now is where she wants to be, where she needs to be. Over his lap she will receive the thing from life she most craves. She will find her pain, her release, her intense pleasure, and her escape. This is where she will redeem her meaningless existence from the last six days.

She spreads her legs slightly, hoping that his hand will find its way to her most secret places. She wants him to feel her wetness, and to rub her...there. She lifts herself up, hoping.

His hand caresses her bottom, but his fingertips do not venture between her thighs. It is not the moment for that, and she knows it. It is only afterwards, after her punishment, that his fingers will venture between her legs and give her the relief she so desperately craves. He is irritated with this small rebellion on her part. She does this every week, even though she knows that the pain must come before the pleasure.

His hand stops, resting on the middle of her left bottom-cheek.

"Are you ready?"

She nods.

With her signal he raises his hand and delivers a sharp SLAP! to her waiting bottom. He studies the reddish handprint contrasting the tanned skin surrounding it. Soon all of her bottom will be that shade of red, and then will become even redder as the spanking continues.

He waits, taking his time to let her feel the full sting of each swat. She groans slightly and closes her eyes. She has waited all week for this moment, and now, at last, the spanking has begun.

He delivers another sharp SLAP! to her other bottom cheek, then gently rubs the marked area. She gasps, desperately wanting more slaps, and yet, desperately wanting to stretch the spanking out as long as possible.

Another sharp SLAP!, and another faint groan from her. He rubs the marked area, and after a full fifteen-second wait, delivers a fourth SLAP!

He spanks her slowly, lovingly. He knows her and knows exactly what she is seeking from him. He is patient and spaces the swats to let her feel each one and appreciate it. The sight of her squirming reddening bottom arouses him, but it is her desires, not his own, that he must fulfill at this moment.

SLAP!...SLAP!...SLAP!...SLAP! Slowly he guides her to the emotional and physical release she so desperately needs. He keeps his hand on her shoulder to comfort and reassure her, even as he so mercilessly reddens her poor bottom.

However, he also is firm with her when he needs to be. She is squirming too much, lifting up and trying to hard to get him to rub her clitoris with his fingers between the swats. It's not the time for that yet; her sexual satisfaction must wait. He presses down on her waist, forcing her back into position.

"OK, you know will happen if you try to rush things with me. You'll get the paddle and an hour in the corner. Now...do you want the paddle?"

She violently shakes her head and settles back over his lap. She totally hates the paddle and is scared of it. Also, the thought of having to stand in the corner for a full hour with her hands clasped behind her head, no relief at all... Quickly she submits to him and lets him continue. He only had to paddle her once, very early in the relationship. Ever since that one time the mere threat of the paddle makes her behave.

For the next half-hour the living-room resounds with loud slaps and her faint high-pitched moaning. Her sexual tension is increasing along with the growing pain in her bottom. Her bottom now is quite red and beginning to swell.

Suddenly she bites her lip as tears start rolling down her cheeks. This is the moment of her release. She needs to cry, to get her emotional pain of her life out of her system. As she cries, he finishes up with a series of extra hard slaps. Her body now is shaking with sobs.

He stops spanking, and gently rubs his hand over her swollen bottom and her unmarked thighs and lower back. As he rubs her, he keeps his other hand in its comforting position on her shoulder.

She lies crying over his lap, with his hand still on her shoulder, comforting and protecting her. She needs to submit, and she needs to feel the intense pain on her bottom. But this also is the moment she is most vulnerable, when she most needs him to guide her and watch over her.

He slowly rubs her sore bottom and begins to tease between her thighs. Her arousal returns full-force, and the smell of her excitement fills the room. She lifts up her bottom, spreading herself as much as she can. Gently he starts rubbing the sensitive areas between her swollen bottom-cheeks. She is incredibly wet. She has been fairly patient today, and now he will give her the reward.

His fingertips move to her clitoris as he gives her the first orgasm she will enjoy this afternoon. She thrusts her head back and moans as she climaxes, his fingers manipulating her soft flesh through the juices of her arousal.

He leans down and kisses her hot bottom, one kiss on each cheek. The feel of the hot swollen flesh of her bottom on his lips drives him wild. He can't wait anymore. He has spent the last hour satisfying her needs, now it's time for him to satisfy his own. He motions her off his lap and stands up. Quickly he pulls off his pants and shirt. He is incredibly hard, his erection finally freed from its cloth restraint. She kneels before him and gently licks the tip of his penis, but only for a moment. She then lies back on the floor as he settles on top of her. He grabs her wrists and pins them to the floor above her head as he enters her. Her feeling of helplessness gives both of them that extra edge.

He lets go of her wrists to steady himself better as he moves inside her. She grabs his bottom hard with her fingers, digging her fingernails into his flesh. He starts thrusting harder, his mind filled with the vivid memory of her beautiful bottom as it slowly turned red under his hand, his senses filled with the smell and sounds of her total arousal, the pain of his own bottom as her fingernails bite into him. Sweat pours down their bodies as he continues thrusting. She climaxes and after a few minutes, climaxes yet again.

Finally they pull apart, drenched in sweat and completely exhausted. He sits on the floor with his back against the sofa, as she rests in his arms, her head on his shoulder.

Slowly the spell lifts, but fortunately the Sunday afternoon is not yet over. There is no need for the couple to get dressed right away, no need to conform to the restrictions of our society for a few more hours. Tomorrow is another day, but at least she is ready to get through the next week.

Another week! A whole week before the next Sunday afternoon!