Sunday, 16 February 2014

Spanking Story: Guy All The Bad Girls Want

Part One.

Okay, listen up. Here’s the deal. No introductions, preview, prelude or whatever. No setup, no plot mechanics and definitely no explanations. Nope, none of that crap. Cut to the chase. In at the deep end. It’s either sink or swim.

If the reason your reading this isn’t the same as the reason I’m writing this then you’re in the wrong place, at the wrong time and thinking the wrong things.

For those of you in the right place, at the right time and thinking about the right things, take a deep breath and come join me in my personal hell...


My apartment and deja vous was ringing alarm bells.

“You must be bloody joking!!” she blurted out as she jerked away from me like she’d had an electric shock or something. “If you think I’m going to let you do that to me you’ve got another thing coming!!” The element of surprise in her deep blue gaze was quickly replaced by a look of disdained disgust as what had been an intimate moment between us had evaporated in the blink of a wide eye spectacularly.

She jumped up, grabbed her coat and headed for the door. Before she left, as I sat there like I had done a few times before feeling a mixture of helpless, embarrassed and frustrated, she turned with a final flourish. “You want to get that seen to, you.. you pathetic disgusting filthy pervert!!” With that she was gone and I could imagine the whole apartment block reverberating from the door slam.

Resigned, I got to my feet and went to pour myself a double brandy which I downed ruefully in one. Same as it ever was. Sighing, I poured another and went to the window, looking down from the fifth floor as life went on serenely outside oblivious to my suffering. “I guess that’s a no then?”


Fate, as they say, moves in mysterious ways.

It was a week or so later that I found myself wheezing my way up to the seventh floor of a non descript building wondering if I was certifiably insane or a sucker for ritual humiliation on a regular basis. I stopped and looked at the advert I had cut from the weekend ad section in the local newspaper. I frowned as I looked around at the dim dank brown pre-metropolis décor of the hallway lit only from the dull glow of a single baleful lightbulb. Where was number 82A?

An old lady appeared suddenly at the top of the stairwell looking at me warily as she clutched her bag tighter to her chest.

“Number 82A?” I asked, trying to sound friendly and none threatening.

Her demeanour changed in an instant as she tapped me on the arm and pointed along the long dark corridor. “That way dearie.” she smiled. Then to my complete surprise she winked. “I hope you like redheads.”

I stood there listening to her laughter as she made her way down the stairs until she disappeared into the surrounding shadows.



Hesitating slightly, I gently rapped on the door of number 82A a couple of times noticing the small “fish eye” lens blink for a moment before the door clicked slightly ajar to reveal an attractive middle aged woman who just happened to have a head full of curly red hair. I couldn’t help myself smiling as she said “Yes, can I help you?”

“Ah,” I began, feeling suddenly awkward. “I’m ah er looking for a lady called Madeline Foster.” I held up the advert for her to see. “Number 82A. 2pm.”

She glanced at the advert then back to me. “Are you Mr Jackson?” she asked, visibly relaxing as she seemed to realise who the stranger knocking on her door was. I recognised her voice as the one I spoke with yesterday about the small ad in the paper.

I nodded. “That’s me.”

“Do you have some ID I can see?” she said, still not opening the door. “It’s just a precaution. We only want to help those that need help. We certainly don’t want any trouble-makers or time wasters here as I’m sure you understand Mr Jackson.”

“Yes, of course. Always pays to take precautions.” I nodded as I reached into the inside pocket of my black overcoat. “Here’s my passport and drivers licence. “ I said showing her my photo on both documents. “They must have caught me on a bad day when they took those.” I smiled, trying to hide my nervousness which was making my heart thud alarmingly loud in my chest.

The lady glanced from my photo back to me then back again to make sure. Satisfied, she stepped back and opened the door. “Hi, I’m Madeline. I spoke to you on the phone. Come in please Mr Jackson. We’ve been waiting to meet you all day.”

“We?” I thought as my brow furrowed. I entered the apartment into a small hallway where she took my overcoat and hung it on a peg next to a few others – all women’s by the looks of them. Mrs Foster then took my hand and led me into what appeared to be the sitting room where to my bemused surprise sat four other women drinking cups of coffee or tea from white china cups. “Everyone,” announced Mrs Foster, breaking into the conversations the other women were having amongst themselves. “I’d like to introduce you to Mr Jackson.” She turned to me. “May we call you Sam?”

