Teased, Tormented & Tanned

As Michael instructed, Amelia wore nothing underneath her long skirt. It tickled her thighs and the white mounds of her rear, and her pretty pussy in front. He wanted it to remind her of what was to come. He wanted her to be prepared for his hand slapping her white flesh, making red raw imprints that would leave her warm for hours. The thought of him raising his hand on behind her, and bringing it down on her ass with stinging force, ignited her body, creating delicious decadent thoughts that swam through her head all day long.

She was shopping at Macy’s. Along with her long skirt dangling around her nakedness, she was wearing 3 1/2” pumps and a tight top that clung to her full breasts showing the line of her nipples rising hard beneath the smooth surface of the fabric. He liked her to dress this way, going about her life—her shopping trips, her work, everywhere—with little secrets buried beneath her skirts, and in her thoughts.

He always wanted her to be thinking about him, her waking life filled with images of their moments together. He kept her off guard, using the element of surprise as a tool to keep her mind vigilant, waiting and wondering when their romantic evenings, or playful afternoons would turn fiery, when he would hold her on his lap and his powerful hand would come down on her bottom with rapid, stinging smacks.

She stood at the perfume counter, testing fragrances. She liked wearing perfume on her thighs, and discreetly pulling up her skirt, she sprayed a little there. It was something Michael would appreciate.

Moving on to the lingerie department, her hands played with the delicate lace of the hanging garter belts. He wanted her to buy a black one, though she preferred the ones in pink and white. Taking the black one from the rack, she slipped behind the curtain where she found a private dressing room.

Lifting her skirt, she gazed at her nakedness peering back to her from the mirror. Then loosening her belt she let the skirt drop to the floor. It was easier to see the whole picture this way.

Removing the garter belt from the hanger, she fastened it about her waist. Earlier in the morning, she’d bought a pair of sheer nylon stockings. Removing them from their package, she carefully put them on, securing them in place.

She stood back to look. It was a provocative sight. Turning around, she looked again. That too was arousing. He’d like her ass framed this way, the creamy white contrasted by the black. She imagined what it would look like when he was finished, rudely red and flaming, nearly purple in some places. Her body rushed delightedly. She wanted to reach between her legs and play. But he’d disapprove. He wanted all her attentions on him.

Outside on the street, her bags in hand, Amelia rushed to where he was waiting, wondering if it would happen this time, the spanking. He had a way of torturing her with insinuations and innuendo, implying, suggesting, teasing; it was a fine torment. She loved every minute of it, and he knew that. It made it all the more exquisite.

She hailed a cab to take her to the financial district. As she climbed inside, she thought the driver might have seen her not so hidden treasures, the wind whipping back her skirt at just the wrong moment—maybe it was the right moment? He eyed her in the rear view mirror as she adjusted herself in the seat, allowing her skirt to fall open enough, so her long legs showed. Feeling particularly wanton, she sat with her bare ass on the seat as Michael had suggested. Everything made her body rush with erotic heat.

The driver stopped at her destination, and quickly paying him, she dashed up the steps and inside the great glass doors. The elevator was at the end of the hall. Looking at the time, she knew she was nearly late and he wouldn’t be happy if she was. Stepping inside the behemoth elevator, her heart was pounding rapidly.

She knew it would be today, it had to be! All his instructions had prepared her for it. She would cry if he’d make her go through such gyrations and let her down, ignoring her need one more time. No, he just wouldn’t do that, not this time, she assured herself. Just one more thing to do before she presented herself. She hurried off the elevator, toward the nearest restroom.

The pink tile bathroom glowed with a vacant sterile light. She wanted to dress before the mirror as she’d done in the dressing room, but someone else entered as she was about to get ready, so she slipped inside a vacant stall. Pulling out her new garter belt and stockings, she dressed rapidly, wondering what Michael would think seeing her loins encased in black and her bottom ready for his waiting hand. But she could only take a moment to ponder the delicious thought. She didn’t want to waste anymore time.

Once ready, she made her way through the busy office toward his private one, watching the women typing, copying, standing, talking, all in their own worlds, she in hers. Had these women any clue to their boss’s secret life? Could they even imagine what went on inside his office walls?

In his outer office, his secretary was busily typing. She stared at the enormous mahogany doors that barricaded him from everyone else.

“I’m told it’s soundproof,” he had said quite deliberately, looking into to her reluctant eyes that first time.

She hoped it was. Despite his demand for her silence, and her attempts to comply, in some more flimsy office her escaping gasps and cries would undoubtedly be heard.

