Rick And Linda The Beginning

Linda and I entered the back door of my dorm and climbed the back stairs. We'd been drinking at the local student bar. Not much, but Linda was so small, just 4 feet 11 inches, that even a single drink loosened her inhibitions. That was why we were going to my room this night. It would be another 30 minutes of frustrating necking for me.

We'd been out perhaps 10 times, but we were already in a rut and our sexual progress had not advanced past the point it reached on our third date. With the lights off (as she insisted), I would get her pants and underwear down to her upper thighs (no lower!) and her top and bra pulled up to her armpits. She would lie next to me in this state, with pretty much everything of interest exposed in the dim hallway light streaming in through the transom.

I could touch and kiss anything she had. But I was getting nothing in return. All she did was wrap her arms around me as I brought her to orgasm with my kisses and fingers. But if I so much as unbuckled my pants, she sat up and began to dress.

We sat on my bed, kicked off shoes and socks, and began. Within a few minutes we were in our familiar positions. Me still fully dressed lying on my side next to her, one arm under her neck, the other hand stroking her breasts, belly, and pubic mound.

"Linda," I said, "let's do something different tonight. Let's get naked and give each other hand jobs."

"Naked!" she exclaimed, "I don't think so."

She sat up and her pullover top fell back into place. Since she was showing me everything anyway, I knew it was my nakedness she feared, not her own.

"Alright, then," I replied, "we'll stay dressed just as we are, but lets do something kinky. How about you lay across my lap with your pants down like they are now and I give you a spanking."

She hesitated just a moment before replying and when I looked back on the evening later, I decided that the hesitation was significant.

"I wouldn't enjoy that," she said. "I'm not into that kind of thing."

"Have you ever tried it?"

"I just know I wouldn't like it. A spanking could never turn me on. Let's just neck like we always do. It's always so sweet and you are so gentle."

Something about that word "gentle" pushed me over the edge. I sat up beside her, threw one arm under her knees and the other around her back, picked up her up in my arms (all 95 lbs of her), and plopped her bare-assed on my lap. She gave a little gasp of surprise and both of her hands went to her crotch, hiding it from view. All of sudden she was Miss Modest. With one arm still behind her upper back, I leaned to that side, effectively laying her down on her back again, except now her naked hips were elevated on my lap. I quickly sat up again and turned her body toward me and then down again so she was lying face down with her naked ass across my lap.

She guessed what I was up to now, and she began to struggle, pushing herself up with her arms and trying to turn face up again. I leaned forward and rested the weight of my upper body on her hips. This pinned her long enough for me to pull one leg out from under her and lay it across the back of her thighs. I hooked the ankle of that foot behind my other shin. She was effectively pinned face down over my lap. She squirmed and grunted and pushed and pulled with her arms, but she could not free herself or turn over. Her struggles only caused her jeans and panties to work their way a little farther down her thighs.

Knowing she was overpowered, she stopped struggling and tried persuasion.

"Really, Rick, This is wrong. Please let me up. I know what you are thinking and I won't enjoy it."

"Well, we're going to find out if that's true," I said and I slapped my palm down on her bottom.

She jumped and gave a little "Ow!" and shot both her hands back, each covering one of her naked globes. I grabbed her tiny wrists in my two hands, brought them together and wrapped one hand around them.

Then I slapped her bottom three times fast, saying as I did so "You!" "Will!" "Cooperate!"

"Ow! Oh! Awh!" she exclaimed as she resumed the struggle, but it was useless and she gave up in exhaustion after 10 or 15 seconds.

"Rick. This has gone on far enough. Let me go or I'll scream!" she threatened.

"Go ahead," I called her bluff, "But in the unlikely event that the people of this dorm take that seriously and in the even more unlikely event that they go to the trouble of breaking down my door, what do you think they are going see? They will find me fully clothed and they will find you bare-assed over my lap. This isn't going to look like rape or major felony to them. They'll interpret it as a lover's quarrel being settled the way men have settled such quarrels for centuries. I probably would have to let you up, but I'd make sure they got an eyeful first and the odds are good that some of them will have cell phones with built-in cameras."

