Newbie, Part One

Yo! Spankophiles!

Hey out there in cyberspace! Slammed today so I’ll make this short. Uh, not much going on but work, work and more work. Looking forward to Disneyland in November. And that’s about it.

Here’s a new story for you, soon to be found in…oh, goddamn it. Some freakin’ book I keep promising you guys and then have zero time to work on it. I need two of me to get all the stuff I have to get done.

This is the first of a sixteen-part story, so sit back and enjoy. I think you’ll like this one. Well, if you like spanking and sex, that is. And if you didn’t you certainly wouldn’t be here.

Hugs to you all,
Michelle


As Angela sipped her coffee and read the morning newspaper, she noticed Bill staring at her from the other side of the table. His blue gaze had a sinister glint in it; the corners of his sensual mouth were slightly upturned. A tingle went through her sex. Memories of the night before flashed through her mind, the tingle became a flame. No man had the effect Bill had on her. While they’d only been going out for a month, sex with the guy was off-the-scale.

She dropped the paper, and couldn’t help but smile at his handsome face. “What?”

His eyes narrowed, he nodded, his demeanor seeming almost villainous. A thrill went through her.

“You’re getting spanked tonight, girlie. Over my knee, pants down around your ankles, that fine ass of yours over my knee at my mercy.”

Her sex throbbed, her pulse jump-started. The night before, they’d discussed some of their secret fantasies, which as it turned out, dovetailed nicely with each other. But she had no idea he’d start this soon. Her knees got a bit wobbly, her hands a bit shaky. She’d always had spanking fantasies, but had been too chicken to try them out. And her last lover, her husband of ten years had been a solid dud in the sack.

Bill, however, was a powerhouse in the sack; inventive as hell and at forty-four he had more stamina than a nineteen-year-old. He was a whole new world for her. And while she’d always wanted to be spanked by a handsome, dominant man, she knew there was quite a difference between fantasy and reality.

“Uh…”

His wicked grin widened. “And there’s no way out. Tonight, I take control. You’ll do what you’re told. When you walk in that door at six tonight, you’re mine. You’ll do as I say. Safe-word is Vegas. Repeat it.”

“Vegas.”

His smile warmed. “Good girl.” He returned to his own section of the paper. Leaving her wet and squirming.


Later, she was at her desk at work, trying to figure out where she’d blown the spreadsheet. Numbers weren’t adding up. Truth be told, all she could think about was Bill and their upcoming evening. She was more nervous than a teenager going to her first prom. Which was probably why the numbers weren’t adding up. She’d been fighting for concentration all day.

Her cell phone buzzed in her front pocket, she jumped a foot, her heart thudding. Damn her nerves! She got out her cell; she’d received a text message.

The message read: Go into the bathroom, now. Text me when you get there. Bill.

What? A smile crept on her face. She looked around, guilty, as if everyone had just read Bill’s secret demand. Her co-workers were all focused on work or gossiping. No one was paying attention to her. Swallowing hard, she got up and casually walked into the bathroom and into a stall. The bathroom was empty. She did as ordered and texted Bill that she had arrived.

Immediately, another message appeared on her cell. Touch yourself. Hand down the panties. Do it.

Giggling, Angela complied. She felt so naughty! Her clit electrified under her touch. Oh, dear, she was going to come fast and she was at work! She’d never done anything like this before; it felt so bad. And so good!

Her cell rang, she gasped. It was Bill. “Uh, yeah?” she asked.

“Are you touching yourself?” His voice was silky and low. Just the sound of his voice made her sex throb harder.

“Yes,” she whispered.

“Good. I want you to run your index finger all around your hard little clit. Do it.”

“Okay,” she said quietly. She circled her folds with her finger, so dizzy with desire, she had to lean against the stall’s wall.

“Faster. Feel how hard it is. I’m doing it to you. That’s my finger touching you. Now I’m kissing you, taste me, feel my tongue in your mouth, exploring you. Now I’m touching you faster and harder. How does it feel?”

“Oooh, so good,” she said. She began to lose touch with where she was, all she could think about was Bill. His heady scent. The hard planes of his chest, the V that led down to his formidable tool, the feel of his silky skin under her touch, the steely musculature underneath.

“I’m touching you faster, faster, you want to come, but I won’t let you. Not yet. Hold back while I touch you faster. All you want to do is come, but I order you to hold yourself back.”

“Oh, Bill,” she groaned.

“Don’t you come and don’t stop touching yourself. You come and I’ll spank you double.”

Which was all it took for her to blow; panting, white spots danced across her vision; her ears rang, she moaned deep in her throat and at the last second, she clamped her lips shut so she wouldn’t scream aloud. She collapsed against the cold metal wall of the stall, fighting to get her breath back.

“Oh, little girl is going to pay for that. I heard that, honey. You’re in big, big trouble with me. Big trouble. Now calm down and go back to work and remember, you blew it and you’re gonna be punished for it.”

“I’m sorry, Bill.”

“Not as sorry as you’re gonna be,” he said in a low rasp. Which brought her right back to the verge of climaxing. The man wasn’t even with her and she was ready to explode.

“Now go back to work and think about what a bad girl you’ve been.”

“Yes, Bill.”

“Six o’clock, my house, don’t be late.” Click.

She stood there, stunned. Wiping the sweat from her brow, she wondered how she could walk back out there into the office without everyone knowing what she’d been up to.

©2010, Michelle Carlyle