“I’m here to see Mr. Benedick, I’m Amelia Carroll,” she informed the blond woman sitting demurely at the typing desk.

“I’ll buzz him,” she answered. “A Miss Carroll to see you,” she told the voice on the other end—this was a different secretary this time, not the regular one that knew her. “Go right on in,” the woman said.

Amelia’s heart had not stopped pounding, the flesh of her bottom already burned, thinking of what thrill lay beyond. She was certain, very certain that he’d spank her now. There would be no more waiting, no more teasing.

“Have you done everything I asked you?” Michael queried as she stood before his massive rosewood desk. It was cleared of nearly everything, except a few well placed items to one side, a clock, a pen set and the telephone. Had he cleared it for her? Her knees were trembling.

“Yes,” she replied.

“Your bottom bare and ready?” he inquired. Michael’s face was stern, the well defined features cut a little coldly on his handsome face. Some would have called him aristocratic, the way he held his head, the way his jaw was tightly set, the deliberate way he moved.

“It is,” she answered, wondering how he’d begin. The time before, he’d taken her across his lap. But since he thrived on variety, she figured it would be different this time.

“That’s good,” he replied with a half smile, “Have you had lunch?”

Lunch? She could hardly think of eating now. “I’m not hungry,” she said. But that didn’t deter him.

“Well, I am,” he countered. “We’ll go to the restaurant on the twentieth floor.” He rose from his desk, and as they walked out the door, he gentlemanly placed his hand at the small of her back. Crossing through the crowded office they made their way to the elevator. It wasn’t unusual to be seen together. She’d been here often since their relationship began six months before. But he was always a gentleman with her in public, always polite, always the picture of perfect decorum.

In the restaurant, they sat across from each other at a small secluded table. “Are you sitting on your bare bottom?” he asked.

She was surprised she’d forgotten his request. After spending the day complying with this command, at the moment, she was sitting on her skirt. “I’m sorry, no,” she answered, as she quickly repositioned herself so her tender flesh was naked against the seat of the leather chair. She could feel the coolness against her skin.

He ordered for them both, something light, though she could hardly eat.

“You can feel it, can’t you?” he taunted. He could tell right off how aroused she’d become. The more he teased, the greater both their pleasure, for they thrilled to that fine edge where going too far would make the ending anticlimactic, but going just far enough made it a choice moment indeed, with both their desires soaring.

As she gazed at his clear cut features, she could see no wrinkle is his cool exterior, nothing to give away the passion he might be feeling inside, the passion that he’d undoubtedly apply to her lusty rear end. His cool made him all the more stern and foreboding. She relished the distance, the mystery he brought to their times together; he had fulfilled her needs in ways that no other man could even conceive—even ones who might beat her ass brutally at her request. With him it was different, erotic, arousing, compelling, not simply for the instant, but something that lived in her fantasies before and after the event, something haunting that she couldn’t shake off even if she tried.

She watched his face. It didn’t change. “I’m burning inside,” she answered him. She’d wanted to try some flippant remark like, “You know that!” or “Can’t you see!,” but she held back instead. In six months, she’d learned not to toy with her words, or say too much or appear too sassy—not that he would spank her longer or harder—which she might really want—but that he might make her wait even longer. He looked mildly amused.

“Sometime, Amelia, I’d like to spank you in front of another person.” He had a devious gleam in his eye. “I’d like to see you blush with embarrassment.”

She blushed that instant, the scene he just described coming clearly to mind.

“We have some secretaries in the office who should see just how nasty I can be. Oh, but that would be too common,” he shook his head. “I need to find someone that would really haunt you.”

She looked at him and gulped. There seemed to be no end to the nasty ideas that popped into his brain. It had begun as just a fluke, a first date and then a second, and then a slip of tongue about bare bottom swats to her perky rear end. He had her over his lap on the third date, eagerly swatting her jaunty ass, as she jiggled and rushed with ecstatic energy. Never had any man “touched” her quite the way he had. She’d cried and protested, wailed and wriggled to get away, “What the hell are you doing! Stop! Ouch! Ow!” The repeated blows didn’t hurt, her clothes protecting her from the worst; it was the indignity of it all. He’d manufactured some excuse that she “needed” it. She’d been childish on their date, almost as if she was asking for it... but to actually do it!

For a dozen days afterward, it was all she could think of … his powerful arms, his firm unyielding lap, the swift force of his hand, the mild stinging blows to her rear, and the warm sensations afterward.

