Naughty Spanking Three Read online

  NAUGHTY SPANKING THREE

  A collection of twenty erotic stories

  Edited by Miranda Forbes

  Published by Accent Press Ltd – 2012

  ISBN 9781908917645

  Copyright © Accent Press Ltd 2009

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, electrostatic, magnetic tape, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise, without the written permission of the publishers: Xcite Books, Suite 11769, 2nd Floor, 145-157 St John Street, London EC1V 4PY

  The stories contained within this book are works of fiction. Names and characters are the product of the authors’ imaginations and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental

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  In Praise of Older Women

  by Laurel Aspen

  Fortunately the train was slowing as it approached the station or what followed might not have turned out so fortuitously. There were few passengers at this early hour of the morning, just two in the front coach; one standing ready to depart, the other seated.

  With no warning the carriage shuddered to an abrupt halt. Safe in his seat, Jake lurched sideways but the standing passenger was sent hurtling down the aisle. Instinctively Jake reached out and caught her, briefly aware of an altogether pleasingly yielding body enhanced by a pleasant perfume. A brief confusion of limbs ensued before the carriage became stationary, depositing the unfortunate female bottom up and head down across Jake’s lap.

  As he helped her up Jake looked closely at the lady for the first time. Nicely preserved, late 40s at a guess, sleek auburn hair, and a curvaceous figure with her full, firm bottom cheeks. She wore a black wool dress and matching jacket, Prada heels, small gold hoops in her ears and a similar plain band on her finger.

  The woman staggered to her feet allowing Jake to conclude his impromptu assessment: an attractive face enhanced by sparse makeup which made no attempt to conceal a few character-enhancing lines around her sparkling green eyes. Catching his glance she dissolved into laughter at the very English slapstick comedy of their situation. ‘Oh goodness,’ she exclaimed, ‘I was scared witless for a moment there, what an undignified posture to end up in’. ‘But not without its funny side,’ agreed Jake, ‘Whoops,’ he added as the train lurched forward, ‘we’re moving again.’

  Moments later the pair were standing on a station platform

  Jake took the initiative: ‘Coffee?’ he suggested, raising his eyes to indicate the street above. ‘I think I’ve had enough of the Underground. Jake Sinclair by the way,’ he added by way of a belated introduction, proffering his hand.

  Her warm palm grasped it enthusiastically. ‘Coffee sounds great,’ she said, ‘I’m going to be hopelessly late for the office but after all that I need the caffeine. Annette Robinson, very pleased to make your acquaintance. Mind you,’ she smiled wickedly, ‘I’m not sure of the precise etiquette of an introduction to a young man after you’ve been across his knee.’

  A small bell rang at the back of Jake’s brain, the gestation of the merest flicker of the possibility of an idea, ‘After you,’ he said politely and thoroughly enjoyed watching her shapely behind sashay elegantly up the stairs in front of him. As compensation for their subterranean fright they opted for a seat in the bright spring sunshine. Annette delicately sipped her coffee and sat back with a contented sigh, crossing her legs in the process and causing her skirt to ride up just far enough to reveal an elegantly sculptured pair of pins.

  ‘Thanks, Jake,’ she said graciously, ‘for saving me and being jolly chivalrous.’

  ‘Not at all,’ he replied, ‘to be honest, I rather enjoyed it.’

  ‘Would the experience have been so pleasurable with a 16-stone-rugby player in your lap?’ enquired Annette archly.

  ‘Fair point,’ conceded Jake, ‘I have to admit being in close proximity to a pretty women certainly enhanced the moment.’

  ‘Please,’ Annette raised her hand, ‘I wasn’t fishing for flattering comments. Not they aren’t welcome, nonetheless,’ she added quickly. ‘Now I’m over the shock I can’t help finding the whole incident amusing, and it’s not as if that was the first time I’ve found myself across a man’s knee.’

  ‘That’s a bold admission,’ Jake responded guardedly, careful not to betray his excitement as this intimate, revelatory bombshell was tossed casually into their conversation.

  ‘Well, it’s easier to talk to strangers,’ said Annette, ‘or so popular wisdom has it.’ She fell silent, her expression melancholy and wistful.