“Ah sure. Of course.” I muttered feeling their interested gazes on me.

Madeline patted my arm. “Sam,” she continued as I felt her give me a gentle squeeze. “Replied to our little advert in the weekend’s newspaper. I’m sure you’ll all give him a warm welcome to our little get together and help him overcome any problems or issues he has about..” she paused as her eyebrows raised slightly. “..things.”

So it was at that point I found myself being warmly introduced to Holly, Ruth, Doris and Megan. All who, incidentally, turned out to be redheads of varying shades.


We were all sat in a rough semi-circle with Megan, Ruth and Doris side by side on the flower patterned sofa with myself, Holly and Madeline on matching chairs. For the past 15 minutes or so we’d made small talk to ease the slightly awkward atmosphere. I know I certainly felt uncomfortable at being there – especially for the reason why. After a bit of coaxing I had moved on from the monosyllabic to something approaching intelligent conversation and I was grateful they were making the effort to put me at my ease. They’d discovered I was 38, single, un-attached and in a decent career with promising prospects on the horizon. They learnt I was a keen cook, bore a positive outlook despite the obvious setbacks in my love life, had an appreciation for the interstellar and was an ardent admirer of Laurel and Hardy. That was me.

Madeline was 50 – to my amazement. Tall, but not too tall, really shapely in a slightly over weight fashion she also had a serene manner and a sexy laugh that made my toes curl. She worked in one of the more fashionable upper class stores up state and was a cosmetics connoisseur and an expert on all things fragrant. Of the five women there, I’d say she was the one who made things go tick.

Holly was from the east side and she was as sassy as that meant. She was 40-ish and had a shock of red hair that hung loose and curly like some nebula exploding. Freckle faced, she was the one who I’d have to keep an eye on I mused – in one of the infinite possible futures our get-together would maybe create.

Ruth was outstanding. A real Ann Margaret corker. A veritable flame haired stunner. “I’m 40 this year and I don’t care who knows it. I get better with age and figure that life is meant to be experienced not admired.” She’d be saying the same thing at 50, 60 and beyond I imagined with a smile as she crossed one long slim leg over the over. She also had a gleam in her eye whenever our glances met. This one knows a thing or two I knew. To compliment her shoulder length bobbed hairstyle she was dressed in a black blouse, black skirt and black stockings and high heeled shoes. Aye, she’d teach me a thing or three no doubt if given half the chance.

Doris was the youngest at 23. Not so much shy but bashful in a watchful way. When our eyes met they held for a moment before they drifted away with a smile. I learned she worked in some sky high scraper in legalese and knew her onions. A lovely budding figure that was meant to be explored and devoted upon. A quality peach to be tasted and savoured with relish. She looked good enough to eat.

Last, but not least, was Megan. The only one still married but not for long by accounts. When I said my condolences she responded with a wave of her slim hand saying that she was glad she had discovered who she really was as a person and realised she wanted more from her life than a housewives drudge. She had been married 3 years and 4 months. She was 29. I felt sorry for her husband for the fool didn’t know what he had lost.

So that was our little group.

It was after these preliminaries that Madeline raised her hand and said “I think it’s time for Sam to tell us the reason why he’s here and to see if we can help him in anyway.” They all turned expectantly to me and waited.

I’m sure each and every one could hear the “gulp” from where they sat.


Where the hell to start?

Where does one with a guilty secret even begin to say out loud those things which they have gone over and over and over countless times in their head before? How do you explain the unexplainable?

More over, how does one say such things to those whom you dream of doing those exact same things too in the first place?

I sat red faced feeling as if I wanted the ground to open up and swallow me whole. What on earth was I doing putting myself through this personal ordeal? I must have been out of my mind. Or truly, fatefully desperate.

Sensing my discomfort, Madeline reached over and gave me a slip of paper. On it was a single sentence written neatly in a feminine hand in blue ink. “I know how difficult it is Sam to say what one feels. It was the same for us all when we got together a year or so back to form this group. This will help. I promise. Saying it makes it easier. Go on. You can do it.”

