How I Found A Spanking Playmate – Part I

She Wrote:

So how to approach this?  One might think that having propositioned you once, it would be easy second time round.  Oh how wrong one would be!

This it tougher than before, I don’t exactly have the measure of you yet but I have a better idea than I did the last time and that makes me even more reticent.

I know you have a sense of humour but you also have quite a well developed sense of propriety, especially where cheeky subs are concerned.  So what will cause you to shake your head and laugh, or put your head in your hands in despair, or have you reaching for a sturdy implement to use on me?

And does it matter, cos’ this is just a comforting little fantasy in my head?  And no need to worry, I can most definitely separate fantasy from reality!!

 

Oh, now I’m so far off the point you’re probably screaming at the page ‘For God’s sake woman, get on with it!’  Right?

Alright then, I’ll just get stuck in.

I’ve always been cheeky, very often to my detriment.  But I’ve never been a bad girl before, but you’ve managed to turn me into a very bad girl indeed.  Now, of course you will deny this, you will protest that you’ve only ever acted in terms of improving my behaviour.  But really, you know that isn’t true!  How dull would life be if I was constantly the ‘good girl’ you profess you want me to be?

So where has my devious little mind been taking me now?

I know this is possible (well in my head it is anyway).  Nothing wrong with a matching pair of photos on the wall!

You arrive on Friday night, I immediately introduce you to my sofa – I’ve told you all about my sofa haven’t I?  Oh yes, I think I have.  It has arms at the perfect height for just about anything we might want to get up to.  Very good for bending over.  You’re a bit annoyed at having to come to me – it has inconvenienced you, and you intend to make me pay.  You barely take time to get your coat off and you’ve grasped me firmly by the back of the neck and pushed me down into my soft furnishings.

I hear you hurumph, my skirt isn’t quite so thick this time and that appears to amuse you, but I have managed some pretty pink frillies.  I want to give you a nice vibrant colour to try and match.  I know you’re always up for a challenge.
But you’re not playing along, I know you don’t like ‘topping from the bottom’ and I am not going to get the chastisement I’m craving, well not yet anyway.  So a couple of semi-serious slaps will have to keep me going.

“Where’s my dinner, woman?” you demand, reducing me to helpless giggles, not the response you wanted, I’m sure.  We’ve agreed you’re going to be domly as much as possible as time is short.  But I wasn’t expecting a caveman quite so soon.  You start to laugh as well and you let me scramble to my feet and we actually have a kiss, our first in months.

We eat, I’m particularly concerned you like the cake I’ve made you.  You do.  I’ve tried to make you feel as much at home as possible by taping all that week’s episodes of Eastenders for you.  However you appear not to be too bothered about The Queen Vic and request that I bring you my range of implements for your inspection.

Of necessity I don’t have very many, there is a bamboo cane, two paddles, one leather and the other wooden (you’re quite well acquainted with the wooden one already), and a very pliable bedroom slipper.  You heft the paddles into your hand, then test the slipper.  I notice you’re wearing a particularly thick belt.  My loins are stirring just watching you and before I realise what you’re up to, you’ve pulled me over your knee, tugged down the knickers it took me so long to choose, and the slipper is at work.

“What, no warm up?” I squeak.

“Not this time, my girl.”  You reply, laying on with gusto.  I adore the slipper, domesticity appeals to me, as you know.  And you’re obviously something of an expert.  At first I’m panting with desire but you’re too good at your work and soon I’m squirming in protest and finally yelping in despair.  I clutch your trouser leg and tug firmly to let you know I’m really feeling it.  But you’re not convinced.

“Oh no you don’t, Miss.  I’m nowhere near finished yet.”  And my slippering continues until you’re sure I won’t try ‘topping’ again this weekend.

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