I let the implications of this last point sink in.

Defeated, she sighed. "All right, you bastard, get it over with, but I'll never speak to you again and I'll make sure no other girl in this school ever goes out with you."

"That's not much of a threat considering you won't give me even a hand job anyway. And as for the other girls in this school, I'm sure they will all gasp in horror when you tell them I forced a spanking on you, but a pretty good percentage of them will also start trying to meet me and find ways of being 'naughty' when they are alone with me. You catch my drift?"

She was only 19 and not very experienced, but she was not ignorant and she knew what I said was true. Telling people I was a forceful spanker would probably improve my love life.

Still holding her wrists with one hand, I began to drag down her jeans and panties with the other. This brought on renewed squirming, but she could not save them and I stuffed both under the mattress. I heard her give a little groan of embarrassment.

"I took those off, because I'm going to let go of your wrists and un-pin your legs. I know you won't run away when you are naked below the waist and if you struggle I'll just over power you again. Eventually, you will tire and agree to cooperate without my having to hold you in place. What's it going to be, cooperation or pointless struggle?"

"Alright," she said sullenly, "I'll cooperate, anything to get your stupid perversion over with."

I cautiously lifted the leg that pinned her and slipped it back under her. With equal caution, I let go of her wrists. She was free now, but she made no move to escape. This was only sensible. Since she was lying down and I was sitting upright, there was no way she could beat me to the door before I caught her. I figured that she was also thinking that a spanking from me, a man who had already seen all her privates anyway, would be less embarrassing than being seen bare-assed by whatever white knight she might find out there in the hallway.

There was no turning back now and I figured if I was going to go through with this I might as well have it the exactly the way I wanted it.

"Arch your back, Linda."

"What?"

I stroked my hand along the small of her back and said "Make this part of your spine curve downwards toward the mattress. Make it concave."

She started to obey but when she realized that this made her bottom stick up more, she reversed the move.

"Why should I do this?" she demanded.

"Because I said so," was my response, but then I added "and if you don't I'll spank you twice as long as I'd planned."

Sighing loudly, as if to convey her disgust of me, she arched her back again.

"Now, push your toes into the footboard of the bed. Pretend that you are standing on the footboard but standing on your tip toes."

Puzzled, she did as I instructed. The effect was to arch her lower back even more, causing her bottom to roll even higher. Now the curve of her derriere that was outermost, when she was standing up, had become a kind of an upper peak; and the curve of her butt that was lowest, when she was standing, had become the top peak: it was pointed up at the ceiling. The very lowest fringes of her furry vulva had now rolled up to peep between the back of her tightly clenched thighs.

"Now this," I told her, "is what we will call the 'offering position', because you are offering your bottom up for a spanking. If you get out of this position at any time, I will say, 'Linda, offer yourself' or 'Assume the offering position.' You must immediately reassume this position."

She gritted her teeth in anger and for a moment I thought she was going to renew the battle, but with a sound that was one part angry grunt, one part sigh, and one part cry, she acquiesced.

I paused to savor the sight of her hills while they were still milky white: they weren't going to be much longer.

I couldn't resist tracing, lightly with the palm of my hand, the curve of her back, rear, and thighs. She recoiled from my touch but I didn't mind: I was sure that before the next hour was over my touch on her bottom would send sparks of delight through her.

I began.

The first slap was light, barely a tap. She made a small sound of surprise and relief. She had been expecting much worse. She was going to get much worse, too; but not for a while. First, I'd let her body and the primitive, animalistic, parts of her brain react to her situation. I was sure that being held by a man; being protected, but controlled; being

commanded

by a man (especially in the bedroom) were things that virtually all women want, unconsciously at least (and consciously often enough). No amount of indoctrination in political correctness can change this because women can't help it. Their brains are hardwired to seek out and mate with males that have confidence, strength, and intelligence.