I swallowed hard and looked from the slip of paper to each of them in turn. They all nodded and smiled. I took a deep breath and said out loud;

“My name is Sam Jackson – and I’m a spankoholic.”


Part Two.

“A spankoholic huh..” said Ruth in a tone that made me feel like I was a kid again caught with my hand in the cookie jar. “You pervert.”

Madeline shushed her friend “Ignore her Sam. She can talk, she’s more of a one than the rest of us put together!” she exclaimed as Ruth threw a cushion at her which Madeline grabbed and threw back telling her to behave. It was obvious that they were good friends.

“You damn me with faint praise Maddie.” she playfully scolded the older woman. “I’m sure Sam can handle a bad girl like me anytime.” She looked directly at me and I turned even redder as the others laughed at her antics as I wondered what exactly she was more a one of than the rest of them.

Doris took a sip of tea “So how long have you been a spankoholic then Sam?” she asked out of interest. “Or maybe that should be - how long have you known?”

I shifted in my seat feeling the hairs prickling on my neck. Sure as hell wasn’t easy putting into words only the things you’ve kept buried deep inside for what felt like forever but wasn’t. They were all looking expectantly at me. “Ah uhhhhh,” I began, hesitating as I tried to express myself with some sort of understandable logic. “Since I was in middle school I guess. Twelve. Yeah, about twelve.”

Holly nodded. “About the same time for me too. I got into trouble in school one day and I got sent to the Principle who gave me six on my butt with this huge gym shoe. Boy, did that thing smart!” she grinned. “But afterwards all I could think about was how do I get whupped with it again as soon as possible?!”

I stared wide eyed at her for she looked like butter wouldn’t melt in her mouth and was the last person on earth who would be interested in such things. I was also at that time wondering just where all this was going to lead. One thing was for sure, they didn’t seem in the least bit inhibited by speaking so openly about – this topic. As ever, when I thought about it I could feel that powerful surge through my whole system that left me feeling completely charged up and on edge. I continued on for they had all turned to me again. “Well, uh, for me it was something I overheard. A conversation between two senior teachers.”

“Wow, really?” gasped Megan. “Maybe it’s an occupational hazard.”

“What were they talking about?” asked Madeline.

I could remember it as if it was yesterday. “Ah, I was standing near an open window during lunch break when I heard Miss Brody, uhhh she was our English teacher, asking someone, another teacher I presume, to see if…” I paused. “her bottom was still purple and marked with welts as it had been last night.”

“Golly!!” whistled Holly. “I knew I should have been a teacher!”

“And how did you feel when you heard that Sam?” asked Ruth.

I thought about that for a moment. How had I felt? Surprised, shocked, bewildered, excited and scared. Like I had, for a brief moment, caught a glimpse into the secret world in which “adults” moved and went about their business in. Not the everyday world but the deep dark shadow world where men and women did things - unspeakable things “together.”

“Sam?” asked Madeline.

I came out of the memory and smiled at her. “Like I was different from everybody else and knew about a thing that I wasn’t supposed to know about. I can honestly say that from that moment I had changed somehow. I didn’t know why exactly. But I felt it.” I put my hand on my heart. “I felt it in here.”

My thoughts and words drifted into the ether as the relief of actually saying what I had long thought and known was finally, after all these years, spoken out loud. I felt quite emotional on a basic level which was unusual for I had always been taught that a man keeps such emotions to himself.

Madeline and Holly reached over and each took one of my hands in theirs. “Shhh, Sam. We understand. We really do understand you.”


Part Three.

The comforting companionship of a whispering mind.

It had been both my friend and my rock over the years. In times of doubt it came to me and spoke words of wisdom and hope. Those that believe will in the end find their own personal nirvana.

I never doubted.

Not for a second.


“Have you ever wondered why?” asked Doris. “Why spanking makes you feel the way you do.”

