The Mammoth Book of Women's Erotic Fantasies (20 page)

“Good girl,” he says and kisses me on the back of my neck. The touch of his lips sends my clit throbbing. I’m not sure I can stand any more. But what choice do I have?
He’s literally got me where he wants me.

“Stay still, just like this,” he tells me. “Don’t try to resist me. It won’t work and will just earn you more and harder punishment. Now . . .” he pauses. His
hand moves from my butt. His fingers slip inside the waist band of my skirt and before I realize what he’s doing, he pulls it down my legs until it falls off my ankles. Damn elastic waists!
Why hadn’t I worn blue jeans? That would have slowed him down. At least I’m wearing tummy flattening panties. They’re a bitch to yank on in the morning. They won’t come off
so easily. He strokes my butt. Nothing new in that – he’s always liked my butt. Once told me I’d the loveliest arse he’d ever seen.

Why wasn’t I warned?

His hand caresses the back of my thighs and up again. I relax a little as he strokes my ass. Maybe he’s seen all the spandex and has decided to leave them on. No such luck! With a shift of
his leg, bouncing me up a few inches, and a quick yank, they’re off and down. He pulls again and they’re at my knees. Tight-fitting as they are, they’re as good as shackles. I
can’t move my legs at all. Just what he wants no doubt.

At that I give up and sag against his strong thighs.

He’s right. I have longed to know how this feels. Too bad, now it’s happening, I’m ready to change my mind!

He strokes my bare butt. The calluses on the tips of his fingers brushing my skin. I like this. I’ve always enjoyed having my ass admired. I love the feel of his hand caressing me.

Maybe this won’t be too bad.

My shoulders relax, and so does my ass.

“Lovely!” he whispers. Whether he’s pleased I’m not resisting, or admiring my ass, who knows? Who cares? I’m more concerned about the first slap and when it’s
going to land. How hard will it sting? Will he make me yelp? No! That I won’t do! Not at any price!

“How does that feel?” he asks as his fingertips trace gentle cycles over my cheeks.

“Nice,” I concede.

“Good,” he whispers. “Get ready. I’m about to start. Remember you’re forbidden to move.”

I can’t help it. My entire body tenses. After what seems an age, the first spank lands. It’s barely a touch: a little love pat, followed by another. I smile. Why was I so damn worked
up? This is easy! Nice in fact. Just gentle love pats all over my butt. I relax. He’s moved to my thighs. I feel the slaps, yes, but they don’t hurt. I got all in a stew and it’s
nothing to be scared about. Heck, he’s given me harder slaps on my rump in play!

He can keep this up as long as he wants. I almost tell him so, but his hand eases between my legs and he finds my wet pussy.

“Ah! Hah!” He sounds so darn pleased. I want to kick him. Fat chance of that with my knees shackled with my spandex panties! “All those protests and this is turning you
on!”

Can’t deny it. Damn well don’t want to agree. So I keep quiet. Concentrating on the carpet, the warmth in my ass and legs and the ever-growing smell of my arousal.

Two, three more pats on my ass. “Did that hurt?”

“No,” I reply, “not at all.”

“This will.” Before my mind processes his words, his hand comes down. Hard. With the horrid splat of flesh on flesh. I yell, rearing up and struggling to move away.

It does me no good. A hand between my shoulder blades forces me back down and he grabs my flailing arm and bends it up behind me in a chicken wing. Illegal wrestling moves must be allowed when
spanking.

“Let go of me!” I tell him and I half turn to scowl at him.

“Not until you promise not to resist me.”

“That hurt!”

“Of course it did.” He sounds irritated. “This is punishment, Jenny. You must expect it to hurt. That was just the first of many you deserve, and I intend to see you get them
all.”

“The first ones didn’t hurt.”

“They were just to warm you up for the punishment proper.”

Friggin’ hell!

Silence for several, long seconds. “Well, Jenny?” he barks at me, like a drill sergeant in the movies. “Are you going to promise not to fight me? I’m waiting.”

“What if I refuse?”

Silence and a long sigh. “You have two choices. Either lie still on my knee and accept your punishment without resisting. A punishment you know you’ve longed for and justly deserve.
Or . . .” he pauses, hand on my warmed over ass, as I wait to hear the alternative that I just know will be worse. “If you resist the spanking, I will bend you over the foot of the bed,
tie your hands down, and give it to you with my belt.”

