Curiosity Spanked The Cat

[paddled_husband]

It’s funny how you notice the most incongruous things when your mind is in a crisis. Take Jane. Thirty eight years old, she’s bent over a desk with her bare bottom stuck out lewdly behind her, awaiting a spanking, no, not a spanking, a paddling, and all she can think is this desk badly needs a varnishing. She would have laughed out loud at how ludicrous that thought was at a moment like this, except she didn’t think it would go down well with the stern faced man standing behind her, about to administer said paddling. You don’t upset the person who’s about to beat you if you know what’s good for you. How had she gotten into this ridiculous situation anyway? Ahh, yes. A stupid drunken conversation she’d had with the man who was about to beat her butt.



His name was Fred. They’d been friends for years. They had even dated briefly, in the early days of their friendship. But it hadn’t worked out. They were just better suited as friends. They were good drinking buddies though, and often got drunk together. Last night had been different. Their conversation had gone to new territory. Somehow he’d steered the two of them to talking about domestic discipline. He’d freely admitted he used to beat his wife. And he’d even go so far as to claim she used to enjoy it. This had stirred memories half forgotten, of fantasies she’d enjoyed in her teenage years. Of being dominated, of laying over a strong man’s lap and being soundly spanked. A real punishment. Then it had all come pouring out, like a confession. She had never told a living soul any of this, until now.



Nothing more had happened that night. They’d been too drunk to do anything, anyway. She’d simply taken a cab home and fallen into bed. The next morning when she’d recalled the conversation she’d cringed at the thought of all she had told him. She’d resolved not to bring the subject up again. Maybe he was so drunk he wouldn’t remember anyway. But he’d called her in the afternoon and asked her to come over on the pretext that he had something he needed to discuss with her. So she’d agreed to go to his house for dinner.



The meal was normal enough. He was his usual chatty self. Then they left the dishes on the table and headed to the living room. He offered her a drink of brandy and coke, her favorite. He sat opposite her. “I can help you, you know.”



“Excuse me?”



“What you told me last night. About your spanking fantasy. You’ve never received a spanking, have you? Even as a child?”



Jane gulped down the rest of her brandy before replying. “No, no I haven’t.”



“But you want to.”



She stood up as if preparing to leave. “I don’t think this conversation is a good idea.”



“If you don’t get to experience a spanking now, when will it ever happen? I’m offering you a strict thrashing. Here and now. No strings. No sex. Just to satisfy your curiosity. What do you say?”



“I say how many of those things have you had already?”



“I’m not drunk. Just think about it, okay? It won’t change anything between us. I promise.”

Ordinarily Jane would have been offended. But talking about it last night had rekindled those old desires. She’d longed for the sting of a hot bottom for a long time, and here was this man offering it to her on a plate with no strings. Could she go through with it? “If I did agree, when would it happen?”



He stood up. “There’s no time like the present.”



Jane stepped back. “Not now. I’m not ready.”



He smiled at her. “If you delay it you’ll only find excuses to back out. Just give in now while you have a mind to do it.”



Jane nodded once, unable to trust herself to speak,



“Stay here.” Tom left the room, returning a moment later with his hands behind his back. Jane looked at him with suspicious eyes. He held out a long heavy looking wooden paddle. “This hasn’t seen use in too long.”



Jane’s eyes widened. The thing looked as big as a fucking cricket bat. She squirmed in her seat as if she could already feel the bite of the paddle on her bottom. “You must be joking!”



“Hey, come on. It’ll be all right. Just trust me.”



A deep resolve settled in her to see this through to the bitter end. And her end would be very bitter after feeling the sting of that thing, she thought wryly.



He stared at her, an expectant gleam in his eyes. “Well?”



“Well what?”



“I can’t exactly beat your bottom while you’re sitting on it, can I?”



So here it was, the moment of truth. Could she really go through with this? She stared up at him for a moment, then slowly stood on decidedly shaky legs. “You really want to do this?”