I looked down and turned both hands palm upwards in deep thought and contemplation. I had good hands. Firm hands. Large hands. Good question. Why? Why exactly did its whole ideal overpower me so that its lack in my life became such an over riding chasm. “Because,” I began, hesitating as I tried to relax and let the words flow from my sub conscious. “I feel good when I think about it Doris. It excites me. It makes my world go from monochrome to technicolor. It’s a rush. It’s everything. It just means everything.”

Doris nodded and glanced at the others. “You’re right Sam. It is everything. It’s always there no matter what I’m doing. I can be in a place where it should be the last thing on my mind – but it’s not. It even influences me when I meet someone. My first thought isn’t “are they single, rich or well hung?” it’s “is he the type of man who’s man enough to give me the spanking that I want?” She gave me a blushing and embarrassed smile. “I’m sure I speak for all of us that we don’t want one of those “new” men that are supposed to be the norm these days. I want an old fashioned red blooded male who knows exactly how to treat a naughty lady. Sadly, those types of men are a rarity. Goodness knows I’ve looked.”

There was a murmur and nodding of heads at her words. I could feel the moods in the small room shifting and swaying silently. Women have such purity of thought I realised. They have the ability to express their emotions in a way men aren’t able – or want too. Madeline had sat quietly listening to our words. “For me it’s a kind of intimate personal journey of self awareness. I want to know what makes me tick. I’ve been on dates where when I’ve told him what I want he thinks I’m some sort of freak and makes his excuses and runs for the hills.”

Ruth looked at Madeline. “That’s because men think sex before all else. For me spanking is sex. There is no difference. A good hard spanking is just as satisfying as a good hard fuck.” She laughed and put her hand over her mouth feigning innocent shock. “Oh my, I said that bad word. I think I deserve a spanking for that. I hope I didn’t embarrass you Sam?”

“No,” I smiled, feeling the room shrink alarmingly. “Not at all. I have to admit, this is like a breath of fresh air being able to speak out like this. Most of my conversations on this topic only get so far as – “oh hey ok, I was kidding, honest!” From now on I think I’ll be able to at least say hello to a woman without wondering what it would be like to spank her first.”

“Then that’s a shame Sam.” said Megan, mumbling over the rim of her cup.

I looked at her. “A shame?”

She nodded. “Yes, a real shame.” she said slowly. “Can I ask you a question? A very personal question seeing, as you say, you’re able to speak about it so freely now in like minded company?”

A personal question?

As if what we were talking about wasn’t personal enough?

It was then I felt the hairs on the back of my neck begin to tingle as I realised they were all staring at me in a way that made the very air around us become charged with electricity. “Sure.” I said, feeling my mouth go dry. The intensity of their gazes was deeply un-nerving and highly erotic. “Fire away.”

“What exactly did you think of when you came into this room and you saw us all sitting here?” she asked. “Before you’d even had the chance to say hello.”


Upon such events are dreams fulfilled.

I sat watching as Madeline handed the small pen to Holly who carefully scribed her name upon a small rectangular slip of white note paper and then folded it carefully and precisely in two. Ruth held out a small cup in which she placed the slip of paper to mingle with the rest of them.

Ruth turned to me and her eyes were gleaming with anticipation and amusement. “Now then Mr Jackson, as Doris just explained, it would be a terrible omission on our part as the female members of this equation to let you leave here without experiencing the very reason you are here in the first place. So, we’ve decided to give you a special treat. You can spank one of us. Now, who that lucky girl will be depends on the slip of paper you choose from out of this cup.”

She place said cup, with it’s contents, on the coffee table in front of us. I’d never felt so excited, nervous and nauseous in my entire life. I sat frozen for a second trying to gather my wits.

“Go on Sam. Choose.” urged Megan.

“I hope it’s me!!” whispered Holly who had wrapped her arms around her knees. “I feel I need a good spanking today I really do!!”

Madeline rolled her eyes. “Now Holly, don’t be greedy. Some of us need one too you know. Now Sam, you go and make this a lucky dip for you and for one of us. Go on. Don’t be shy. We want you to enjoy yourself.”

I looked at them, each in turn. I didn’t say a word but sat forward on my chair and reached into the cup with two fingers, feeling one particular slip of paper slide into my grasp. I sat back holding it between my hands – still folded. I took a deep breath and carefully revealed the name. Somehow I had always known it would be her. I lifted my head and my gaze fell on Holly whose eyes went as wide as saucers. But I turned my head slowly to the right and the woman sitting there who broke into a wide smile.