Sheesh! Why had I ever thought this would be fun? Even more to the damn point, why were my pussy lips wet with arousal? No point in trying to think that one out. I most certainly did not want to
feel his belt on my arse. His hand was bad enough.

“I won’t fight you,” I reply and my body sort of sags against his legs. I want this, I have to admit. But I’m dreading it. How many more like that last one will I get?
Can’t be too many. It has to hurt his hand too.

“Good.”

Takes me only moments to regret that promise, but what’s my alternative? His belt? I shudder under the onslaught and accept each punishing slap as my arse burns and throbs.

At first, I count. Four slaps and a pause. To let his hand rest more likely than to ease my sore ass. Four more. Another pause. Four more – harder this time, I swear. I give up counting.
It takes all I have not to scream, but I don’t. Tears come first, spilling hot down my cheeks onto the carpet.

I’m hurting. Bad. Every inch of my butt stings and smarts and it gets worse with each hard slap. I let out a yelp here and there, unable to hold it all back and my tears run faster as I
sob. I lose track of time and place. I’m aware of nothing but the building pain in my ass and the increasing throb in my clit. Through my tears, I smell my arousal. This is crazy, insane and
. . .

He stops.

It takes me a few sobs and gasps to realize he’s no longer spanking. I’m just lying there, hurting, arse burning, pulse throbbing in my ears, eyes sore from crying. Through the
morass of sensation and emotion, his lovely voice comes clear.

“It’s over, Jenny.”

As he helps me to my feet, and holds me close, I know that’s not true. My arse might hurt but my entire body pulses with arousal.

I look up into his eyes. “I need . . .” I begin, unsure what I really do need.

“I know.” He lifts my chin with his hand – the hand that moments earlier was punishing and now caresses. Holding my face between his hands, he brings his lips to mine. A slow,
lingering kiss, tongue on tongue and filling my mouth with his presence.

Now I know exactly what I need! My hips rock of their own volition and I feel his erection under his jeans.

“Please . . .” I begin, too tired, too sore, too aroused, to talk straight.

No problem. He knows. He picks me up and lays me on my side on the bed. I shut my eyes a minute, absorbing the warring and confusing sensations in my body. The mattress shifts. He’s lying
spooned behind me. I feel bare legs against mine. He’s shucked his clothes. I sigh and lean back into him, pressing my still-sore arse against his glorious erection.

This is what I need! He slips into me sideways and lies still. His cock pressed deep in my cunt. Filling me. His warm belly against my burning arse. His hand cups my breast, as his fingers brush
my nipple and I feel it down to my cunt. I thought I was aroused before. Now I’m about to go into orbit. I shift, pressing him deeper into me. He starts moving, gently as if aware how sore I
still am. But the pain fades into the background as my arousal builds and peaks.

I’m whimpering with pleasure, groaning with need. His hand eases down my belly and plays my bush, parting my pussy lips. I rock again, pressing his wonderful finger against my clit.
He’s in me, around me, touching the very heat of my need, and as gentle circles of his fingertip pull me higher, I close my eyes and give myself over to sensation. Another groan echoes in my
ears, and another and, with a scream, I come in a mind-numbing climax that goes on and on and on . . .

I’m a sweaty, useless heap of satisfied woman.

My heart resumes normal pace, my breathing slows, I turn to him, careful to rest on my hip as my ass still hurts but the pain is fading to a warm glow.

“That was incredible,” I manage between gasps.

He smirks, like a man who knows he’s done a damn fine job. “I knew what you needed, didn’t I?”

I’m too tired, too weak, and too fulfilled to argue. I smile back and snuggle to sleep in his arms.

I’ll save the argument for another day . . . When I’m ready for a repeat performance.

Janet (St Paul, USA)

I hadn’t always wondered what it would be like to be with another girl. No sir, I thought I was a straight arrow, got me a boyfriend and everything. And it’s not
like there were a lot of dykes hanging out at McKinney’s. That’s the bar where I used to work, waitressing or bartending, depending on the night, to put myself through school. I got
nothing against dykes, mind you. I just never gave a lot of thought to them one way or the other.

