A Before Dinner Spaning

I was standing in front of the sink, washing this morning's breakfast dishes, pondering what to make for dinner that night. A new restaurant had opened down the street, and I really wanted to try it, but I knew that it would be super crowded on a Saturday night, so I was trying to think of something I could whip together without going to the grocery. The heavy front door slammed shut, startling me. I had been so lost in my thoughts about stir-frys and garlic bread that I had realized what time it was. She was home from the book reading she had been so excited to attend. Perfect -- maybe she could help me think of something to throw together for us to eat.

Looking up, I realized that she was looking at me intently. I recognized that look, and realized that dinner was just going to have to wait.

In just a few strides, she cleared the living room and had me wrapped in her arms, her lips pressed against mine, aggressively taking me in into a place of submission. I loved her dominant side so much, and thanked my lucky stars that I was finally with someone who knew the true mean of dominance.

In my past, I had dated the "dominant" guys that basically just wanted to beat up on some poor girl who didn't know better, and more recently, the "dominant" women who had looked at me as though I was crazy the first time I dangled a pair of wrist restraints in front of them. No, she was different, a perfect balance between the two. Every day, we discovered new naughty things we liked, and yet were always respectful of each other throughout our sex play. To me, it was the perfect blend, exactly what I had always wanted.

Her hands were distracting me as one pulled off the bandana I had tied around my hair for spring cleaning, while the other was insistently pulling my lavender shirt over my head. Kerchief off, both of her strong hands concentrated on getting my shirt off, and I helped her by casually slipping it off my shoulders. I repaid her by ministering to her buttons, making quick work of her dress shirt as the black fabric slid to a pile in the floor. She stood there in her undershirt and slacks, looking me up and down, with a mischievous look that I knew well. Raising my eyebrow at her, I reached to unhook my bra, waiting for a response from her. At her nod, I took off my bra, my hands cupping my own breasts, fingers running over my nipples, eliciting a gasp as I pinched them.

Sliding my soft hands down my curvy belly, I reached for my waistband to unbutton my pants, but she grabbed my wrists and stopped me, pushing against me as she backed me up against the refrigerator. Her hand snaked between my legs, her fingers expertly rubbing the seam of my tight jeans against my clit just right. God, I wonder if she knew how good that felt.

My body pushed forward onto her fingers, rubbing with her, trying to get closer to the edge, but never quite getting what I wanted. Then her hand left the fabric and she wrapped my hair around her fist, pulling my face towards her as she captured my lips in hers, nibbling my lower lip before deeply kissing me.

She unbuttoned my jeans and shoved them to the floor. My teal lace panties followed in quick order. I started to make a quick mental note about having to pick up the kitchen all over again, but that thought was cut off as she pushed me towards the sink, where I had been washing dishes a few moments ago.

"Open the curtain." Her whisper penetrated deep into my mind, and I looked at her, hot, and excited, but a little worried. I stepped forward towards her.

"But love, it's daylight! The window looks out over the street! Why don't we just move to the bedroom?" Her only response was to force me toward the sink. My stomach pressed into the cold granite counter top as she reached around me, wrenching the curtain open. Shivering with anticipation, I felt her hands reach around me, grabbing my breasts, grasping my nipples, and pulling just enough until a noise that was a mixture of pleasure and a bit of pain escaped my throat. Cars drove past us on the street, and with each one that passed, I got a little bolder. They couldn't see us in here, right? I placed my hands over her, rubbing my breasts, and then I reached behind me, grabbing her ass. Wrong move.

"Bend over the sink. Now." I had played her just right, as a femme is wont to do. Moving my hands to either side of the stainless steel, I bent over as much as I could, and wiggled my butt at her. I was going to get myself a hot spanking, and the whole neighborhood could see it if they were so inclined. Previously, I had never thought of myself as an exhibitionist, but I was surprisingly turned on by the thought that Mrs. Johnson might walk by with her Pomeranian and see my lover spanking my ass.

