Her Secret Life, Conclusion

Hey Spanko Friends!

Gotta make this short. Been typing so much, my hands are killing me. I’ve written 10 spanking stories in the past two weeks, plus working on my novels. Whew! And I’m throwing myself a birthday party tonight and I have to run around to Costco and clean the house and all that garbage. Actually, I’m considering skipping the vacuuming because I expect the floor will take a beating. And I don’t think anyone will notice the dirt. Especially since most of the guests are middle-aged. Heee!

I hope you have an awesome week! I’m going to be on vacation next week and not sure if I have Internet access where I’ll be. If I do, I will post, but if I don’t, know I’m suffering by a lake, reading and sipping on fruity drinks. Poor me. I can’t wait! Been looking forward to getting some alone time with the Hubby. We’re going alone this year so we should have a lot of time for sex. We’d better!

Have a great one! I’ll be back with a new story either next week or the week afterwards!

Hugs to you all,
Michelle


Gary sat down, yanked her across his lap and she knew what was coming next.

He pulled up her skirt, pulled down her undies and got her settled over his knee.

“Have you told me the truth?” A leading question.

“Yes.”

He whacked her one; she nearly jumped out of her skin.

“What about that story about when you were camping in the girl scouts and you made out with that boy scout and got in trouble?”

“Truth, well, partial truth. What I didn’t tell you was that I was camping with my family, snuck out of my tent and hunted down the boy scouts.”

Whack! “OW!”

“Okay, that’s funny, but honey, you have lied your head off to me.”

“I mainly omitted the truth or grunted when you asked me questions. I let you draw your own conclusions. I don’t like lying.”

Whack!

“I don’t! I’m not lying about lying!”

Whack! “You see my problem. How am I to believe anything you tell me now?”

“That’s the problem with lying. Erodes trust.”

Suddenly, he let loose with a flurry of swats. Rapid fire spanking. He was hitting hard, too. The man was clearly angry. And she didn’t blame him.

As she lay there, crying, some part of her took a back seat to the event. A man was spanking her. Not because he was mean, because she’d been mean to him. She’d never really thought about her penchant for untruths, she hadn’t realized it, but she’d never been in love before.

But she had no idea what to do to regain his trust. Stop lying, that was easy. But how was she supposed to repair the damage she’d caused? She’d never had to worry about this kind of stuff before. It was so shocking. All this love and trust and commitment stuff.

The searing pain in her rear finally distracted her enough to get her thoughts away from self-reflection and back to this very strong, domineering man spanking her. She used to think spanking was kind of fun. Not anymore. Even though, for some reason, this whole disciplinarian thing Gary had going on was a huge turn on. Despite the pain.

He seemed to beating a rhythm into her ass. Almost a staccato drum performance. She wished she could appreciate it more, but he was killing her butt. She had no idea how she would make it through the dinner that evening.

After her throat was raw from yelling and her ass felt like the skin had been burned off, he stopped.

“You know what will happen if I catch you in another lie?”

“Yes,” she croaked.

“I’m buying a paddle in the Castro before I leave the City. You get me?”

“Got you. Ow.”

“I hope it hurts. Can’t compare to what you did to me.”

“I think you came close.”

He pulled her up and sat her next to him. Which hurt.

He got up and stood in front of her. He reached down, pulled off her stocking and undies and then undid his own pants.

“I’ve got a different kind of punishment for you,” he said with a deadly cool look on his face. A thrill went through her.

He reached down, took her by the hips and threw her back on the bed. He was undressed in two seconds flat with his face buried between her legs. All she could do was scream.

After more orgasms than she could count, he was on his knees and inside her. She cried out in ecstasy at the feel of him.

The man proceeded to bonk the hell out of her. He rammed her straight on for a time, then lifted one of her legs up and came at her from a different angle. The look in his eye as he gazed down at her didn’t waver. It was dark, this energy of his, predatory and dominating. He was both punishing her and pleasuring her. He lifted her off the bed and into the air, doing target practice on her g-spot. Then he flipped her onto her knees and did her from behind. She’d never had more orgasms in her life.

He grabbed her hips and thrust into with a ceaseless motion. He let go with one hand and began spanking her in time with his thrusts. She went over the edge, bellowing her fool head off, coming like she’d never come before. This was insane sex. Mind-blowing.