He stared into her eyes. “You really want me to do this. Or you’d already be heading out the door. Give in to your desires. Just let it happen.”



Something in his tone commanded her attention. He sounded more dominant and all thoughts of backing down drained out of her. She simply stood, hands by her sides, awaiting his next instruction.



He must have read her submissiveness in her eyes, for he simply nodded and smiled slightly. “That’s better.” He took hold of her hand and led her into another room at the back of the house. The room was sparsely furnished. A heavy mahogany desk dominated the room. There was a large mirror at the other end of the desk. “Okay, this is where I used to punish Marion. She used to bend over that desk, just like you’re going to do. Now stand here in the middle of the room.”



She obeyed and he walked all around her, staring openly at her body in a way that made her feel like a piece of meat on display in a butchers shop window. She flushed a little but stood still and said nothing.

“This is no good. Your skirt will have to go.”



Her heart raced at the thought of exposing herself to him. She hadn’t even considered that, just assuming he would spank her over the skirt. After all, the fabric was very thin and would hardly offer much protection. “You didn’t say you would expose me.”



“And I didn’t say I wouldn’t. That’s not how this works. A spanking is only truly effective on a bare bottom.”



“BARE? You mean I wouldn’t even be allowed to keep my panties on?”



“Bare is what I said and bare is what I mean. Your panties can come down to mid thigh. I don’t intend to expose you any more than I need to. I promised this won’t be sexual and I will keep my word. Now, I’m going to give you one last chance to think about whether you want to go through with this. The paddling will be hard but not overly severe. I will keep in mind this is your first time. But I need to see the target area so I can see how the paddling is progressing.”



Jane’s mind whirled at the prospect of her first paddling. Somehow the idea of being bared seemed worse than the prospect of the pain to come. One part of her brain idly wondered if she would still feel that way once the paddling started. She found herself nodding her assent. “Where do you want me?”



Just bend over the desk and stick your bottom out. I’ll take care of the rest.”



Her hands reached to the hem of her skirt. But he stopped her with his own hand. “I prefer to do the baring myself. Just bend over like I told you.”



Feeling very vulnerable, Jane folded her body over the desk. Despite her anxiety she couldn’t help feel a tingle between her thighs. Was she getting turned on by this? She stared into the mirror, watching his face as he stepped behind her and reached out to take hold of the hem of her skirt. He slowly pulled the fabric up over her hips. Now her underwear was on full display.



Oh, fuck! She’d forgotten what she was wearing. Laundry day was long overdue and she had on her cute little Minnie Mouse panties. Her face flamed crimson with embarrassment. Somehow this was more humiliating than the impending exposure.



“Cute,” was his only comment. Then his hands were at the waistband of her panties and they were sliding down to mid thigh. Her bottom was completely bare. It took a moment for Jane to process that. This man who had never seen her naked was now looking at her totally bare ass. She closed her eyes, resting her head on the desk, not wanting to see his face as he took in her exposed charms.



“Very nice,” he commented. That’ll look even more fetching when it’s nice and red.”



She cringed inside. “Can you please not talk about my bare butt and just get on with it?”



“Oh, in a hurry are we? Well, I won’t keep you waiting then.”



Jane jumped when his hand suddenly smacked her left cheek hard enough to flatten it. “OW!” She squirmed even more as her right cheek got the same treatment.



“Are you in such a hurry now,” he chuckled.



“Not really,” she mumbled, tensing as she anticipated the next spank. Then it began; a long systematic spanking that covered every inch of her bottom and included her upper thighs, making her squeal and kick. It wasn’t long before she was sniffling as the pain built in her tender nether cheeks.



“Okay, that’s you nicely warmed up. Now for the main event.”



Jane peeked up to see his reflection give the paddle a few practice swings. She closed her eyes again quickly. She held her position, tensed waiting for the first stroke. How much more would this hurt? She received her answer all too soon. Her first warning was a stirring of the air over her waiting bottom then a shocking impact that jolted her body forward. Then the pain blasted in. It felt as if he had stuck a molten hot bar on her butt. She drew in a sharp breath, too shocked to even yell. She waggled her hips in a very lewd manner, as if she could somehow shake the pain off.