Little did he know how quickly he’d cemented their relationship, for he’d added that missing dimension, the little piece of heaven that she’d only experienced in her head with phantom lovers. He was real, and being real was more enticing than any fanny.

In the months that followed, there were many more sassy spankings. As often as she thought he’d forgotten—and she got a little bitchy or petulant or whining, just to tick him off—he never did forget. They saw each other several times a week, for dinner, the movies, sailing, swimming, lots of typical dates, and making love. And about every two weeks, almost like clockwork, she’d find a restless energy building inside her. Reading her mood, her body language and her off-hand comments with perfect understanding, he would give her the spanking she craved. But he never spanked her on her terms; it was his to control.

Once, while they were on board his boat, sailing about on a clear summer day, he anchored the vessel in a secluded cove and called her from her sunbathing; she was wearing only her two piece suit.

Sitting in a deck chair at one end of the boat, he demanded her “front and center”.

“What,” she answered him sleepily, her head just barely rising from her blanket where she was stretched out at the bow of the boat.

“Amelia, now.” He didn’t raise his voice. He didn’t have to.

Realizing what he intended, she pulled herself up quickly, unaware that the top of her bathing suit was unfastened. He didn’t like to wait. She felt a rush inside, that uncommon flood of excitement pouring though her. But this time in what seemed a “public” place she was all the more aroused, and definitely a little more frightened than usual. Here in broad daylight, just the possibility of being seen taking her punishment... and naked too!

She gazed around warily, noting that the cove was still deserted except for their craft. Being a weekday afternoon, there was little likelihood that anyone else might maneuver into their private scene.

“Don’t worry yourself, Amelia, there’s no one to see.”

She gulped, facing him, her eyes automatically lowered coyly. He seemed to be enjoying her surprise and shyness. Appreciating her beautiful body, her bare breasts and pert pink nipples, he wasn’t about to commence too quickly.

“I thought this would be the perfect place to teach you a few manners. You’ve been awfully bitchy all day.”

He was right. “I’m sorry,” she said a little meekly.

“Bend over,” he ordered. And, as she had done before, she bent over his lap, his strong arm guiding her, making certain that she didn’t back away. He wasted no time, removing her last little garment, her swim suit bottom. This was the first time he’d spanked her when she was completely naked and that in itself was exhilarating. The first crack on her bottom was hard.

“Ouch!”

“Quiet,” he suggested, “or you just might attract a crowd you don’t want, and I won’t stop if you do!”

The second and the third, and a dozen blows followed. She could feel the warmth rising all about her. She could feel him rising too, there beneath, inside his pants.

Squirming and wiggling as she always did, she continued to protest, though this time with less volume, deathly afraid that her cries might be heard by a passing boat, and she’d have an audience to witness her embarrassment. Before long, however, as his slaps continued to rain down on her behind, she forgot about where she was, letting the joy of the sensations flood her with wonderful delight. Before long, Michael was kneading, not spanking her bottom, his hands squeezing her sore mounds.

He soon turned her over and nearly naked himself in just his swim trunks, they were furiously locked together. They slumped to the floor of the boat, and spent the next hour making love, as the sun set around them. A slap or two on her red behind, occasionally rendered, jolted those spanking sensations back to life.

This was no doubt one of their finer moments, such inspiration. Michael was a wonder!

Now, in the restaurant, staring into eyes that could be so cold and so hot at the same time, she recoiled at the idea of an audience. But he looked serious about it, and she figured that it wouldn’t be long before he’d live up to his threat. “Eat your meal,” he suggested.

“I’m not hungry,” she answered.

“Suit yourself,” he answered, diving into his own with easygoing relish. Of course! He had nothing to dread, nothing to worry over, he had everything all planned. He almost seemed amused by her nervousness. She couldn’t remember waiting so long to feel his hand on her rear, once it was clear what his intentions were. He’d played with her, toyed with her, teased her mercilessly, but this... this was more than she could imagine.

When the lunch was finally finished, they entered the elevator once again, stopped on the seventeenth floor and made their way through his busy office.

“I should have you working here,” he whispered in her ear, “so I can keep an eye on you.”

They were passing a desk were four busy women were pouring over some spreadsheets. They looked up curiously at their boss and his friend.

Inside his private office again, he unceremoniously pulled the armless chair from the side of the room, but instead of sitting down, he then moved to his desk. Reaching inside one of the bottom drawers, he pulled something out.

