Cold Day, Warm Ass (A First Spanking Fantasy)

[overeasy]

It’s a bright, cold Texas winter day and I am wearing too many layers. I’d wanted to look at least mildly sexy when I entered the room, but here it is, freezing again, and I shiver, although I know that’s not just the cold. I hurry along the walkway, wanting to get inside, nervous to be here, but part of me wants to drag my feet, nervous to go inside. I could turn around now and run away...but I have been waiting too long for this and won’t stop now, even if I am dressed in a stupid bulky winter coat, layers of clothes and boots.

I climb the stairs and see that the door is cracked slightly open. You’re expecting me. Mercifully, I am on time, not my usual state, but for this, the first meeting at least, I wouldn’t dare to be late. There will be enough punishment without needing actual REASONS for it, although I’m guessing I would like to try that another day.

My heart is in my throat as I push the door open just a little more and slip inside. I’ve been instructed not to do ANYTHING without being told, so I just stand, right inside the door, shivering at the cold lapping at my back and neck, my eyes adjusting to the darkness of the space. I can’t even see you at first in the dim room (so much for a sexy appearance in a black room) and my nerves are screaming in fear, I can hear the blood racing in my ears, but I stand still and just wait. You let me stand like that for what feels like an eternity, and I calm down just a tiny bit until I hear you speak, and I jump at the broken silence.

“Close the door.” Easy enough, I can do that. First task done.

“Come here.” My eyes have partly adjusted to the room and I can see your shape now. The nervousness takes over again and I feel my chest constrict, but I make the short walk to the space between the two beds without incident.

Again, you leave me standing there, right in front of you, for at least a minute, which feels like forever. I can feel your eyes on my face and I know I am blushing. I look down at your knees, but then remember what’s going to happen over those knees, and I turn my head a little to find a place to look. But you softly tell me, “No, look at me, I want to see those pretty eyes I am going to make cry.” Which almost makes me start crying, I am so nervous, but I manage to look at you and it’s not too hard in the semi-darkness.

You ask, eyes locked on mine, “You are sure this is what you want? We can quit now, you have no obligation to go ahead, but as we discussed, once we start, neither one of us is going to want to stop until it’s finished.”

My mouth is dry, but I manage to reply, “Yes, Sir, I am sure.”

You smile and I weakly smile back. You reach up and push my long bangs back and cup my cheek in your hand and promise me it will all be okay and you are certain I will do a very good job. I know you can feel the heat of my blushing as you ask me to turn on the bedside light. Fear registers in my eyes as I know it is really beginning, and you pull your hand away as I lean over and fumble with the lightswitch.

I stand before you again, and you ask me to take off my coat. I am roasting now with all my emotions swelling and the room is warm, and I am glad to shed the outer layer onto the bed behind me.

Again you just have me stand in front of you, in the light now. The suspense is making my stomach churn and I am so uncomfortable just standing in front of you, but somehow I manage to stay still.

“Take off your boots.”

I look around, as if I’ve forgotten exactly what boots are, and I start to sit on the bed across from you. But you shake your head. “No, I didn’t say sit down. Keep your eyes on me.” which forces me to bend over awkwardly and just feel for the zippers and shift my weight and stand on one leg to slip off one boot, then repeat on the other side for the other. My neck is sharply bent and my breasts hang on display down my shirt right in front of your eyes and I am surprised that I am capable of blushing even deeper.

“Socks, too.”

I manage to remove those as well with the same ridiculous contortions and stand before you now barefoot.

“Turn around.”

I take in a sharp breath and then slowly turn around. “Move a little quicker, please.” and you gently slap my rear which is now right in front of you.

“Yes, Sir, Sorry, Sir.”

“Bend over and put both palms face down on the bed.” And I hurry to obey this time, leaning into my hands and waiting again.

I start to relax a little, and that is when you pull down my pants and panties part-way. I can feel them stretched across what must be the horizon of my backside from where you are sitting, and above them I can feel the air of the room, which suddenly doesn’t seem so warm and cozy anymore. This is probably worse than if you pulled them all the way off, feeling the ache of knowing they WILL come off, but they linger there along with any shred of dignity I might have once possessed, there just where you want them, exposing me yet leaving me feel the fear of more exposure to happen. This time there isn’t much waiting and I feel the sensation of something tickling across my skin, gently teasing, then finding the crack of my ass and probing gently, shallowly between my cheeks, just below my spine, sliding down painstakingly slowly and stopping at the clothes. A small moan escapes me at the humiliation and the sensation of it. My muscles clench involuntarily and you order me to relax unless told otherwise, and you punctuate that order with a stinging stroke from whatever it is you are using, then it is gone.

“Take off the pants and panties.” I stay bent over in that exact position and reach behind myself and pull them down and help them fall to my ankles. “Lift up your leg.” I put my hands back on the bed and lift my leg so you can coax the pants off that leg. You don’t lose contact with my ankle and I feel you run your hand up the back of that leg, lingering on my upper leg, just below my ass, then up, until you are massaging the seat of my butt, and the sensation is almost unbearable, I am throbbing with fear and excitement, I am overwhelmed at the feel of your hands on me for the first time.

“The other leg.” And the process is mirrored, and then you have both hands on both sides of my ass and I am shaking with the sensation of it.

Then you reach both arms under me at the base of my belly and pull me toward you and before I know it, I am turned over your knee.

