Bent over and Blushing

A spanking fantasy

Sunday usually smells like coffee and bacon, but today the air tasted like trouble. Mark sat across from me at my table and could not keep his eyes off my mouth. The fork in his hand shook just a little.

He wasn’t much of a talker, but I’d started noticing the way his gaze lingered a little too long, the way his jaw tightened when I crossed my legs.

He cleared his throat and said it in one breath.

I want you to spank me. Over your knee. Naked.

Heat bloomed low in my belly. My chair scraped back and I stood. Living room, now. He stripped under my gaze and I guided him over my knee. The first smack cracked through the quiet like a bell. His body jerked, then softened into the sting. My palm tingled. I smiled.

I set a rhythm and let it build. Sharp swats, lingering caresses, a soft rake of nails over warm skin, then another firm smack that made him gasp my name. Color rose across his cheeks. His hips pressed against my thigh. Every sound he made fed my hunger and every strike fed his.

When I stopped, my hand rested on the heat I had made. You liked that, did you not. His yes came out rough and eager. I pulled him up and his hands were everywhere, the silk of my dress falling to the rug. The spanking had been the lesson. The kiss that followed was the reward.

We ended in a tangle on the floor, breathless and laughing, the room still echoing with the sound of my hand and his moans. Brunch can wait. The spanking had been foreplay, a spark to ignite something wild between us.