“That’s stroke one,” he told her. It’s customary for the recipient to count each stroke and thank her punisher.”



“You expect me to thank you for hurting me?” She stared at him, an incredulous look on her face.



“It’s traditional,” he assured her. “And who am I to go against tradition?”



“How many am I going to get?”



“As it’s your first time I’ll go easy on you. Ten.”



“Ten?” Her face showed her shock. “You expect me to take ten strokes like that?”



“Paddlings can often be much longer. Twenty or even thirty strokes aren’t uncommon. Trust me, you’re getting off lightly at ten. Count please.”



Jane glared back at him for a moment. “One,” she finally muttered.



“Sorry, what was that? I didn’t quite catch it.”



“One,” she replied, a little louder.



“Wasn’t there something else you wanted to say?”



For a moment she looked at him in confusion, then she remembered. “Thank you.”



He nodded. “That’s better.” He raised the paddle again.



Jane closed her eyes. She couldn’t bear to watch that awful piece of wood swing down at her. If anything the second crack of hard wood meeting soft flesh sounded louder. It certainly hurt more. Jane squealed and leaped up, clamping her hands to her tortured butt. “Oh! Oh! Oh!” she gasped as she rubbed her scorched flesh.



“I didn’t say you could get out of position.”



Jane glared back at him. “That hurt.”



He nodded, unsympathetically. “Yes, that is the general idea of a paddling. It’s customary to award penalty strokes for getting out of position. But as this is your first time and you didn’t know, I’ll let you off this one time. As long as you get back in position right now.” The look on his face told Jane he meant it. She had never seen this side to him before.



Jane bent back over the desk, pushing her rear out once more for the tender kiss of the paddle. She didn’t have to wait long. This time the wooden implement struck right at the tender point where bottom met thigh, the sit spot. She let out a bitter howl, stamping her feet as she struggled to cope with the pain. But somehow, through sheer willpower, she held her position, determined not to give him any excuse to add extra stripes. “Th-three, thank you,” she stammered out.



“Well done,” he murmured. I didn’t think you’d be able to hold your position after that one.



Somehow his words of praise gave her strength to get through the rest of her paddling. The fourth stroke brought tears to her eyes and the fifth stroke made them fall, but she held her position and remembered to count each stroke.



He paused for a moment and ran his hand lightly over her scorched cheeks, making her flinch at his touch. “Half way there, Jane. You’re doing very well.”



Poor Jane sobbed and yelped, squirming each time the paddled cracked home, fueling the fire burning in her poor bottom. Tears ran down her face. But somehow she hung in there, determined not to back down. Finally she was ready to accept the last stroke. It landed on her sensitive sit spot again, harder and far more painful than any of the other strokes had been. She screamed out her anguish, then lay there sobbing brokenly. It didn’t even register in her mind that it was all over until she heard him place the paddle down. Then he took her in his arms and held her as she cried into his shoulder. Somehow she had taken it. It had been worse than she’d expected. Much more painful. But she had indicated it was what she wanted and he had not disappointed her. Despite the pain she felt a fierce pride in herself that she had gotten through it, only getting out of position that one time.



He led her back to the living room. She had to shuffle because he hadn’t let her pull her panties back up and in her new submissive state it didn’t even cross her mind to ask him about it. He sat on a chair and pulled her to sit on his lap. She snuggled into him, needing to be comforted. “I was only curious, you know?”



He looked at her, not comprehending.



“About getting spanked, I mean. I was only curious about what it would feel like.”



“Well, you know what they say…”



“What?”



“Curiosity spanked the cat.”



She giggled. As the sharp pain dulled to an ache, that tingle between her legs came back, stronger than before. His hand cupping her bottom cheeks didn’t help. She rested her head against his, then she whispered into his ear; “about that non-sexual rule…”

[nicolenightowl]

I like this story - it may be the beginning of something very special for the two of them.