My Naughty Little Secret (7 page)

“Michael, this is bloody ridiculous, being so angry over me paying for lunch; you paid for everything yesterday and I just wanted to show my appreciation. Stop being such a spoiled ungrateful brat.”

“You think this is about you paying for lunch? Maybe it started that way, Siobhan, but honestly, the way you yelled and swore, you were like a three-year-old having a tantrum. With a foul mouth like that, you deserve a good spanking.”

Uh oh, he really shouldn’t have said that. The headmaster image was back in my head in a flash and boy, was I ready to play out the role of the naughty schoolgirl. The thought was really hot. I could feel something deep inside me stirring, an awakening of my true self.

“Do it then! Put your money where your mouth is. You’re angry, you want to spank me, then go ahead,” I challenged without engaging my brain. What the fuck was I thinking?

“
Pardon
?” His eyes were wide and his jaw kind of hanging open.

“You heard me. I said if you think I should be spanked, then do it,” I goaded further.

That was it. He grabbed me by the waist and dragged me over to the sofa. Before I knew what was what, I was flipped across his lap and he was trying to pull down my jeans. They were a snug fit and he couldn’t get them down.

“Bare yourself,” he snapped.

“What, you must be joking.” I felt his hand come down hard twice, once on each buttock. I squealed.

“I’m going to keep doing this until you bare yourself, then I’m going to give you twenty hard smacks. Now it can be just those twenty, or it can be as many as you want.”

Bloody hell, that was some choice, I quickly undid my jeans and rolled them down.

“And your panties,” he warned, raising his hand. I quickly obliged.” Now back across my lap.”

I felt each one of those stingers on alternating cheeks, a firm hard slap followed by a soothing rub, followed by another slap. I was squealing—I really didn’t expect it to be so sore. He counted them out, lecturing me between spanks about how I was to show more respect. It was humiliating and painful. But it was turning me on in spite of that, or indeed maybe because of that. I mentally counted each stroke. At first as he raised his hand, I clenched my bottom in anxiety, but I soon learned that it was less painful if I tried to relax. Finally he was done.

“Have you something to say, Siobhan?” he asked in that schoolmaster voice.

“I’m sorry for losing my temper and swearing at you,” I offered humbly. I was still lying across his lap with my bare bottom exposed and scorched. I was sore, embarrassed, and horny as hell. He was rubbing it all the while and it felt so good. I felt his fingers travel down to my clit and he started to chuckle.

“You’re such a naughty girl, you liked that. You’re soaking.”

I was mortified, but it was true. As I felt the blush rise, I figured the hue of my face cheeks were probably matching my bottom cheeks at this moment. I really wanted to be fucked there and then. His fingers penetrated my pussy and I moaned with ecstasy. I dragged him up to my bedroom, afraid the girls could arrive any moment. The horrific thought that we were bloody lucky not to have been caught as he spanked me suddenly jolted me into reality. Once upstairs, he quickly undressed and I soon saw I wasn’t the only one excited by the spanking. He was hard as hell. I knelt down and took him in my mouth. It just seemed like the natural thing to do, almost a gratitude for his punishing me. I sucked hard until he pulled me away, barking an order at me. He was forever with the orders, but this one I didn’t question.

“Lean over the bed standing up.”

I did as I was bid and my red tender bottom was protruding in that position. I heard a sharp excited inhalation.

“You look so fucking hot like that,” he exclaimed.

I could hear him fumble with the foil and within seconds, with no foreplay or touching me, he grasped me by the hips and pushed inside, thrusting hard and mercilessly. He simply took me; this was no lovemaking, it was pure hard riding, animalistic coupling. And it was out of this world. I could feel my body clench and I knew my orgasm would be merciless. I was having difficulty keeping standing. Michael held me in place by my tender buttocks and hips, preventing my legs from giving way beneath me. The slap of his navel against my tender buttocks was deliciously punishing, reminding me of my submission, and I shouted his name in guttural appreciation as the climax came swiftly and furiously. My arousal and his own excitement at the animal ferocity ensured he was right there with me.

And thus started our journey in this strange sensual world of combined pleasure and pain, and although we didn’t know the name for it yet, our own version of domestic discipline.

