Bad Samantha

Sam and Samantha. Husband and wife. Two of the beautiful people. Literally. He was a regular Adonis and she would have given Helen of Troy a run for her money.

As far as I could see, beauty was all they had in common. Samantha was smart as a whip, had an evil temper and was used to getting her own way. Sam would have had to study to be a moron, was totally easy going and always did as he was told.

I have always assumed that the only reason they got married was because Samantha's libido got away from her and she insisted. (They married young. I think both parents were glad to have them out of their respective houses.)

They pottered along, Sam quite content with the way things were and Samantha not. I didn't think that the marriage would last much longer and the breakup would probably be a good thing for both of them.

Being neighbours, and because I liked Sam even if he wasn't too smart, I included them in the invites to the barbecue I was having. My sister-in-law was acting as my hostess for the evening while my brother and I did the cooking.

A fine time was had by all until Samantha had that one drink too many, and then she got snarky. She was rude and obnoxious to everyone there, not least to poor Sam. She even had the gall to have a go at me. We were all quite happy to see the back of her when she decided that it was time to go, although I sympathised with Sam. He had to go with her.

Just before they left I scribbled out a short note to Samantha and left it in her purse. I was curious to see how she'd react to it.

I found out the next day when she came banging on my door. Checking my watch I saw she was bang on the knocker for the time I had stipulated. I opened the door and stood back to let her in. She didn't need an invitation. She just barged past me, shaking the letter in her hand. I strolled through to the kitchen with Samantha following.

"Just who the fuck do you think you are, writing something like this?" she demanded.

"Is there a problem?" I asked.

She just waved the letter in my face.

"This is the problem," she yelled at me. "You wrote this and don't try to deny it. You even signed it."

"Perhaps you'd better let me read it so that I know what you're talking about," I suggested calmly.

Fuming, she almost threw the letter at me, and I opened it and read it aloud.

"Dear Samantha, Your behaviour at my barbecue this evening was absolutely atrocious. I expect you to come and see me at two tomorrow afternoon when I will expect you to make a formal apology for your misconduct.

Subsequent to your apologising and prior to actually accepting it, I intend to strip you, beat you and then fuck you so hard that your legs will be wobbling when you go back home.

PS. Please shave your pussy before you come over as I prefer a woman to have smooth skin."

I nodded. "Yes, this seems to be the note I wrote for you and," consulting my watch, "I see you're right on time. You may start with saying you're sorry."

"Sorry?" she yelled at me.

"Thank you," I said. "Apology accepted tentatively. As I'm sure you may recall there are still a few conditions to be met."

"Conditions?" she yelped. "Do you seriously think I'm going to agree to any of the things you specified in that note?"

I had given Samantha a comprehensive once over when she came in. She was wearing Yoga pants and a tight top, leaving her midriff bare. The faint outlines of bra and panties could be seen.

I smiled at Samantha, took a step towards her and my hand slid down the front of her yoga pants and under her panties, landing on her mons. Her very smooth mons. To be that smooth she must have shaved shortly before coming over, no matter what she might say.

"You came at two, as directed," I pointed out, while she wriggled and tried to pull my hand out of her pants. "You just said sorry and you've shaved your pussy. We seem to be at a mutual understanding of what you're going to do."

With that I permitted Samantha to jerk my hand out of her pants. At least, as far as the waistband. Then I adjusted my hold, got both hands on her yoga pants, and I stripped them down in one smooth movement, collecting her panties at the same time.

Seeing I was now bent over it seemed a simple matter to just move forward a little while I was straightening up so that Samantha finished up across my shoulder. This let me finish stripping of her pants and panties and I gave her a friendly smack on the bottom before setting her back on her feet. With her panties gone, Samantha didn't really offer any resistance to my peeling off her top and bra.

I stood back and admired her figure.

"You know, Samantha," I told her, "you have such a lovely figure it's almost a shame that I have to spank you. Still, you can console yourself with the thought that it will be good for you. Now why don't you turn around and bend over the table, legs nicely spread and bottom where I can spank it."

The look on Samantha's face said that there was no way she was going to bend over that table and that if I tried to spank her I'd have a fight on my hands. The look I gave her in return showed that I was no longer smiling, and Samantha finally got the message that I was not pleased.

She went a little pale and without saying a word she turned and leant over the kitchen table.

A very nice bottom she had, too, and I could sympathise with her as I gave it a pretty solid spank to start with. It was a crying shame to have to spank that bottom, but these things happen. Samantha obviously thought so, too, as she gave a very loud protesting squeal when my hand connected.

Now that I'd started I proceeded to tan her bottom, letting her know just why I was so cross with her. I spanked and lectured and Samantha squealed and yelped and had her bottom acquire a nice rosy red hue.

I didn't let up for a while as I was told her precisely what I thought of her behaviour the previous night. I may even have tossed in a few other old things I'd resented.

After a while I'd built up a fine rhythm, beating on her bottom as though beating on a bass drum. As it was my intention to punish rather than to harm her, I made sure my spanks weren't too hard. Hard enough to sting, as I'm sure Samantha would have testified to, and the accumulated spanks were undoubtedly making her bottom smart.

When satisfied I finally desisted.

"Stand up," I snapped at her, standing back.