I could feel her hand rubbing my cheeks in circles, preparing me for what was to come. She leaned over, her chest pressing against my back, her breath on my earlobe, her lips gently kissing my neck, asking me if I was ready. All I could do was nod. Standing back up, I felt her change her stance, and suddenly, smack. She started out lightly, her hand gently striking my bottom, alternating sides. Smack, smack, smack, smack. She built up a rhythm, slowly but surely increasing the pressure before stopping. Waiting for her, I felt myself tensing, not knowing when the next one would fall. Suddenly, SMACK. Almost as soon as her hand fell, it was rubbing the sting away. SMACK. Other side, and again with the rubbing. I could feel my clit electrify with sensation, the feelings running though my ass to my vulva, taking me closer and closer.

Her foot nudged my legs apart, and I spread them to the best of my ability, still standing up enough to balance on the kitchen counter, dinner plans now long forgotten. A soft touch on the inside of my right thigh made me jump, but it was just her fingers on the way to my cunt, tiptoeing up my legs on the way to their destination. Her finger touched my clit, and I thrust my pelvis against her as she pulled away, only to shove two fingers into my dripping cunt. Spanking turned me on so much, and she knew it. She wiggled them inside of me, just enough to get me to a new level of arousal before pulling out and stepping back, away from me. A moment later, I could hear her opening drawers and fumbling around, but I knew better than to turn around or ask her what she was doing.

WHACK. That was a different sensation, definitely not her hand. It stung more, but was smaller. WHACK. Other side. What the hell was it? I couldn't figure it out for the life of me. Again, she leaned forward, this time presenting the object in front of me. "Kiss it." It was a spatula, the rubber kind I used when making batter for brownies, cupcakes, etc. I never would have thought of it in a sexual sense, but as my lips touch the cool surface, my mind began to think of all the uses I could have for some of my everyday kitchen tools.

WHACK. There is was again. I actually rather liked this one. I enjoy the specified sting it provided, unlike her hand which seemed to cover a large area. Her finger nails raked down my back and I arched up into her, pressing harder against the now warmed granite, barely feeling the slight pain from her nails but truly dripping as my cunt pulsed in excitement. WHACK WHACK WHACK. As her hand rubbed my ass, I could only assume that it was a pleasant shade of pink by now, just the way both of us liked it. It was so wonderful to have someone that was the such a perfect sexual foil for me. More hits with the spatula, and I was biting my lip, just waiting for her to fuck me.

I could feel her reaching to her left, and heard her put down the spatula and pick up something else of the counter. Having gone through a virtual list of my kitchen supplies, I wondered what the new implement of pleasurable torture would be. Bracing, myself, I waited. The sensation came not on my ass, as I had expected, but rather on my back. A new feeling, much softer and gentler, up and down my back, in-between my ass cheeks, on the backs on my thighs. Tilting my head questioningly, I racked my brain as to why I would have had a paint brush in my kitchen. By the time she reached my shoulders and was stroking my arms with it, I had figured it out -- it was my basting brush!

She ran the brush all over my body, making my skin tingle from head to toe, and then reached through my legs. The feeling of the soft bristles on my clit, it was, well, just heavenly. If this was what a pastry felt like, I was ready to spend my life as baklava. It hit all the right places, soft enough to feel like a whips of air pleasuring me, but with enough pressure to maybe make me come. Rubbing against it, I felt myself start to get close, especially as soon as she began to flick it against me. But just as I was nearing the edge, SLAP. She hit the inside of my thighs with the wooden and metal part that held the bristles in. SLAP. It didn't really hurt; it was just surprising, and more importantly, it took me away from the orgasm I was about to have. I let out a sigh of frustration, and could hear her chuckling behind me. SLAP. SLAP. She would brush the inside of my thigh, and then quickly slap it, the two sensations juxtaposed against one another. My nerves were on edge, and all I could think about was getting over that precipice into the ecstasy or orgasm.

She soon tired of the basting brush, and I heard her lie in on the counter, presumably next to the spatula... and I thought I was done with all my dishes for the day. Oh well, I guess it is way more than worth it. I started getting lost in my spring cleaning thoughts again, until her voice cut through me again. "Kiss it." I looked down to what was in front of my face. A wooden spoon. Not one of those small spoons that you might use to toss a salad (the kind with lettuce, of course). Not even the medium sized one, the one my extremely Jewish mother used to use when making Mamaliga for dinner. No, she had found the giant one, with the ornately carved handle. I had never figured out a use for this monstrously huge wooden spoon, but apparently she had. Hesitatingly, I kissed it.

