A Literary Spanking
An unfriendly little wager about Hemingway goes badly for one of the wagerers:
Helen’s face was bright red as she reluctantly lay over my lap. “Comfortable?” I asked sarcastically, my hand resting on her bottom. A gasp escaped her as I jerked her skirt up and folded it back over her waist. A small triumphant feeling ran through me as I examined her plump bottom in white cotton panties with stockings. “Stockings without a garter belt?” I mocked, and she shuddered as my hand gently caressed her thighs. “How thoroughly modern of you, Helen, is it the Paris influence?”
“What if my aunt comes down?” she croaked, ignoring my jibe.
“Then it will be very embarrassing for you. Lift up,” I instructed and hooked my fingers in the top of her underwear.
“What are you doing?” Helen shrieked.
“A spanking is not acceptable on underwear, my dear,” I laughed, “it must be received on bare skin, it’s the done thing. Lift up so I can pull down those frightful panties.”
“Catherine,” she moaned in a small protest and I gave her bottom a small slap.
“Up!” The panties came down and I smiled down at her plump white bottom. The first slap caught her by surprise and Helen shrieked. She kicked her feet a little with the second and third slap, her bottom wobbling slightly with the exertion and I admired the red marks my hand had left.
Helen was moaning slightly with the fourth, fifth and sixth slaps, the noise of my palm connecting with her skin loud in the room. Her legs kicked through the seventh and eighth slaps, her breathing loud and ragged and I slowly caressed her burning bottom with my hand.
“I think you’re enjoying this,” I murmured, my hand making little circles on her bare skin. “I think you enjoy being over my knee, your skirt up and panties down. Don’t you?” I demanded in a louder voice, my hand smacking down for the ninth time.
“Yes,” she moaned in a guttural tone, her eyes clenched shut in anticipation of the tenth slap. It was the hardest so far; my hand stung and the noise cracked through the room as Helen stiffened, moaning loudly. In quick succession, I spanked her another five times as she writhed on my lap, small tears rolling down her cheeks as she moaned.
I could smell her arousal; a deep musky perfume hung over us as my finger easily slipped inside her…
From The Hemingway Dialogue by Natalie Nessus.
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