The first few slaps are gentle and almost playful, then more serious and insistent. At first it is easy, enjoyable even, to take the hits. I feel warmth filling up the area and even into my inner legs and my pussy. Some of the fear is melting away and I moan again, a sound of pleasure, of a cat stretching in the afternoon sun, but you are not impressed. “Enjoying it too much, My Dear? I’ll give you a much better reason to moan.” and I know I’ve made a mistake. You are hitting me hard now, with your hand, and fast, alternating sides, and I let several “OW”s escape my lips. Damn, I hate it in the homemade spanking videos when the girls say, “ow,” it sounds so fake, and here I am “ow’ing” but damn, it hurts…

But then, just as fast as it began, it stops.

I lay there, my face buried in a pillow my hands somehow found, my arms clutching the pillow. I am not ready to face you yet and you rub me soothingly for a minute.

“How did you like your warm-up?” you ask.

I am not sure how to answer so you slap me hard. “Perhaps you need more of a warm-up to give you something to say?”

“No, Sir, thank you, Sir,” I stutter, “Thank you for my warm up, I liked it very much, Sir. It left me feeling warm and stinging.”

“That’s better.” You say, “But I expect you’ll pay more attention to the next part of your spanking so you can articulate more clearly when it’s over. I’d like for you to show some appreciation.”

“Yes, Sir, I promise.” I quickly say.

“Get up and on the table there’s a bag. Bring it here.”

I get up as quickly as I can and walk over to the table, which is by the window. I am aware of your eyes on my red ass. I want to reach behind me, to cover myself, to FEEL my sore bottom, but I don’t dare. I get the bag and walk back, equally embarrassed at the tuft of pubic hair I know is sticking out from beneath my shirt. I concentrate on the bag.

“Put it on the bed.” You motion to the bed in front of you again. I set it down. You take me by the hips and position me in front of you again, my red bottom on display for you.

“Take every item out of the bag and lay it on the bed. As you do, I want you to first say what its common use is. Then I want you to say what a better use would be. I trust you will figure that out.”

I unzip the bag and reach in. I pull out a hairbrush. I immediately see where this game is going and I take a deep, unsteady breath.

“A hairbrush, Sir, which is used to brush hair.” I hesitate, trying to form a sentence you will like.

“A better use?” you queery.

“A better use would be for you to spank me, Sir.” I murmur quietly, finding it difficult to say outloud.

“Again? Perhaps show a little enthusiasm for the new and improved use.”

“Yes, Sir, a much better use would be to spank my bottom, Sir.” I say loudly and clearly this time and I am sure I am blushing again.

“Much better. Go on.”

And I continue pulling out various items, all of which have different everyday uses, but only one clear better use, and I get more and more afraid of what’s to come.

At last the bag is empty and there is a scary array of implements on the bed.

“I am feeling generous today,” you announce. “And I want your first spanking to be everything you had hoped. So I am going to let you choose.”

“Me? Choose?” I say the words as if I’ve never heard them before.
“You don’t sound very grateful…” you start to say but I quickly jump in before you add more.

“Yes, oh, yes, I am very grateful, Sir, for your thoughtfulness and I am very happy I get to choose.” I pick up the wooden spoon, common use for stirring while cooking, better use about to be demonstrated. “Please, Sir, I’d like to feel the wooden spoon.”

“Hand it to me.” and I turn around and give it to you. “Put everything back in the bag and return it to the table.”

I do as you ask, and walk back over to the table. You ask me to turn around and I watch as you prepare pillows on the bed. “Crawl across the bed.” I climb on the bed and crawl as ordered. “Turn around and lay over the pillows so your ass is properly displayed.” I do. The warm-up spanking is already a distant memory as I stick my bottom up in the air, and you tweak my position just a little until I am just where you want me. I am trembling in anticipation.

SMACK! It stings like crazy and I cry out. You are quick with the second, third, fourth...I lose count as my rear becomes a burning fire. I struggle to stay still, I wiggle and shake and when I do, you stop and wait for me to be still again, you remind me over and over to be still, and each time you resume with renewed intensity. I begin to call out, “No, no, no, pleeeease” but you ignore me and I at last desperately reach my hands behind me and try to stop it. You’ve been waiting for this, and you take my wrists firmly in one hand and pin them behind my back and really let me have it. Finally I begin to cry, messy, sloppy, real tears of pain and at the same time, you feel me relax and stop struggling. After a few moments of this, you let go of my wrists and I simply put my hands in front of my face and sob into them. You keep spanking at the same rate, but less hard now, and eventually you stop. The loud sounds of the slapping and begging and crying fade into quiet, muffled tears, and then the room is silent except for hiccups of breath as I recover from my cry.

After a while you have me get up off the bed and stand before you, as I did in the beginning. You once again make me look you in the eyes. You ask me to describe how my spanking made me feel. I falteringly put words to it and you are patient. When I am done, you praise me for taking my first spanking so well and tell me you knew I would be a good girl and I proved you right and you are proud of me for that. “Your spanking is done now.” you tell me. I kneel down before you and put my head on your knee and you stroke my hair and I thank you for being so firm and just and generous with my first spanking. Then I get dressed and head back out into the cold.

Of course, for my ass, it’s turned into a very warm day.

[sgtjoe78]

Nice story!