THWACK. Oh. Wow. That was hard, harder than anything we'd used before, but it still sent pulses of pleasure to my clit, so I closed my eyes and prepared myself. THWACK. Her hand rubbed both of my ass cheeks, as she leaned forward to gently ask me if I thought I could take it. I nodded, always wanting to try new things and push limits.

"Pick a number between one and twenty." I knew she was asking me how many more I wanted...I was torn. I wanted more, because I felt so close to her when being spanked, and it turned me on so much. On the other hand, damn it, I was ready to come, and plus, I didn't want so many bruises on my ass that I couldn't sit comfortably tomorrow. What to do, what to do?

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"Fifteen, please." That was a nice number, three quarters of the way to the maximum, enough to keep the pleasure and bonding, but not too many to intrude upon my impending orgasm. THWACK. A gasp escaped out of my lips -- she was really giving it a good go. THWACK. Again, she rubbed my ass, making some of the sting and the hurt go away. THWACK. THWACK. THWACK. THWACK. Four in a row, alternating sides. My butt was seriously beginning to burn, but having a number to concentrate on made it bearable. Only nine more. Nine more, hah, I could take that. THWACK. Oh, nine more like that, I didn't know about that. I shifted my hands slightly, re-bracing myself against the counter. THWACK. THWACK. THWACK. THWACK. THWACK. THWACK.

She had gotten into a rhythm, alternating sides as she expertly smacked the heavy wooden spoon against me. Putting it down on the counter, she used both hands to rub my ass, pulling my cheeks apart and pushing them together. Sticking one hand between my legs, her fingers entered me against, fucking me as I ground my cunt into them. I was so turned on and all I wanted was for her to keep fucking me. I was so close, gyrating my hips on the counter, trying to stimulate my clit as she fucked me when she suddenly pulled out. I had totally forgotten about the last two. Fuck.

Breathing in deeply, I prepared. In and out, my breaths filled my lungs, my breasts rising and falling along with them. THAWCK. Hard, on the right side, my ass burning. I gasped for air, having expelled all of it out of my lungs upon impact. Giving me a moment to catch my breath, she lightly ran her hands and fingernails across my back. As soon as she sensed I was ready again, THWACK. I cried out, because it hurt, but also because of all the built up sexual tension that was inside of me, desperate for release. She dropped the spoon to the floor, and reached her arms around me, drawing me into a big hug.

"Baby, you took that so well, I'm very proud of you." Her hands had meandered to my breasts and were twisting my nipples. That was all I needed to put me back on the edge of climax, wanting more, needing more, hungry for just a little bit more to force me into my orgasm. A little roughly, she turned me around, spreading my legs again as she dropped to her knees, right there on the titled kitchen floor, still in her black undershirt and dress slacks.

Expertly, her fingers stroked me, opening my folds to find my ravenous cunt. Pushing in two fingers, I groaned, wanting more, not daring to ask. After a few thrusts, she pulled out, and I could feel her lining up three fingers at the entrance. I took a deep breath, and she slid them slowly into me, completely filling me. Almost painstakingly slow, she pressed them inside, curving them slightly. As she began to speed up, I bucked against her, wanting nothing else than for her to continue. She stopped. I almost cried out...until I felt her mouth against my clit, her tongue working magically on it, slowly licking long licks up it, making me reach down and grab her head, not that she was planning on going anywhere. My fingers wove into her hair, pulling her close to me, while her fingers started their ponderous assault inside of me once again, and my cunt clenched around her as my hips continued to thrust into her.

Never stopping, she fucked me, licking and sucking, until I felt myself reach the edge, the precipice, and one moment later, my orgasm crashed over me, as I rode her fingers and her face, groaning and gasping, and glistening with sweat. She fucked me through the whole thing, until I couldn't take it anymore, pushing her hand away. With a few more thrusts, for good measure, she stopped, fingers buried inside me, waiting for me to catch my breath before she pulled out.

Standing up, she took me in her arms, hugging me just as she had before this whole experience had began. I was a bit weak in the knees, but I managed a chuckle, and muttered something about it being her turn to do the dishes before I nestled my head into the crook between her neck and shoulder.

I suppose we'll become a bit more popular in the neighborhood, should we continue to provide more shows like that. And to think, I never thought of kitchen work as particularly sexy!