A Brief Encounter With My New Spanking Girlfriend – Part II

Please find part I here


Finally you stopped, “Up you get.” I scrambled clumsily to my feet and stood shamefaced before you. But you hadn’t finished humiliating me yet. You looked expectantly at your knee, I was confused, did you want me over again so soon? You took my arm and pulled me towards you, still not saying anything. And then you pulled me down to sit on your knee. This was new too and I blushed deeply, I’d never sat on a man’s knee before. Again I tried not to rest my weight and again you weren’t letting me away with it. Pulling me down and closer until I had no choice. I swallowed hard and resigned myself to the embarrassment. Our faces were very close and I could feel you watching me intently. Eventually I glanced at you and you smiled. This did everything to make me relax. Instinctively I nuzzled in close and you kissed me for the first time. My submission was complete, I was so rarely kissed voluntarily that I’d have done anything for you. You took your time and stroked and consoled me.

I was kissing you deeply in return when you said, “Okay Cherie, you know the next stage of this process.” Gently you pushed me off and guided me towards the wall.

“You know the drill Cherie, nose and toes against the wall, nose and toes!” You placed my hands on the top of my head. I was whimpering in distress and shaking slightly but I received a reassuring ‘good girl’ and calmed down a little. As you backed off to watch me, I trembled where I stood. You were soon back, running your hands over my body which responded outside of my control. For the first time you cupped my breasts and squeezed firmly, my knees gave way a bit.

“I hope you didn’t choose this cardigan because all these buttons would give me quite so much work Cherie?”

You asked as you began to unbutton them. I shook my head, I genuinely hadn’t! I heard a sceptical noise escape you. You removed the cardie and then unzipped my skirt. Tutting you said “Another button?” as you realised the skirt would not come down via zip alone!

You were obviously an expert at taking a girl’s bra off while she was still wearing her top and so that support was also removed from me. I was facing the wall in my high heels, hold ups, frillies and blouse. You pulled my knickers up one side at a time. I think you were checking for pinkness.

“Now you realise I’m going to have to spank you again? And this time it will be on your bare bottom, don’t you?”

“Yes, Sir.” It’s really a squeak, my throat is no longer working properly.

I hear you seat yourself again. “When you are ready Cherie, you will come here and place yourself over my knee again.” Everything inside me pulls up and contracts, your words are so powerful to me I can hardly bear it.

I take a deep breath and turn towards you, my hands still on my head. I stand meekly before you.

“Tell me why you’re about to be spanked again Cherie?”

Steeling myself I say in a very quiet voice “I’ve been disrespectful, provocative and disobedient, Sir.”

“That’s right, you have, so over you go.”

For the second time I place myself over your knee and again you take your time making sure I’m in a position that satisfies you.

This time there is no pleasant preamble, the slaps fall thick and fast on my knickers and I’m wriggling the wee bit possible. You stop and begin to edge my knickers down. I brace myself and lift slightly off your lap to ease the way. You push my knickers to mid-thigh and begin to spank me again. I’m whimpering by this time, trying to control myself. I feel my paranoia keenly, I’m worried you are appalled at how I look and are only carrying on because you’re already committed to the job. I can feel my nose begin to run. You push my knickers right down and tell me to kick them off. I obey you instantly. The spanking continues and I’m still facing the carpet, utterly humiliated and burning with embarrassment.

At last, at long last, you stop spanking and run you hand, almost lovingly (or is that my imagination?) over my backside.

I lie compliantly until you order me to my feet. This time I know what to do and when you signal, I sit on your knee. Again you hold and console me, soothing my shaking body. Then you lead me to the bed and let me lie in your arms. I am quite close to tears. I bury my head in your chest so you won’t see. Finally I’ve composed myself, you seem quite content to wait for me.

“Food?” I ask, you smile and nod. I had agreed to bring a picnic tea we could have in the room. I try to act normally as I butter the bread and scones but I can feel you watching me and it makes me nervous and shy. As I bring the food to the bed for you I note the quizzical expression on your face, I’m immediately paranoid, have I done something wrong? But you seem to enjoy the food and finally we’re relaxed and lying together, seemingly quite happy. We chat as if we’ve known each other our whole lives. Time is marching on though and we haven’t accomplished a fraction of the things we’ve discussed.

Suddenly your manner changes, provoking the instant submissive response in me, “It’s now my unfortunate duty to make your bottom smart even more, my girl.”

I look at you shyly.

You tut, “Really, I don’t know how you’ve got away with it for so long. Take this off.” And you begin hauling my blouse over my head. “And those!” You point to my hold ups. When I am naked, you order me onto all fours on the bed.

Retrieving something from your bag you place it before me and say, “You can think about this and how it is going to feel very soon.”

Lying on the bed is a thick, whip like, leather cord. It looks like it will be vicious.

You use the bathroom and then return, slithering the corded whip away from me.

“Are you ready, Cherie?”

“Yes, Sir.”