She gasped.

“I found this at a little shop a few blocks from here, they have some wonderfully conceived leather. Don’t you think?”

She looked at his hand in horror, gazing at a narrow paddle. She’d talked to him of leather, wondering what sensations it would produce in her different than his hand. Not that she didn’t thoroughly enjoy the feel of his hand, but there was something sumptuous about the feel of leather and the thought of it applied to her rear. She’d always thought someday he’d simply remove his belt and whack her a few with that. But this! It was at least eighteen inches long, two inches wide and stiff enough not to droop in his hand the way a belt or strap might. It had obviously been designed for one thing, and one thing only, to be laid across the rear of some submissive lady.

“Do you like it?” he asked, watching her carefully, his eyes taking in every little twitch, every expression on her shocked face, and every bit of surging energy pounding through her already aroused form. He liked gazing at her with tension mounting, part of the luscious tease.

“It’s, it’s… startling,” she stammered.

“It is, isn’t it?” He always planned his little surprises for her very carefully, to maximize the moment.

“I was imagining when I bought it how lovely it would be to lay this across your posterior, to see it redden those delicious mounds of yours. I suspect it will give you sensations you haven’t had before.” A lock of his neatly styled hair had fallen to his forehead, as if he’d already begun her trial. His dark set eyes peered out in mock inquisitiveness and held her frozen before him. She yearned for him to take her, sweep her into his arms. She yearned for kisses and tenderness, but not until this instrument had been well laid on her bottom, not until she was in tears and panting, and crying out for mercy, ready for sex.

Moving to the chair, Michael sat down.

“Turn around and pull up your skirt,” he instructed.

She obliged, for the moment the little gesture was a welcome relief.

“Ah, the garter belt and stockings frame my target nicely,” he said, and without further adieu he pulled her to him and forced her over his lap, her naked rear perfectly centered. She pictured him gazing at her white flesh, imagining how his blows would turn her skin from pink to blushing, red, to a deep purple.

He allowed the paddle to rest on her quaking cheeks. It was surprisingly cool. She could smell the earthy leather fragrance. It seemed an eternity waiting, her body pulsing with anticipation, fear and wonder, trying to figure how much this spanking would hurt, and how long it would hurt thereafter.

Smack! The first blow came down.

“Ah, nooooo!” she squealed, the sting was different than the sting of his hand, the pain was worse.

Again and again he worked the leather over her bottom.

Her mind was reeling with a thousand feelings and thoughts. It was the same as his hand, but not the same. It was deeper, more intense, less personal, but thrilling nonetheless. Soon, she could think of nothing but the profound sensations of his repeated blows.

She moaned deeply, squelching her cries for fear of being heard. Her bottom burned, and where he’d already struck once or twice, it was becoming more and more painful, yet the pain was priceless… she rocked on his lap, then writhed on him in a mix of glee and hurt, that without thinking brought tears and whimpers. This was everything she needed it to be. And so engaged in her own glorious torment, she was only barely aware of Michael’s arousal beneath her bouncing body.

“Oh, oh, please,” she gasped into the unrelenting air.

The blows came down, her flesh bounced, her cheeks flamed with red. From top to bottom, from side to side, he gave her the complete treatment, not one inch of her fair bottom would go ignored.

Her ass was searing hot, and though it seemed he’d never stop, he did.

Abruptly. His warm hand replaced the leather, not with more punishment, but with tender welcome massage. Eager, her sex aroused and wet, she waited for him to finger her between her legs, for his gentle hands to heighten what was all ready clamoring inside her. But before she could catch her breath, he pulled her to her feet, rising himself as he did. She watched amazed, as he replaced the chair, ran his hand through his mussed hair, and sat down at his desk.

Her skirt still half raised, she was hardly recovered.

“You look so beautiful, Amelia, you always do afterwards,” he said softly, with a look of affection crossing his face. “You need this to keep you peaceful.” He allowed her silence, knowing that there was really nothing to say, the sensations still traveling through her were rich and brilliant.

“I’d love to see you standing in the corner for an hour or two showing off your lovely bottom, but alas, I do have work. And don’t you have an appointment?”

Yes, of course, she thought to herself. How can he return to the real world so quickly? Where’s the fine ending where they make love? Where all this aroused and crazy energy can be put to some use, where she can wrap herself around him, and with him inside her they come to some fine finale?

“I know, you’re thinking we’re not finished, but for now you’ll just have to endure until I see you this evening. I’ll be at your apartment at eight for a little refresher. Now, I suggest you get yourself together, we both have work.