An anthropologist would say that this is because such men make better protectors of children and pregnant females; but the origins of the phenomenon were of little interest to me. What mattered was that even now, her brain was unconsciously thinking "This man has complete control of me. He has forced me to hold myself in a humiliating posture while he touches any part of me he wants in any way that he wants. What further proof do I need that he is powerful and clever and that he can protect me from all dangers?"

And with that thought, her brain would start sending signals to her clitoris, filling it with blood, and to her vagina, telling it to begin secretion. She was becoming aroused. Regardless of what her conscious mind was thinking, she was becoming aroused. By the time the really hard spanks started, she would be aroused enough that they would not provoke the degree of rebellion that they would undoubtedly bring on if I spanked hard right away.

I continued and I watched her face as I rapidly peppered her behind with soft taps, not even using my palm, just four fingers. Her surprise at the lack of pain was so great she actually smiled for a brief moment and I knew what she was thinking:

Is this all he wanted? Is this what he meant by a spanking? This doesn't hurt at all. Fine then, I'll do what he wants and get this over with.

Ah,

I thought to myself,

that little smile tells me so much. She is ready for the next stage.

I stopped and held my hand on her bum, pressing down firmly, to remind her of my strength.

Out loud I said, "This is what's going to happen: If you cooperate, you will leave here after just 100 more spanks and after giving me nine kisses. If you do not cooperate, you will be here much longer and endure much more and give me much more."

I paused while she thought exactly what I wanted her to think:

100 of these little pitty pats and nine kisses? That's all?!

"Okay," she said. And to my reply of "Okay, what?" she added "Okay, I'll cooperate."

"Good. Now I will begin by giving you ten spanks. You will count them out loud and thank me for each one." I could see her grimace at the latter instruction.

This might not hurt

, she was thinking,

but it is going to be humiliating as all heck.

I ignored the grimace and continued. "After the 10th spank, you will kneel in front of me and --".

She stiffened when she heard this and I knew she thought I was going to demand oral sex, so I continued "-- I will lean forward and we will kiss open-mouthed for 60 seconds. You will put your arms around my neck while we kiss. There's a clock with a second hand on the wall opposite me and I'll break the kiss when time is up. You will then go back over my lap and the cycle will repeat. After the last set of 10 spanks, you may dress and go. Nothing else will happen. You won't be raped or hurt, and except for the kissing, I won't be putting anything inside your body. Any questions?"

"No," she sighed.

I began with another soft pat to the peak of her right buttock and she did not react.

"Linda! The count! Say 'one'," I scolded sternly.

She sighed again, but added "One."

"And thank me!"

Another sigh of exasperation, and she paused and squirmed. For a moment I thought I'd mistimed things -- gone too fast -- the 'thank you' was just too humiliating, she was going to resume open warfare.

But then, through gritted teeth, she said "Thank you."

Another soft pat. Again she forgot the response. This time I only had to say her name sternly, "Linda!"

"Two, thank you."

And so it went.

Pat. "Three, thank you."

Pat. "Four, thank you."

...

On the seventh, I began using my whole hand, not just the fingers. On the ninth, I increased the force a bit. If she noticed these escalations, she gave no sign of it.

When she said "Ten, thank you," I lifted my hands from her and said "Okay, you know what to do."

Indeed, she did. With her left arm, she pushed herself sideways off the bed, being careful to keep her legs together while hiding her pubis with her right hand. She knelt between my shins. Kneeling before me was another psychological hurdle and I was gratified that she submitted to it so readily. She had clearly decided that she was going to go through with this. Not because she wanted it to happen (not yet), but because she wanted to get it over with.

She was looking down and to the side, silently and humbly. The proud girl who had let out exaggerated sighs of disgust when she said "One" and "Thank you" seemed to have disappeared. That's one of the effects of kneeling. It is impossible to be psychologically dominant or even equal with someone to whom you are kneeling. Being sarcastic or verbally resistant is hopeless, so a kneeling person doesn't even try.

I put one hand gently on the side of her face and with the other hand I turned her face to me and tipped it up. I leaned forward and began to kiss her on the lips. She did not resist but did not open her lips either. I paused and pulled away an inch, with my thumb I gently pushed her lower lip down. She opened and I resumed the kiss. As I held the kiss, I reached out and took her left wrist and draped her arm around my neck. A few seconds later I took her right arm and firmly pulled it away from her mons and wrapped it around my back.