She stood up and turned around and her eyes went wide as she saw that I was stripping off my trousers and had a very nice erection on display. I could see the refusal and rebellion in her eyes. There was no way she was going to submit to a bit of sex at this stage.

"Don't worry," I said. "The ravishing comes later."

I pulled out a chair and sat, indicating she should now bend over my knee for a continuation of her paddling. She was reluctant, but from the way she eyed my erection she probably thought it was better than the alternative.

Now that she was across my knee the rules changed. Samantha squeaked when I cupped her breast, but she didn't protest. I think she was too much aware of my erection pressing against her to protest anything lesser. I lightly slapped the insides of her thighs, making her spread her legs that little bit extra.

Satisfied that Samantha was the way I wanted I resumed her spanking - with a few subtle differences. At the same time I spanked I squeezed her breast and rubbed her nipple. I also took my time removing my hand from her bottom after I spanked, letting it rest there for a moment and then dragging my hand across her bottom before lifting it.

The spanks were a lot slower coming as well, and for some reason my accuracy seemed to have deteriorated. Instead of landing on her cheeks, half the spanks landed on her pussy, which was starting to flush. That also meant that when I dragged my hand it rubbed against her lips, further agitating them.

Samantha was doing a lot of wriggling and squealing by now, but somehow she failed to wriggle off my lap. I was conscious, however, that she was rubbing firmly against my erection, which seemed to be swelling to a size previously unknown.

I continued with the spanking, but more and more my hand seemed to be spending its time rubbing against her pussy, and a time or two, I'm sorry to say, my fingers accidently pushed between her lips, sliding into her cleft and rubbing her there. She was surprisingly damp in there, too, I noticed.

Deciding Samantha had been spanked enough I told her to stand, rising myself as she did so. Samantha was now looking everywhere but toward my cock. She knew what was next on the list and she'd already capitulated, even if she wouldn't admit it.

"Lean back against the table," I told her, "hands resting on it."

Samantha did as told, leaning back, legs spread, waiting for me.

I eased towards her and I could hear her breathing start to deepen as she felt my cock press lightly against her slit.

"OK, Samantha," I told her. "I want you to look and see what is happening. Not just to lean back and feel it."

Samantha blushed but did as I wanted. She looked down at where my cock was pressing against her, her blush deepening. Then she gasped as I gave a little push and the head of my cock pressed harder against her. Her lips seemed to part of their own accord and then close around me, holding me as I penetrated her.

Samantha made a groaning noise as I slid into her, one that increased in volume the deeper I went. Then as I slid in that last little bit Samantha shrieked and her legs came up off the floor and wrapped around my waist, squeezing tight.

With her legs around me, and my cock inside her holding her up, Samantha came up off the table, arms closing around my neck as she settled comfortably onto my cock, clinging to me like a limpet.

I was slightly startled but I wasn't going to protest. Instead, my hand went down to take hold of her bottom while I turned around and headed for the bedroom. I had no objection to taking her in comfort.

Reaching the bedroom I just took a large step towards the bed and dropped onto it, Samantha under me when I hit the mattress. From that point on we went at it hot and heavy. I banged Samantha with everything I had and she took it all and came back for more.

Seriously, I didn't hold back anything. Almost from that first stroke I gave it to her with the full force of my body behind it while she reared up to meet me, her legs wrapped around me to help us come together even faster. We mated, each of us enjoying the other's body, taking and giving pleasure is a savage cycle, driving in only to withdraw before coming in again.

We rolled around on the bed, sometimes me on top, holding Samantha pinned while I drove down into her, other times with me on my back while Samantha straddled me, bouncing up and down on my cock.

At the end, feeling myself ready to explode, I twisted Samantha onto her front, lifted her bottom, and drove savagely into her, while she shrieked and humped her hips, eager to take all of me. I let her have all I had while she screamed and clamped onto my cock, wanting more, more, more.

Physically, I recovered before Samantha. (Not sexually. I estimated another week before I'd be able to perform sexually again, but it had been worth it.) I had a quick shower and was dressed before Samantha was in a fit state to move. I pointed her at the shower and while she was in there I went and fetched her clothes. Then I went and made some coffee while waiting for her.

She'd just come out and sat down for some coffee when the doorbell rang. It was Sam, looking for his missing wife.

"Come on in, Sam," I said. "She's here. We're just having some coffee."

"OK," he said. "Is she still mad? She sounded mad when she said she was coming over to sort you out."

We were in the kitchen by that time and Samantha heard that last bit. She blushed and wouldn't look at me.

"No, Sam," I said. "She's not mad. I explained to her that she'd been a bad girl yesterday and then I smacked her bottom for her."

"She wouldn't have liked that," said Sam, sounding pleased.

"No," I agreed. "She squealed something shocking, but she said sorry and promised to behave better."

Sam smiled and Samantha gave me a killing look.

When they left I returned Samantha's note to her.

"What's this for?" she asked, suspicious.

"Oh, I just thought you'd probably do something you shouldn't this evening. This will save me writing another note telling you so. You can just come on over tomorrow and we'll discuss it again."

It turned out that Samantha's earlier look hadn't been a killing look, just a nasty one. The one she gave me now was a killing one. But I'm willing to make a small wager that she'll come over tomorrow to confess being naughty again.