Right after she’d come, he withdrew, flipped her onto her back, grabbed her wrists, held them over her head and drove into her. A feral intensity in his dark gaze, the man launched her into the most sublime rapture she’d ever experienced. All she wanted to do was to spend her lifetime making love to him. Being his. Doing whatever would please him the most. She felt like she’d just become enslaved to him.

When he finally allowed himself release, he growled like an animal which grew into a near roaring as he exploded inside her. His absolute animal ferocity shot her out into the outer reaches of sexual pleasure. She reached the pinnacle. This man was it. He was her sex god.

And boy was she going to make some money off this one—whoo-hoo, weren’t her readers going to love this!

Afterwards, she lay exhausted, both from the spanking and the sex (not to mention the keynote speech) completely overwhelmed emotionally and physically.

“So is that gonna end up in a book?” he asked.

She burst out laughing. Had he read her mind?

“Probably,” she admitted.

“You little bitch. Damn. An erotica writer. You had to be an erotica writer.”

“Most guys dig erotica.”

“I didn’t say I didn’t like it. It just blows my mind that my sweet little girl is a pot-smoking erotica writer. Who chased boy scouts. I thought I knew you.”

“You do. None of that stuff really matters. It’s not like I’m going to be any different with you. You’ll just know what I’m up to. Oh, and I do work at home, I don’t commute.”

“Turn over.”

“No, honey, you killed my ass.”

“I know,” he said and grinned. “It felt really good to me.”

“Not to me.”

“Good. Okay, okay, a reprieve. But I owe you one more. With a paddle. When you heal up. I’m gonna tie you to a chair, bend you over as far as I can make you, then I’m gonna spank you until you’re black and blue. And that, I hope will be the last time I ever have to punish you for real.”

“For real?”

“Oh, maybe there were a few things I forgot to tell you,” he said with a sly smile on his handsome face. “But now that I know you’re an erotica writer, watch out, little girl. This man’s got some kink in him.”

“Uh, oh.” A thrill went through her.

“I was going to work you into some of my… uh, favorites. But now? I’m just going to let loose on you. You want inspiration for those books? Boy, honey, are you going to get it.”

The look in his eye made her want to come all by itself.

“Oh, dear.”

“Don’t worry, I’m not too kinky, but I love to spank little girls more than anything. I like to tie them up, I like to make them pay.”

She was nearly speechless with desire. “Uh, oh.”

“Now what you’ve experienced from me are punishment spankings, which should be no fun at all.”

“They aren’t.”

“You haven’t felt my fun spankings yet. They’ll toast that little ass of yours, good, but they won’t leave marks, nor are they designed to hurt you. Much.”

“Uh, oh.”

“But I have a whole leather bondage kit with your name on it. A really nice cat o’ nine-tails—“

She gasped. He smiled.

“And a whole collection of nice leather paddles. But those are all for fun. That’s why I’m picking up a nice thick wooden paddle with air holes for your punishment. My hand is killing me. I don’t want to feel pain, I want you to feel pain when you’ve been bad.”

“Oh, dear.”

“Yeah. Oh, dear.” He brought her to him and kissed her roughly. “You got a lot of payin’ to do for your crimes, honey. A lot.” He kissed her again.

When he pulled away, she leapt on top of him and attacked him. She rode him into a fiery orgasm, they both growled loudly when they came together.

As she lay in his arms afterwards, he asked, “What time is your dinner?”

“Huh? Oh, dinner. Man, I have no brains left. You literally porked my brains out.”

He laughed.

“Dinner? Um. Seven. Awards are at eight.”

“You think you’ll win?”

“I hope so. Will you come with me?”

“I don’t have anything to wear.”

“This is not very formal. People will be wearing some…”

“Okay, yeah, I’m going,” he said enthusiastically.

She laughed. “I need a shower.”

“So do I.”

“You come in there and we’ll never get to the dinner.”

“Sure we will.”

After amazing sex in the shower, Heather got ready for the dinner. She put on her make-up and changed into a very sexy red dress. When she walked out into the room she found Gary buried in her book.

“Oh, dear,” she said.

He sent her a very predatory, smoldering look. “Oh, honey,” he said in a low tone. “Are you inspiring. This is going to be fun.” He returned to the book.

