This story involves spanking. If that is really not your thing then feel free to choose another tale.
*****
We sat at a small table just in the window of the Café Etoile in Paris. It had become the haunt of choice for morning writing. Cassie and I were on an extended indulgence of our passion for writing stories, hoping that Paris would provide both inspiration and the distance from day-to-day worries to allow creativity to spark and flourish.
So it was on this particular early Spring day that we sat opposite one another eyes glued to our respective screens, sipping the thankfully found, good coffee. Glued that is until I glanced up to discover Cassie wasn't so glued to her screen at all, rather she seemed far more latched onto a group of boisterous young male Australians across the room.
I simply sat and gazed at her lovely face, framed as it was by a tumble of curly auburn hair, and watched the rapt curiosity playing so plainly across it. After a seeming age, Cassie turned her eyes toward me and found my gaze and wry smile.
"What?" She enquired sheepishly.
"Oh, I think you know my naughty one."
"There's no harm in looking," she retorted defensively.
"Ah, but we both know you weren't just looking,"
I cocked my head slightly and let my smile broaden a touch as my eyebrows rose enquiringly.
Cassie blustered a little but eventually accepted that she had been caught. Knowing her dirty mind as I do, the fantasy stories that had quite clearly been racing through her head were not difficult to guess at.
"So which one were you fucking?" I whispered, leaning toward her.
Cassie moved around to sit next to me on the bench seat along the side wall of the café. Her hand was warm through my jeans on my thigh.
"The boyish, blonde haired one to the right."
The breath of her whisper played across my ear as her hand gripped a little on my thigh. A delicious thought took seed in my mind and grew with thrilling speed. I placed my hand on her leg, returning her grip.
"And?"
Cassie looked at me with mock innocent enquiry.
"Don't play the prude with me Cassie."
I let irritation seep into my tone for effect. I saw a momentary confusion pass across her features.
"Um, I lured him into a side street."
"I don't want to play twenty questions!" A snarl entered my voice.
Again the sweep of slight anxiety.
"I pretended my car had a flat tyre and I was a bit ditzy and needed help."
This time all that I had to do was play exasperated. Cassie started to look a little perturbed by my act, unsure where this was going.
"I stood close to him in my short dress as he knelt to undo the wheel nuts. I made sure he could see a long way up my thighs, eventually to my lacy knickers."
"You are such a naughty girl," I growled.
Emboldened, Cassie continued with her tale, describing how she had ended up on her knees as the young man leant against the car door sucking his cock deep into her mouth and throat until he released his copious jism to slake her thirst. As she reached the end my hand reached the very top of her thigh, the outside edge from wrist to little finger pressed hard against her sex through her thin leggings and the sexy knickers I knew she had underneath.
"You need to be punished for your sluttishness." I hissed in her ear.
Cassie suppressed a gasp elicited by both my unexpected vehemence and from the pressure on her tingling clit and swelling pussy.
"You don't mind though... do you?" There was uncustomary lack of certainty to her voice.
"I think you need to learn something Cassie."
She looked at me without comprehension.
"I'm going up to the apartment. Come on."
Giving orders to Cassie wasn't something that ever happened in our relationship and I knew she must think I'd lost the plot but I stuck to my ploy. We walked the short distance in silence.
Inside, I shut the door behind us.
"Take off your leggings." The demand softened by the hint of a wry smile.
Cassie looked at me curiously but did as I asked. She stood in just her waist skimming top and sexy black lace knickers that showcased her gorgeously pale, curvy bum. I took her by the hand and led her to the big leather, overstuffed couch. At the right hand end I ushered her to stand thighs against the high rounded arm.