Not that I had much inspiration, at least not until I got a look at the couple that started coming in every Thursday night. But those two, the brunette and her buddy, something about them was
enough to make me reconsider. I mean it wasn’t like they were the prettiest girls at the bar or anything so I really don’t know what the deal was. But I watched them plenty to try and
figure it out, let me tell you. The brunette was big and curvy, with a kind of pretty face and really long brown hair. Her buddy was nothing special to look at. She had sort of shaggy blonde hair
and glasses, the expensive wire-rim kind. She always wore pants and looked like she worked out or something.

I don’t know how I figured out they were together that way. I mean they could have been just pals, you know? But there was something in the way they looked at each other, the way that they
would touch sometimes, just a little. But enough to make me think about what was going on the rest of the time.

I liked to watch the blonde’s hands. They were big hands for a woman, all long fingers with short nails. She had this way of moving them around when she talked, like they were an extra
mouth or something, backing up everything she said. After a while I started to wonder what they would feel like inside me. Scared the crap out of me the first time it happened. That was when I knew
something was up, and it didn’t much matter if it was Johnny or not.

Johnny’s the boyfriend I was talking about before, only now he’s my fiance. He’s got fantasies of his own, especially that girl-on-girl stuff. Yeah, he really likes that. Every
once in a while he’ll show up at my place with a couple of videos. There’s always one of those in the stack. Guess he figures if I watch enough porn, I’d break down and bring one
of my girlfriends over and put on a show for him. Fat chance. I mean he always denies it but I know how hot he gets after he watches them. One night I even gave him a lap dance and I am still not
sure if it was me or the plastic babes on the tube that got him off.

So when it came to the whole girl-on-girl thing, I guess I just figured that those kind of girls were the only option. You know how it is, they look fake and they act fake so there was nothing
about watching them that really grabbed me. Plus, no way was I letting somebody with nails that long put them inside me, even if it was just in my imagination. Gives me the shivers just thinking
about it.

These two weren’t like that, or at least they didn’t look that way to me. The brunette now, she did have kind of long red nails, the kind that came out of a shop where they did them
up right, not scary long. They looked nice when she touched the blonde’s arm with them. She did that a lot, just resting her hand near the other one’s arm, then moving over to grab it
or brush against her hand or whatever. Then she’d kind of pull back, play with her hair a little and just give her girlfriend this smile that said there was a lot more going on than met the
eye at McKinney’s.

At first, they freaked me out. I mean, what could two women really do in bed? I knew about dildos and stuff from all those videos that Johnny showed me but it just didn’t seem like they
could substitute for the real thing. Besides in the movies, a guy always showed up so that took care of wanting something other than plastic inside you. A guy always shows up in the kind of videos
Johnny likes. What a surprise.

But I was worried about other stuff too. What if they decided to hit on me? How would I handle it? It wouldn’t be like the guys doing it; I was used to laughing that off. I didn’t
even want to go into the ladies room when one of them was in there, not at first anyway. What if they went after me? They might be more persistent than the guys, might not take no for an answer.
The thought got me a little hot even when it scared me most, I gotta admit.

I started watching them every chance I got, especially on slow Thursdays, just to see what they’d do. I mean I was kinda sly about it, wiping down tables, watching the TV over their heads
and that kind of thing, not standing there with my mouth open like some yahoo. I didn’t want to drive them off, not even when they scared me. But I started hoping that I could see them kiss,
maybe watch the blonde slip her hand under the brunette’s skirt and feel her up. We get plenty of that with straight couples so, I figured, why not with them too?

I started thinking about what the brunette’s boobs would feel like in my hand, maybe with the nipples getting harder when I squeezed. I tried to imagine sucking on them, taking as much as
I could into my mouth. In my head, I could see her head thrown back, her eyes closed when I did it, just like I imagined they would be with the blonde. Then I got grossed out and I stopped watching
them for a while.

But my gross outs didn’t last long. Soon, I started picturing them watching when I was with Johnny. Maybe they’d be naked, maybe kissing. Sometimes I pretend that Johnny was doing me
while we watch them. The blonde is always going down on her girl then, sticking her hand up inside her while her tongue got busy. Johnny usually didn’t want to do that so I got off imagining
the brunette’s face, picturing how I’d feel if it was me. But I didn’t imagine one of them going down on me, not back then. That took a while.