Hot Crossed Buns: Spanking short stories of erotic, play and discipline. Susan Kohler
begged him, to give her a severe spanking. She didn’t want him to degrade her or order her around. He was not supposed to act mean or abusive in any way, except for the very tangible act of spanking her. He would be kind and considerate, but his manner would also be very firm and commanding. The man of her fantasy was nameless, faceless and almost unimportant, except as the means to her punishment.
She would humbly ask the man for the spanking and when she got it, if it wasn’t harsh enough, she would quietly ask to be spanked again. The second time he would do it more severely, sometimes not just with his hand, but with a paddle or a whip.
Once in a while, in her fantasy, there was a form of role reversal as a follow-up. In these fantasies, after punishing her, the man became a sort of sex slave who would do anything she wanted. He would go to any extent possible to give her pleasure.
The fantasy had never happened to her and she was starting to feel an almost desperate urge for it. The spanking fantasy was all she thought about. It had become an obsession. Was she sick? She didn’t think so; she had heard it was a fairly common fantasy. She read a lot of books like The Pearl and The Story of O.
The problem was, how could she get a spanking? The one thing she had never done, couldn’t have done, was tell her lover what she wanted. She didn’t have a lover; in fact, she had never had a lover she trusted enough to share this particular fantasy with. She had never had someone who really cared about what she wanted, her former lovers had only seemed to care about satisfying their own needs.
She was an attractive young woman; lively and good company so she dated often, of course, but there was no one she could allow herself to share her secret desires with. She kept her desire hidden like a shameful secret. Even though as a part of her fantasy she was supposed to be the one to bring up the subject, Sarah was very timid.
She wanted to ask for the spanking, but she was too shy. What she really wanted was for an unknown tormentor who would actually compel her to ask explicitly for a spanking. Still, she couldn’t get up enough nerve to force herself to bring the subject up with any of her dates.
What if she brought it up and the man thought she was sick? Perverted? Even more troubling, what if he agreed to do it? Would she like it? If she did not like it, would he stop at her word?
One day she found a discarded underground paper. She found most of the articles a little sick and disgusting. The personal ads, however, were eye openers. There were pages and pages of ads from men and women offering to spank someone or to be spanked. Sometimes the ads were just a way to meet like-minded partners, and sometimes the ads were placed by people who spanked for money.
Sarah finally decided to hire someone to give her the fantasy. She felt that someone who advertised in the adult personals would understand her desire, or at least not judge her for having that desire. She also had a deep-seated feeling that if she paid for the spanking her tormentor would really be just a faceless stranger, and she would actually be the one in control. The man she hired would do just what she wanted, in the way she wanted it done.
Sarah was in for the surprise of her life.
She got a newer copy of an underground singles’ newspaper that always carried suggestive ads, and then called the ones that mentioned discipline, or correction, or submission. She talked to several people, both men and women. The women were really helpful; they offered her advice and made her realize how prevalent her secret desires were, but for some reason she wanted to be spanked by a man. Several of the women mentioned a name and gave her a phone number. She didn’t see an ad from this man, but made sure she kept his number. After all, he had references for being safe and following the woman’s lead.
Before calling him, she talked to a few more men from the paper. She tried to describe the scene she wanted, but she felt uncomfortable speaking to most of the men. None of them seemed quite right to her until she gave up and called the person whose name and number she got from several women. A man named Mac.
On the phone, Mac sounded friendly, cheerful and surprisingly normal. He seemed very open. He listened to what she said she wanted, how she wanted him to treat her, and how severe she wanted him to be. He had some suggestions but he listened to her desires and his suggestions were designed to enhance her ideal scene, not to change it.
He seemed perfectly understanding and agreeable to everything she said. She felt he would give her the precise fantasy she wanted, and in just the way she wanted it. She knew because of the references that she would be safe, and he would stop if she wanted him to.
He said he had his garage set up just for spanking scenes. It was not a dungeon, just a really comfortable, soundproof room. He quoted her a reasonable price, and gently suggested a date and time. She made an appointment with him.
It was even better for Sarah to realize that he wanted to be paid for spanking her because he would have no personal stake in the fantasy, except to please her.
According to their agreement, there was to be no actual sex involved, just the spanking and the feeling of helplessness and submission that comes from being at the mercy of a stranger who would punish her without feelings, with no sympathy or compunction, but also without degradation.
Sarah stood on the sidewalk with her legs shaking for a long time before she gathered her courage and walked up the gravel driveway at the address she had gotten from the voice on the phone. In her right hand was a riding crop that she had bought just for tonight, just for this still faceless stranger to use on her butt. It felt like it weighed a ton, and it was just too long to hide. She hoped none of his neighbors saw it. She flushed, thinking to herself of how it had felt to go into a saddle shop and buy it. She had been sure everyone in the shop knew why she was buying the crop, knew she wasn’t ever going to use it on a horse.
She walked to the garage as Mac had instructed her to. Mac had been more than willing to go to Sarah, but he knew instinctively that part of her fantasy was to bring herself to him, to request the spanking. She remembered him telling her that the garage had been converted into a special room, just for one purpose: to accommodate women like herself. Women who wanted to be spanked.
She arrived at his door at exactly 8 pm, the appointed time. He had warned her that there would be a penalty if she was late. As much as she wanted a spanking, she wasn’t sure she wanted a penalty, whatever it would be. She rang the doorbell and waited.
As she stood at the door, she felt like her whole body was tingling with fear and anticipation, especially her backside. Her mouth was dry, and she felt shivers running down her spine. She waited, hardly knowing that what was behind the door would change her whole life. Forever.
When he opened the door, the first thing she noticed was that the man she had hired was gorgeous. If she had ordered her ideal man from a catalog, he would look just like the man standing before her. He had dark wavy hair, bright blue eyes, a magnificent body with a muscular build and a great smile. He was dressed in tan slacks and a blue and white knit sweater that set off his eyes perfectly.
“Hi,” he said, in a relaxed and friendly voice. He had the most friendly, open smile Sarah had ever seen. He also had a hint of humor in his face.
“I’m Mac, you must be Sarah?” At her nervous nod, he said, “Come in. I won’t hurt you,” he paused and flashed her another smile, full of the devil and good humor, “much. Trust me. You’re right on time. I’m disappointed.”
Sarah found her voice. “Why?” she asked, entering the room.
He held the door to the room wide open, and looking inside, she could see that it was warm and cozy, furnished like any ordinary bedroom. It had a large four poster bed and a dresser, both in walnut. The room had a closet, a bathroom and even a small refrigerator. The walls were painted a pale blue, and the bedspread was royal blue. He had told her over the phone that the room was completely soundproofed.
“So you can scream all you want.” She remembered that he had laughed with genuine good humor when he told her that, but Sarah still felt another race of shivers run down her spine.
He shut the door behind her and locked it with a loud click, bringing her back to the present and