Chapter Six

Somehow or other we got from that position to lying under the duvet on my bed. I had lost all sense of reality or time. I know I must have dozed off, because I noticed the sound of the girls talking and I hadn’t heard them come in. Michael was lying on his side, looking at me, neither smiling nor frowning—more pensive.

“Hey, sleepyhead,” he greeted with a kiss. “You ok?”

“Hmmm, yes, sleepy, you?”

“Siobhan, crikey, that’s such a mouthful every time, what do your friends or family call you?”

“Shiv or sometimes Vonnie.”

“Shiv it is,” he said decisively. “Look, about spanking you, I don’t know what the hell came over me, I shouldn’t have done it…”

Oh, no, the post mortem… God, how I hated post-coital post-mortems…the “how was it for you” talk. If a man was worth his salt, he’d have noticed exactly how it was for me and not had to ask. He’d be able to read the road signs and save me this torture. Right on cue…

“…But you obviously liked it. Is this how you normally like it?” He was choosing his words carefully and speaking haltingly. The tone he was trying for was blasé, but the one he was achieving was somewhat more like gobsmacked.

“Christ, I dunno, I’ve never done it before either, but it was the best sex I’ve ever had.” I managed to splutter out. This was really embarrassing, much worse than the usual after-sex autopsy. And I hadn’t a clue where I stood with him, especially after the row. I certainly didn’t want to be having this discussion with someone I might never go out with again.

“Fuck, me too, I don’t know what to say. In one way I feel like some kind of horrible woman beater, but in another I feel on top of the world. Like the king of the jungle.”

“Would you do it again if you got the chance?” I asked with genuine interest, not so much to see if we would have another date, but to see if he really liked it.

“Damn right I would, but I don’t know if I should, it seems wrong.”

“Was it wrong if I loved it and had asked you to do it?” I reasoned.

We went round in circles debating the good and the bad, but we didn’t discuss whether we would go out again or where we stood. Finally I said it was time for him to go: I had things to do that evening. He wanted to stay, but I really needed him gone. I had a lot to figure out. He pressed me to see him again the following night, but to me it seemed to be too much, too soon.

“Next weekend. I thought you said you weren’t a stalker.”

“Yeah, and
you
said you were innocent. Wednesday, and that’s my final offer.”

“Fine, but tomorrow at work, none of this ever happened, right?”

“Shiv, I don’t want to be pedantic, but it did happen. And I don’t want to pretend it didn’t.”

“Yeah, well, that’s
my
final offer, if you want to meet up on Wednesday, then we keep it quiet.”

“What about the spanking? Do you want to do that again?” he asked.

“Can we think about it and talk about it later? I have to process it in myself first.”

It seemed a fair enough request; it was after all only one date, albeit a startlingly eventful one. He seemed happy to drop the subject for now. Michael was dressed first and went down to say hi to the girls, closely followed by me.

“One housemate returned safe and sound, sign here please, ladies.” I heard him say as I came down the stairs.

“Not ‘til I make sure the goods aren’t damaged,” I heard Claire reply with the typical Irish caustic sense of humour. As I came in, she looked at me.

“Humph, they might not be damaged, but I doubt they’re intact,” she commented at my flushed expression, hastening Michael’s exit. I guess he just wasn’t used to the Irish forthright wit. She giggled at his sudden departure. I went to the door with him.

“Go easy on me, I want to be able to call again,” he said as he kissed me goodbye.

“Whad’ya mean?”

“I mean with the girls. I don’t want them meeting me with the sweeping brush the next time I call. You’re not going to tell them about the spanking, are you?”

“Dunno, I s’pose it depends on how much wine I have,” I said honestly. “See you tomorrow, and I mean it, back off at work.”

“Ok. Ok. Tomorrow…” And with that he was gone.

As per usual, we all spent the next couple of hours organising ourselves for the following week, ironing work clothes, etc. Then it was time for wine, music, and cards, our normal Sunday night ritual. We put The Eagles into the CD player, popped the cork, dealt the cards, and discussed our weekends. Tara was first up. She had scored at the club and that was why she was missing in action all weekend. A lad called Dave whom she had no intention of ever seeing again.

Claire was next; it had been a normal weekend for her: an Indian takeaway followed by a couple of drinks before closing time in Pete’s local, joined by some of his football mates.