He was very kind, but it was obvious that her session with Michael was over. His denial of any further “fun” that afternoon annoyed her. Though she wanted him all the more, she resigned herself to waiting, knowing that in the end, he’d cool her well flamed sexual fires.

After all, his sweet mastery over her was the very best thing that had ever happened.

He came to her at eight that night. She still felt the soreness of her bottom—that delighted her. She loved the lingering sensations, the tightness, the little bruises when she looked in the mirror. It reminded her all day long of their relationship, and the terrific tension that made it wild with passion.

He kissed her at the door, her body shivering head to toe. He unbuttoned her blouse in the kitchen, and left it lying on the floor. At the doorway of her bedroom, he lowered her skirt and squeezed her tender rear.

Smack! A hand came down on her bottom with a determined slap.

“Ow,” she protested. “Again?”

Amelia looked at his devious smile, as his mouth and tongue descended on her lips and mouth. His hands continued to squeeze her bottom, giving her an occasional slap.

“Ohhh!” Her hips moved against his, and she could feel his erection growing. Every time he squeezed a cheek, she exploded with lightening energy. She reached below and stroked his hard cock, still covered by his pants. Rapidly undoing his belt and zipper, she pushed his pants to the floor and began playing eagerly with his stiff penis. She wanted it between her thighs, and could hardly wait for that inevitable jolt when he entered her.

Falling back on the bed, Michael pulled her on top of him and slipped himself inside her warm, moist puss. She danced on top of him, with her hips and thighs grinding against him as his hands roughly kneaded the round globes of her ass.

Smack!

He delighted in reminding her of their earlier session with the leather, though this time it was for their mutual pleasure as he felt her body surge with a delicious jolt of heat each time his hand hit the mark.

“Ooo, Ohh, Ahhh.” She was building to something special, all the teasing, all the play, all the holding back was suddenly erupting into her loins. She lost herself in the splendid sensations and her cum began, rippling from her pussy to her thighs, to her stomach and over every little pore of her inflamed body.

His orgasm quickly followed with hard penetrating thrusts, and a guttural cry that must have gone far beyond the room. Locked together in a glorious wave, they churned on each other until the sensations died away and they were left with their sweating bodies collapsed and spent. Such lusty madness, such bliss!

Finished, they lay back together in bed, the moonlight streaming across the rumpled sheets. His hand played with her hair, while hers stroked his mellow manliness beneath the sheets.

“You know, I punish you for pleasure, Amelia,” he said.

“I know, and that pleases me,” she replied, wondering what was in his thoughts.

But he was silent for a moment, as if he were trying to decide exactly what to say.

“You realize, Amelia, I’d punish you for discipline if that was needed.”

“Oh!” What did he mean? He kissed her on the cheek.

“I expect trust. I demand it,” he explained. “I expect honesty, that I can take you at your word.”

“I see no reason not to,” she answered, she’d never thought of being anything but straight with him.

“That’s good, but if you should find yourself holding back, and I find out?” He’d turned to look at her sternly. “You’ll pay a price.”

A strange sensation rose in her, one she’d never had before. It was a new demand on her that he wouldn’t let her compromise their relationship with lies. That felt good, though she wondered why he mentioned it now.

“I suppose if I lied to you, I’d deserve it,” she offered, “though I can’t imagine why I ever would.”

“I can’t either,” he added. “Let’s just hope it never happens.”

“But if it did?” she asked, curiously.

“You’d surely regret it.”

“Regret a spanking? Honestly, Michael, I haven’t regretted one yet.”

“I know,” he nearly snickered, she could see the little twitch in his expression. “But you deceive me,” he warned her with a solemn look, “and you’ll regret it, that’s a promise.”

They lay together for only a few minutes longer when Michael pulled away. And much to her dismay, he rose from the bed and began to dress.

“Where are you going?” she asked, she wanted nothing more than to fall asleep in his arms.

“Home,” he answered.

“I’d hoped you’d stay tonight,” she replied.

“I’m old fashioned,” he reminded her. Indeed he was, he had yet to spend the night with her. The old fashioned practice of leaving before dawn made certain there remained just a space of mystery and doubt between them, that would only be bridged with greater commitment.

He pecked her gently on the forehead as he left.

Watching him go each night after such fulfilling sex left her empty. She wondered what it would take to make things more permanent between them. She may be getting further under his skin, but for her needs, she was not yet far enough.