Across my Knee: The Delights of Spanking. Various
bottom still sore behind her.
She listened as the sounds from Ali grew urgent and distressed, almost angry, and how they journeyed to fearful, to weepy, and then to just little noises of pain.
She had not realised how vocal it was, how much a girl gives away when she is spanked.
It was a novel all of its own, she thought. This is the sound of submission. She knew she was not destined to create that sound in another.
It was as though Ben had heard her because at that moment he took the totally pliant and repentant Ali to the dining table and bent her gently over it. She started to panic and he put a warm hand on the small of her back while he instructed Marie to come and put herself next to Ali.
She obeyed, bending over the table one space to Ali’s right.
Ben left the room and the girls did not look at each other, but Marie whispered, ‘Are you OK?’ to Ali, who replied very softly, ‘Yes.’
Neither girl dared look back when Ben returned but when they heard the swishing sound they knew what he brought with him.
‘Ali.’ She jumped when he said her name and clenched her bum. ‘I think it only fair that Marie get the first set of these, don’t you agree?’
He did not wait for a response and Marie made a little ‘o’ of horror with her mouth before the first burning stripe bit. She did her best to be brave and not show Ali how much it hurt, but by number four she was begging him to stop. At six he did.
‘Your turn, Ali,’ he declared.
Ali had no idea what to expect, but Marie’s sobs told her that she should be afraid. He gave her three. At each stripe Ali shrieked and pushed her neat, tanned frame harder into the table, as if to slide through the wood and escape.
Ben went on, six more for Marie and three more for Ali, while the girls marked under his tutelage, while they altered. They pushed together on the table, holding hands, hot twisting fingers intertwined for support, and Ben knew he had done his job.
‘What is it you really wanted, girls? What is it you wanted to know? To explore?’ He knew the answer, of course. He knew Marie better than anyone, and Ali had told him all he needed in the kitchen.
The women struggled with themselves, then they looked into the other’s tear-muddled eyes and, still bent over the table, their red, marked bottoms facing him, they kissed.
‘I want to take you to bed,’ Marie whispered. It was a question, a plea, a hope, to Ali, to Ben, and to herself. ‘I want you to come too.’
Ben waited and looked at Ali, who held Marie’s hand and nodded, not quite looking up at him, but he could see the smile on her lips.
* * *
Ben lay on his side and watched at first.
The girls covered each other, their hands flew across the other’s skin like birds in mid-flight, tracing the currents and following a pattern of longing that only the other could know. They barely stopped kissing for breath, hands finding every tiny part, all questions answered. They knew how it felt to be touched. They knew where to travel so lightly that it was hardly a whisper, and where to insist deeper and more.
Marie’s head lowered, kissing Ali’s breasts and stomach and farther, seeking the place that would make her gasp and forget herself. She gave Ben a knowing look as she took Ali over the brink, and Ben held Ali safe as she bucked and came; a moment then of still, of calm and quiet, Ali still breathing hard, and Marie still eager and insistent.
That was when the movement changed; stroking, pushing hair away from eyes, fingertips tracing lips, and seeking the third. His hard body came between the two, his penis stiff and welcome.
Inquisitive lips and nuzzling mouths journeyed over one another and over him, wrapped their tongues around him, girls finding each other and him, in turn, and all at once.
Ben placed Marie above Ali, on her knees, a familiar posture. He entered her from behind, watching the cane marks on her bum as he held it, putting himself gently in and up to the hilt, pulling her to him in a gentle rhythm. Ali lay underneath, watching in awe.
She touched Marie persistently, delicately. Her light fingers fluttered in Marie’s folds as she leaned up to take one nipple in her mouth and then the other. Ben was above them both, slow and steady, building the pace until Marie started to break.
She cried out as she came and it was too much; she could not cope with the intensity, but Ben held tightly to her hips and completed into her.
Afterwards, lying down, a pile of warm, languid lovers, two of them said, ‘Happy birthday, Ben.’
‘Well, yes, it really is. And you,’ he said, and kissed Marie lightly on the nose, ‘are a rubbish Top. I think Ali needs someone a bit more forceful.’
He smiled as he fell asleep surrounded by lovers.
An Occasion
Sommer Marsden
‘I was looking for you!’ I said.
My husband Chuck cocked an eyebrow at me and smiled. ‘Figured I’d headed for the hills, Alice? Run off into the wild blue yonder?’
‘The mall is not that bad,’ I said, dropping to a stone bench by the fountain. Or, as Chuck called it, the give-us-free-money water exhibit. The bottom was studded with silver and copper. I watched a row of toddlers guided by their harried mother walk along the edges to spy the coins.
‘The mall is the ninth circle of hell,’ he said, dropping down next to me. ‘But we might as well do a check to make sure we got everything on the list so we don’t have to come back. Ever.’
I snorted, rolling my eyes. ‘You first.’
Chuck rifled in the bag and then pulled it wide. ‘Three pairs of dress socks, a package of running socks, new stone-coloured chinos, a button-down blue shirt to replace the one you stole from me.’
‘Borrowed,’ I interjected.
‘Stole. Oh, and a new shaving kit for that trip in January.’
‘Good job!’ I said it in my best kindergarten-teacher voice and he nudged me with his leg. ‘My turn.’
Various bags sat stacked around my feet. ‘New pyjamas for the pair you shrank.’
‘Machine malfunction.’
‘You shrank them.’
Chuck shook his head and peered into my next bag.
‘New panties, new hose, a black sweater for next week when the board of education does its tour.’
‘Are you in mourning?’
‘No, I feel stronger in black,’ I said.
‘Makes sense. And …’
‘And what?’
‘And you bought something you weren’t supposed to. I can see it on your face,’ he said.
I fingered the small sterling silver lightning bolt at my throat. ‘It was on my birthday list. But I couldn’t wait,’ I said and showed him.
Chuck’s nice kissable mouth narrowed down to a harsh line and he said, ‘I guess I can call and tell them to put the one they’re holding for me back on the shelf.’
Damn.
* * *
‘I’m sorry. I’m sorry, I didn’t know.’ I had to run to keep up with him, almost.
Chuck walked at his normal fast clip but with a bit of anger behind it, and it was damn near impossible to keep up with him.
‘You wrote it on your list, Alice. I’ve asked you so many times to not –’
‘I know!