My turn. How much to reveal and how much to conceal was the big question. So far we’d only had one glass of wine, so I was cautious. I told them about the meal, theatre, and going for lunch. I wasn’t ready to disclose the details of the row or the aftermath yet. They both expressed envy at Michael’s gentlemanly behaviour. Hah, if only they knew. That envy could be so easily overturned or intensified, depending on their preferences. I kind of knew deep down that for all her experience and bravado, Tara would be horrified at me; she just wouldn’t do submissive. Dominatrix, maybe, but not sub! Claire, for all her sense and cautiousness, was likely to be more open-minded.

We always played this daft game where we started at one hundred and one, and lost points based on the cards we held in our hand at the end of the night. A good game lasted for a full bottle of wine. If we decided to play again, it was easy to go through the second bottle.

After the first game Tara said she was knackered from the weekend’s activities and went to bed. Claire and I played on. The Eagles were on repeat and we were singing along to “Lyin’ Eyes” and “Take It To The Limit.” Needless to say, “Desperado” got an extra loud refrain. By the time we were halfway through the second bottle, Claire asked:

“So, you seeing him again?”

“Wednesday night, if he behaves at work,” I admitted.

“Look, tell me to mind my own business, but you’ve been doing nothing except givin’ out about him since you met him. So what’s the fascination?”

Hell, she’d really got me there. I hadn’t a clue what the fascination was, but it was undeniable. And of course she was right; there wasn’t a day when I didn’t come home from work complaining, or as we Irish put it, “giving out” about him.

“I don’t honestly know. Maybe it’s because he’s a real man. Y’know, the stereotypical Alpha male,” I offered. Shit, too much wine, definitely!

“No, I don’t know, Shiv. All I know is you’re different since you met him and I can’t decide if it’s good or bad. So, are you ready to tell me yet or do I have to wait ‘til it all falls apart and I have to pick up the pieces?” Obviously too much wine for her too! Claire would never normally be so blunt or interfering.

“Fuck it, Claire, he’s
fit
for me, there’ll be none of the sneaking around Brian used to do because he hadn’t the courage to be straight.”

“Brian snuck around because he was a worm, not because he was scared of you. And what makes you think Michael is
fit
for you, as you say?”

“Coz we had a massive row today and he spanked me,” I blurted out.

Claire spat her mouthful of wine across the table; red droplets stained the deck of cards and the cream tablecloth. You could safely say I had her attention.

“What the fuck…and you let him…are you NUTS? The bastard, you should call the cops.”

“There’ll be no calling the cops, Claire, I asked him to do it. And I’m glad I did, it was hot as hell,” I told her defiantly.

“Shit, and you’re going out with him again? What’s wrong with you, woman?” she shouted.

Well, it was obvious she didn’t approve of my little “sexcapade,” but I really didn’t care. I’d been thinking about it since Michael left and I didn’t regret it in the least. In fact, I was pretty sure I’d like to try it again, if he was willing. I wondered if I’d be able to find anything about it on Google. I called a halt to the cards and went to bed. I’d had enough excitement for one day. My behind was still on fire and my nether regions still sensitive. I was beginning to wish I hadn’t sent him home because I was horny as hell.

* * *

My phone was ringing just as I reached my desk the next morning. Blimey, it was only ten to nine; who was looking for me this early?

“Hi, it’s me, I missed you last night,” Michael crooned. “Are you free for lunch?” I was pretty annoyed. So much for being discreet.

“Hi, Michael, you‘re stalking, it’s your official warning—ring a bloody shrink, I’ve only just taken my jacket off and already you’re harassing me.”

“Sorry,” he said sheepishly. “I just want to see you. I want to make sure we’re ok.”

“We’re ok? When did it become
we
?” I asked, “We’ve had one weekend together.”

“Yeah, but what a weekend, and I’d like it to be
we
.” I could picture the grin I heard in his voice. “By the way, are you sitting ok?”

“Right, that’s it, hang up that fucking phone
now
. I’m not having this conversation with you at work,” I said crossly. Incidentally, I could still feel a tingling in my buttocks, not quite sore, but tender. Michael’s tone changed abruptly.