The first blow lands, it’s not as bad as I thought it was going to be. But you’re just getting the measure of my reactions and the second is a little firmer. Again I don’t react and you want a reaction. You begin to beat me quite methodically with it, harder and stronger with each blow. Soon I’m panting, my fingers bunching the quilt, my head going down towards the mattress. But you want noise, you want to know I’m really feeling it and you don’t stop until I’m yelping in pain. Only when you’re convinced I’ve been beaten enough do you stop. Then your hands are all over me and my back hollows in response to you, my head coming up.

For the first time you test for another reaction in me and I think even you are surprised at just how wet I am.

“Bad girl.” You chide, “You know I’ll have to punish you for this Cherie?”

I think I give a coherent response but I’m not sure.

“Let’s have a bath.” You announce and grateful to be released from my punishment I willingly agree.

As my well striped bottom sank into the hot water I winced and you grinned. I took the sponge and washed as much of you as I had access to. Again the conversation flowed very easily.

“You will be caned now Cherie, how are you usually caned?” You are so matter of fact and it rather takes my breath away.

“Over the back of a dining table chair, Sir.”

“Hmm…” you clamber out of the bath, “I think that chair is too high.”

I leave the water in your wake, wrap a towel around myself and follow you into the bedroom. You’ve placed the chair at the foot of the bed and placed the pillows on it.

“Can you kneel there please Cherie?

No, knees further back, lean right over with your hands on the bed.” You discard the towel.

It doesn’t even cross my mind to object. Your caning is very different. I’m used to swift, hard strokes with little if any time to recover between blows; and lots of them. You have another approach.

You take your time. There is stroking in advance, careful measuring, deliberately placed application, and controlled severity. I think I received about a dozen, each most effective and again by the time you’d finished I was suppressing my howls of distress. You allow me to get up and take me in your arms, permitting me to kiss you. At this moment I never want to stop kissing you, I want to stand here in your comforting embrace forever. You caress my backside, adding to the delicious pain I’m experiencing.

“Bed.” A simple command.

As we’re drifting off to sleep I ask if you are coming back the next night.

“Of course I am,” you reply, “I forgot to get your little toy, I can do that tomorrow; so don’t think you’re escaping that treat, it was your request after all.”

I shiver in delicious anticipation.

How is it so easy to fall asleep in the arms of someone you’ve just met?

Right now, sleep is very far away, but my orgasm is gathering, the very memory of you, stimulating me completely.
I might as well not have attended that training course – my ability to concentrate was negligible. All I could think about was what you were going to do to me that night. I had to plead a family crisis and a wait for a phone call to get out of dinner. I was able to grab us some food to eat in the room and this time we got that out of the way first. We lay on the bed and chatted for quite a while – almost like an old married couple, I thought.

Finally you say, “So Madam, I rather thought last night would suffice for your punishment, but it seems not. Here I am, about to have to spank you again.”

I’m trembling as I put myself over your knee, tonight I’m less nervous and able to better appreciate your technique. Which really is near to perfect. This time when you release my smarting rump, you settle yourself on the end of the bed and have me lie over one knee, facing onto the bed and with my legs spread very wide behind me on the floor. My pubis is directly on your thigh.

I hear you unwrap the package you’ve brought with you and I know what is coming. Involuntarily, although I really want this, my body betrays me and fights you. You can’t get the plug into my anus in this position, although you try very expertly. But you are not to be outdone.

“Right Madam, up and on your knees on the bed.” You push my knees apart, spreading me wide and pushing my face down into the quilt. This time you achieve your goal and for the first time in my life I am securely plugged. You tease me, vibrating it inside me whilst playing with my clitoris at the same time. The sensations are almost too much and I very nearly beg you to stop. You begin to spank me with the plug in place, firm and insistent. You are totally in control and the deep melting of submission holds me in thrall to you.

You make me stand ‘nose and toes’ again, with the plug in place. I doubt the noises emanating from me are making any sense but you appear to be interpreting them well enough. You take your time and seem to be enjoying my discomfort immensely. When you finally remove the plug, I cry out in ecstacy and agony. You order me into bed.

I lie there in some sort of haze, my entire body is shaking. You allow me to lie on my front and you hold me until the shaking begins to subside a little. I bury my face in your armpit and you laugh.

“Coming down yet?” you ask.

“A wee bit.” I reply and you chuckle at my Scots venacular.

I turn to face you and begin to kiss you.

“Are you going to be a good girl now?”

I pause, you’re used to my pauses.

Eventually I say, “I will try to be a good girl.”

“Oh, you don’t really think you’re going to get away with that, my girl?”

I press my lips together and shrug my shoulders.

“But you won’t be able to do anything about it if you’re not there, will you?” I say, a little provocatively.

You smile at me. A discussion ensues about the practicality of us meeting again. I adore the expression you use “We can frame this and hang it on the wall as a lovely memory.” It almost brings tears to my eyes.

My orgasm explodes at last, shaking my body and leaving me limp and exhausted, I smile to myself, it only took me 48 hours after I last saw you!
We part the next morning as the best of friends.

So it only remains to tell you how I feel now. You know my love of quotations and Cara Dillon said it best in ‘The Parting Glass’:

A man may drink and not be drunk,
A man may fight and not be slain,
A man may court a pretty girl
and perhaps be welcomed back again.

Thank you, Sir.

Mar sin leibh an drasda (A wee bit of the Scots Gaelic for you, English man)

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