  ‘You didn’t make that remark by accident,’ Jake ventured after a decent interval. ‘I’m listening if you want to unburden.’

  ‘Our narrow escape back there on the train reminded me of how much fun I once had,’ said Annette. ‘My husband used to be quite the dominant, I never knew how far he’d go. Spanked, or worse, until his arm tired or he saw fit to halt, then rogered, rough and ready.’

  ‘He’s not,’ Jake fumbled for diplomatic words, ‘Ill or dead?’

  ‘Bless your tact, not dead, no, a fate far worse.’ She laughed sarcastically, ‘I’m a sodding golf widow.’

  ‘And you’re telling me because..?’ Jake enquired carefully.

  ‘Because fate might just have presented me with an opportunity for one last sexual adventure, is it possible you’d be interested?’ Abruptly Annette’s confidence seemed to evaporate, ‘I mean I know the age gap is pretty big, I’m 50, you’re what, 30 and rather gorgeous?’

  ‘Twenty-nine,’ Jake gently interrupted her, aware that the power now lay squarely with him.

  ‘My boobs used to be higher, my waist smaller and my bum less cushioned but even if I say so myself these legs are pretty good and...’

  ‘Annette stop!’ demanded Jake ‘You’re the epitome of the gorgeous older woman – a literal Mrs Robinson. Of course I find you desirable, and we appear to share certain, er, erotic preferences. Vanilla’s not the only flavour and I’m not a total stranger to the sensual art of spanking. I’ll happily take you to task, but to be honest I’m not on for a long-term relationship.’

  ‘No that’s fine, thanks for being completely candid,’ Annette’s face lit up with relief and anticipation. ‘I don’t want to exploit you or delude myself. Don’t want you around long enough to go off me. Just one exciting, not-too-brief encounter is all I ask.’

  ‘You’re on, carpe diem,’ confirmed Jake. A very pregnant pause ensued.

  ‘So, um, how shall we go about it?’ Annette ventured at last.

  ‘OK, here’s a plan,’ suggested Jake, thinking on his feet. ‘Are you free anytime at all during the day, what was it you do?’

  ‘Yes, and let’s just say “businesswoman”. Talking about work or our other lives is too boring and complicated.’ Annette answered.

  ‘Agreed, keep the mystery and stick with the shared interests,’ assented Jake. ‘Suffice it to say I’m, ahem, between professional engagements.’

  ‘And a touch impecunious? I suggest a hotel room, anonymous, upmarket and overnight – and on my credit card,’ concluded Annette smoothly.

  ‘Thanks,’ said Jake simply and Annette was relieved to note that his masculinity wasn’t for a moment challenged by her volunteering to pick up the tab.

  ‘OK,’ Jake went on, ‘let’s meet here prior to checking-in sometime next week?’

  Annette consulted her diary, ‘Until 3pm next Wednesday then,’ she agreed, blowing a him a kiss and elegantly departing.

  Exactly one week later the couple sat at the same table, beneath a lime tree on a sun-d
appled London pavement.

  Annette had arrived first and had certainly made an effort to dress up to the occasion. Her freshly cut auburn hair was glossy and a retro 50s-style, designer dress emphasized her waist and flattered her figure. Her nylon-sheathed legs were elegantly crossed and a peep-toed, high-heeled, sling back dangled coquettishly from one foot as she sipped a cappuccino.

  Annette greeted what she’d already come to think of as her young man affectionately. Jake, firmly grasping the initiative, returned her welcome with enthusiasm, ordered an Americano and sat down. Without preamble he spoke clearly and authoritatively: ‘Good afternoon Mrs Robinson. No doubt you’re wondering what is about to happen to you? Kindly pay close attention: at the hotel I shall escort you to our suite where a “do not disturb” sign will remain on the door for the duration. Once inside I intend to begin by removing your knickers, spreading your legs and punishing your bare bottom, you are going to be chastised.’

  Annette gasped aloud, glancing quickly around in case anyone should have overheard. She’d no need to worry; the elderly Italian waiter had retreated inside.

  Annette’s green eyes widened, despite her initial attempt at sang froid she blushed, squirming in her chair and clenching her thighs with delight at the prospect of bittersweet pleasures to be visited upon her.