“Uh, oh. I think I’ve created a monster. I thought you were a goody two shoes.”

He rested his fiery gaze on her. “Think again.”

She got wet.


Later, at dinner, they were seated at a table of eight, two friends and a few strangers.

Gary appeared to be having a good time. He was relaxed, he engaged in the conversations and was sweet to her. But there was a look in his eye that would appear from time to time. It was an evil kind of a look.

The awards ceremony began. As the lights dimmed in the audience, Heather felt Gary’s hand on her thigh. She looked over at him, he watched the stage. She turned to the stage; he slipped his hand under her skirt. Since she couldn’t protest or it would attract attention, she was helpless. He slid his finger under her panties and slipped it inside her. Since this was all under the table, no one could see. He began fingering her.

Heather had never been more turned on in her life. He slipped his finger out, slid it up and found her engorged bud. She nearly cried out. She grabbed her program and fanned herself.

The MC began calling out names of candidates for the award for best erotic sci-fi, one of the categories for which Heather was nominated. But she could barely hear the announcer over the blood rushing in her ears. She stifled a scream as Gary increased his pace with his finger.

Just as she was ready to come, the MC announced the winner. Lissa Dubois.

At this point, Heather’s brain didn’t really register the name. She was too focused on coming. She screamed “Yes!” without even realizing it. But the “yes” sounded exactly like what it was—a cry of an orgasm. Her response brought down the house.

It took her a good minute to figure out what was happening. Thankfully, she was excellent at covering. Gary withdrew his hand, right as she stood up and she waved to everyone like she’d just copped off a good joke.

She couldn’t believe she had to be lucid after that hellacious orgasm. She would kill him later for that.

She accepted the award and then realized she had to make a speech.
“I’d like to thank the academy and all the little people,” she began. Laughs. “No, really, this is quite an honor and I hope that all of you go home and have great orgasms tonight.”

Cheers.

The MC, a fellow writer named Cheryl Marie, said, “Thanks, Lissa, but what we all want to know is if that hot red-haired guy that’s with you tonight was the inspiration for Toby in your book.”

The audience whooped and hollered.

“Uh… Well, you caught me. Of course, he was. Everyone, this is my boyfriend, Gary. Who is not a cop, by the way.”

The all applauded. Gary, who looked totally embarrassed, waved at everyone.

The MC said, “Stand up, Gary, so these people over here can see you,”

Gary reluctantly stood.

“—And so the people behind you can check out that fine ass of yours.”

Heather smacked Cheryl on the arm.

“We want to hear from the man,” Cheryl said. “Bob, hand him the roving microphone.”

Heather watched horrified as poor Gary was forced to take a microphone.

“Hey folks. Actually, I’m glad you handed me this. Gives me a great opportunity to say something about my girlfriend. And to my girlfriend. Not only is she a great writer, she’s a wonderful person. So wonderful, I’d like to ask her this question.”

“Uh, oh,” Lissa said into her mike. The audience laughed.

“As all of you know, Lissa is her pen name and I can’t say this using her pen name. So, for those of you who don’t know, I’m going to call her by her real name.”

“Oh, man, I’m outed,” Heather cracked.

“Heather, honey, not only am I happy to be that man in those books for you…”

People hooted.

“I want to be that man forever. Heather, will you marry me?”

A hushed silence fell over the crowd. Heather was stunned. Tears stung her eyes.

“Uh…”

“Folks, we’ve got tears, this is looking good,” Cheryl announced.

“Really?” Heather asked.

“Really honey, will you be my wife?”

“Uh, yeah. I mean, hell yeah. Really? Wow! I’m gonna be married!”

The crowed erupted. Heather jumped off the stage, raced to Gary and leapt into his arms.

“Hey, Lissa, you forgot your award!” the MC said.

Heather grabbed the mike from Gary. “I don’t need it! I got all the award I need tonight. I won the best prize ever! I love you, honey,” she said to Gary, which was carried by the mike.

Gary said, “I love you too, baby.” Into the mike he said, “Folks get ready, I think her next book is going to be about a fantastic honeymoon in Hawaii.”

The crowd’s roar was deafening.

© 2010 Michelle Carlyle