You might be wondering now about the kissing. What's the point? Well, kissing is a gesture of affection or love (not lust, for the most part). But kissing has another psychological effect that is crucial: it is impossible to be angry or hateful to someone you are kissing. If you really can't stand someone, you can resume hating them immediately after a kiss; but during the kiss itself you cannot dislike them. This effect is enhanced if you open your lips or put your arms around the other person. That's why I alternated kissing and spanking. I was weakening her psychological resistance to me as a person, in addition to warming her up sexually.

After 60 seconds, I pulled away and patted my lap: an unmistakable signal. She lay across my lap again, covering her sex with one hand, as she did so, until she was face down.

"Offer yourself, Linda," I reminded her, and she again arched her back and pushed her toes against the footboard.

There was no loud, pointed sigh this time. Sixty seconds of kneeling in front of me had humbled her a bit.

I rubbed my hand gently in a circular movement over her globes for a few seconds. Then I resumed the spanks, a little more forceful this time, but still not enough to cause pain. I had to remind her to count again after the first, but she remembered after that. After the third, I noticed that her voice lost volume and became ever so slightly breathy. After the seventh, she turned her face away from me. She had been facing the wall behind me with her head lying on its side on the sheet. But now she turned her head and rested it on the mattress on her chin, with her forehead and nose tipped up just enough so that she could breath. All I could see was the back of her head.

She was hiding her face, an instinctive human reaction to shame. I surmised that she was becoming consciously aware of the first hints of physical arousal. I knew I would have to be careful from this point. For some women, becoming sexually aroused involuntarily (especially with someone they are angry with) is even more humiliating than striping, kneeling, or presenting oneself in the "offering" position I was making her assume while over my lap. Even if she was resigned to the latter embarrassments, she might prefer resuming non-cooperation rather than let me see that my treatment was heating her up.

I increased force a bit towards the end. Although these blows would probably have caused a slight sting if I had started with this much strength, they were comparatively-speaking only slightly harder than what she'd already endured and she made no protest. After the tenth, she rose without reminder to kneel in front of me. She covered her forest with a hand again.

This gave me an idea.

"I can see you want to keep your privates covered," I said. "I'll agree to that, but I want some things in exchange. First, when you thank me, you will say 'Thank you, Ricky' and before each kiss, you will say 'Kiss me, Ricky.' And when you offer your bottom to me, you will say 'Please spank me, Ricky.' Agreed?"

She quickly nodded in assent. After all, it must have seemed like a good bargain for her. She got to keep some modesty for the small price of saying a few silly words. (I noted mentally the submissiveness of her nodding instead of saying "yes" out loud.) But the deal was going to work well for me, too. Although I'd get only one of her arms around me when we kissed, this was more than made up for by the fact that she would be further abasing herself by requesting her kisses and spankings.

Even better, she would be calling me by a childish version of my nickname repeatedly. This would have a psychological effect similar to the kissing; it would build an environment of intimacy between us. It's not for nothing that your mother used your full name when she was angry with you. ("Jonathan Jones Smith, go to your room this instant!") It's hard to be angry at someone when you are calling them by their nickname.

Although I'm normally called "Rick," I deliberately specified "Ricky" on this occasion. Putting an "ee" sounding ending onto a nickname is what people normally do with a sibling, lover, or someone they are close to. Making her say it would enhance the effect of calling me by my nickname.

So, as I leaned forward for the kiss, I pointed at the arm that wasn't hiding her triangle and she silently put it around my neck. I touched her lower lip and she opened her mouth. We kissed again for 60 seconds. After she draped herself over my lap again, I only needed a quick tap on her thigh to remind her to offer her bottom to me.

After she did, I waited a long time and when she finally looked back over her shoulder at me with a puzzled look, I said "You're supposed to say something when you do that."

"Oh, yeah, I forgot. Um, please sp-spank me, Ricky."