  ‘You’ve gone strangely quiet,’ observed Jake dryly.

  Annette said nothing, her body language a far more eloquent expression of emotions. Face flushing pink she lowered her eyelashes, looked down at her painted toes. Annette’s pulse quickened and she struggled to suppress the competing emotions of fear and desire. Adrenalin coursed electrically through her veins, her breasts visibly heaved beneath the black dress. What had begun as a whimsical escapade, a divinely decadent suggestion of sexual impropriety and licence now seemed fraught with darker, risky possibilities.

  ‘If you wish to opt out with no shame nor hard feelings now, but only now, is the time,’ whispered Jake softly.

  Enjoying the last element of control she was likely to exercise until the morrow, Annette let her young paramour wait a moment for her reply. At last she drained her coffee and favoured Jake with a red-lipsticked smile. ‘Shall we take a cab or walk?’ she asked innocently, rising from her chair.

  The taxi trip to the hotel was a prelude to a series of voyeuristic pleasures for Jake. The suggestive sway of Annette’s undulating hips as her high heels clicked across the marble-floored lobby of their hotel. The merest suggestion of stocking top as she’d decorously alighted from their conveyance. Annette’s teeteringly high heels forced her to take short, careful steps, conscious of her posture, shoulders back, calves tensed; pushing out her buttocks and bosom to their best advantage.

  Suddenly she felt like an18-year-old about to spend her first full night with a lover, her knickers already damp at the prospect. Fortunately Jake was charm and concern personified.

  ‘Drink?’ he enquired as they stood on the balcony of their room looking out on high-rise London, its office blocks still groaning with toiling masses. ‘There’s something deliciously decadent about an afternoon assignation,’ said Annette, the first sips of Italian grape lending her courage. ‘That guy over there certainly looks jealous,’ said Jake, nodding in the direction of a tired middle manager gazing blankly in their direction from the nearest such building only 50 feet or so away. ‘Let’s give him a little treat.’

  Setting down his drink he stepped smartly over and turned Annette gently by the shoulders until her back faced the hapless executive. Initially distracted by a kiss on her lips, too late Annette divined Jake’s ulterior motive as in one smooth movement his hands slid from her upper arms, down over her bounteous curves and, grasping the hem of her dress, raised it to her waist.

  ‘Bloody hell,’ the watching executive gawped open-mouthed, the lucky young devil over yonder was no doubt about to give that fine-looking female a bloody good seeing to.

  On the balcony Annette’s eyes blazed fiercely. ‘You rotten sod,’ she said vehemently, ‘I didn’t agree to an audience,’ and to emphasize her point she slapped Jake across the cheek.

  ‘Splendid,’ announced Jake coolly, ‘exactly what I predicted you’d do. Your striking the first blow gives me just the opportunity I was waiting for.’ He pulled her firmly into the hotel room and lowered the blinds.

  Immediately Annette found herself back over Jake’s knee, head down, fingers and toes touching the floor and the hem of her dress once more hoisted to her waist. Ten minutes is a long time to spend staring helplessly at the carpet while one’s bottom is comprehensively smacked.

  The sharply stinging heat in her rear drew an increasingly animated reaction; her previously well-groomed poise deserting her. Annette yelped and moaned at each percussive impact, twisting desperately across Jake’s lap. Knickers twisting tightly between the cheeks of her now blush-pink bottom, heaving breasts visible as the top fastening of her dress came undone. No longer worried about the undignified exhibition she presented, Annette sought only to assuage the almost unbearable smart in her poor punished rear.

  Jake eventually took the stinging sensation in his palm as an indication that sufficient chastisement had been delivered, for the moment. Lifting Annette from his lap he savoured the sight of her agitatedly hopping from foot to high-heeled foot, frantically rubbed her glowing buttocks.

  ‘Oooh,’ she complained, ‘even allowing for my being out of practice you didn’t have to start off so hard!’

  ‘I’ll be the judge of that,’ replied Jake firmly, ‘besides,’ he added with a conspiratorial grin, ‘something about your expression makes me think the after-effects aren’t entirely unpleasant?’

  ‘You may just have a point there,’ Annette agreed ruefully; aside from the smart a familiar feeling of arousal was beginning to suffuse her most intimate parts. ‘Perhaps you’d like to come and kiss me better?’ she ventured hopefully.

  ‘All in good time,’ responded Jake, manfully resisting the lure of a full, pink bottom barely contained by almost translucent ivory knickers and tapering down to trim tan stocking-sheathed thighs. ‘However, I believe in putting the waiting into wanting; first we’ll take a little trip out for a meal.’

  ‘Oh Christ! How can I concentrate on food and conversation when I’m this turned on?’ she groaned.

  ‘I don’t know, but I’m sure I’ll enjoying watching how uncomfortably you sit in the restaurant,’ said Jake nonchalantly.

  Rotten devil, thought Annette, wisely keeping the insult to herself for in reality she found the situation strangely liberating, a reversal of her usual role of being in total control. Jake’s effortless direction of events freed Annette from all responsibility for what might subsequently occur, allowing her imagination to savour the wistful joys of anticipation.

  Thus it was that an unsatiated, hot and bothered woman walked, rather stiffly, from the hotel on the arm of her somewhat smug-looking young beau.

  Despite whispered warnings to behave Annette fidgeted restlessly on the rear seat of the black cab. ‘How can I keep still,’ she protested plaintively, ‘my bottom’s burning and I’m frustrated!’

  ‘Behave yourself, we’re in public,’ Jake admonished sternly.

  Annette spent the rest of the short ride in petulant silence but gradually thawed with the aid of red wine and food at the restaurant and was fully restored to her newfound coquettish self by the time dessert was served, whereupon Jake got his next surprise.

  Returning from a trip to powder her nose Annette inconspicuously pressed a lacy scrap of material into his palm.

  ‘A handkerchief?’ enquired Jake, puzzled. A subsequent visual inspection was enough to quickly disabuse him and with the unmistakable scent of female arousal strong in his nostrils he hastily stuffed the knickers into his pocket and turned to interrogate the strumpet seated opposite him. Jake leaned forward and spoke quietly: ‘When we get back to the hotel, Annette, I am going to smack your bare bottom very hard for this impudence.’

&n
bsp; ‘I expected nothing less,’ she countered, slipping a dainty, nylon-clad foot from the confines of her shoe and beneath the tablecloth stretched her leg until five scarlet-painted toes were planted firmly in his groin.

  ‘Too late to stop now,’ she said, deliberately knocking his napkin to the floor.

  Instinctively Jake bent to pick it up and was rewarded with a clear view up his paramour’s skirt, past tightly suspendered stocking tops to her naked, visibly damp vagina.

  ‘Isn’t it about time you took me back to the hotel and dealt with me severely?’ Annette queried huskily.

  ‘Waiter, the bill please,’ called Jake.

  Grasped firmly by the wrist Annette was propelled, mildly tipsy, into their hotel whereupon Jake attached the promised ‘do not disturb’ sign to the handle and firmly locked the door.

  ‘The reckoning,’ he announced crisply, turning to face his putative punishee, ‘and you can forget all about a preliminary warm-up spanking.’

  ‘I was rather hoping for a good seeing-too,’ Annette purred in her most seductive tones.

  ‘Well you’re getting a sound dose of good old-fashioned discipline first,’ Jake growled.

  ‘Uh oh,’ Annette gulped, she was for it now, the extremes of pain and pleasure, just as she’d fantasised countless times over the last week.

  Calmly, deliberately, Jake placed a straight-backed upholstered chair in the window, facing towards the anonymous office block whose lonely occupant they’d so entranced earlier in the day. Jake bade her kneel and, meekly yielding to disciplinary fate, Annette acquiesced to his undeniable authority. Moving with dignified elegance she knelt, lifted her dress to her waist and held it there, making only the faintest sound through pursed lips as Jake ran an exploratory palm over her knickerless derriere. Peering over her shoulder, Annette watched, hardly daring to breath, as he produced a supple, surprisingly thick strap about 18 inches long.

  ‘The heaviest of my tawses,’ he announced, ‘admirably suited to play havoc with a properly grown-up and delinquent bottom.’