The winner takes it all.

“I think we should have a recount.” sighed Megan disappointedly as she sat watching her friend and my prize get to her feet and come to stand in front of me as I sat purple faced and rigid – in more ways than one – in my chair. “It’s not fair; she always gets what she wants!”

Madeline patted Megan’s knee affectionately. “Now, now sweetie. It was done fair and square. Anyway, since she has the biggest, widest and fattest bottom of us all I think it’s quite appropriate in the circumstances seeing as this is Sam’s first time.”

Ruth twisted her head and looked down over her shoulder. “Hey, my bottom is not the biggest, widest and fattest here. That’s yours Megan!”

“It is so.” replied Megan who made a face and stuck out her tongue.

“Tis not.” retorted Ruth doing likewise.

“Maybe I should measure them both and then we’ll know for sure.” laughed Madeline. “I have my tape measure around here somewhere. I’m sure Sam is fascinated to know too aren’t you Sam?”


“Poor Sam. I think it’s terrible how you’re both keeping him waiting, especially since this is his first time. Now stop arguing and let him get on with the spanking.” ordered Doris.

Megan sighed and sat back. “Oh alright.” She looked at me. “Give her a good hard spanking Sam – she deserves it!!”

Ruth turned back to me and I could see fire and eager anticipation in her eyes. “Yes Sam. I really do deserve it. Spank me in just the way you’ve always wanted to spank a bad girl just like me. As often and as hard as you like. I can take anything you can dish out and come back for more. Do you want me to take my knickers off now or do you want to remove them?”

It’s funny, in moments of life changing importance how everything suddenly becomes clear and the world somehow makes the illogical logical. I felt strangely calm and sure in myself. Here was my defining moment and I was the actor upon a stage about to enthral a captive audience by my actions. Everything had become simple. I looked up at Ruth. “You’ll do exactly what I tell you to Ruth. Now come over my lap and prepare yourself for your spanking.”


Every beginning has an end.

So it was for my first spanking of a woman. In what felt like the blink of an eye – but in truth lasted nearly 10 minutes or so – it was over. That first spanking wasn’t a constant. It was much more than that. Metronomic delivery and stinging flurries were interspersed with moments of pause where I’d simply stare and listen to the vision and sounds of my handiwork.

I eventually did remove Ruth’s knickers – organic red ones if you must know – but not before I had felt that wonderful sensation of bare palm upon weave where beneath lay her hidden bottom turning from a suntanned pale to a rosy glowing red.

Sight, sound and tactile.

The sight of her, yes, I have to admit and admire, delightfully large and full round bottom enduring and inviting my hard firm spanks whilst it moved through a kaleidoscope of colours before settling on mottled blue tinged with deep hued scarlet was a delight.

The sound of her gasps, moans and cries gave encouragement to the skill of my assault and were wondrous to hear. Oh Ouch Nooo. It stings so. Not there Sam, please not there again! The other one Sam, please spank me on the other one! THAT SMARTS SAM!!

Each spank also eliciting comments from those gathered closely around us. Words of encouragement, amusement, chiding and wistfulness. You bad girl Ruth. Are you enjoying Sam spanking you? Is he spanking you too hard then hmm? You told him you could take whatever he dished out didn’t you? Oh my Ruth, just look at the state of that fat bottom of yours!!

The tactile feel of the spanking was incredible to me as its vibration forced wave upon wave across the vast expanse of her backside. The smart and sting on my hand a mere tingle compared to the pain coursing through this woman bent kicking and joyously yelling over my lap.

So this is spanking huh..



Still feeling exhilarated, I followed Madeline into the hall and took my coat which I quickly slipped on. I literally felt like a new man. Free of guilt. Being a pervert wasn’t so bad after all. It just depended on the kind of pervert you were. I could handle it now. It was time to accept who I am and to get on with my life. I owed them a lot. How would I ever repay them? “Well, I guess that’s one way to cure someone of their addiction.” I smiled. “Let them get their pent up frustrations out into the open and realise that it’s not such a bad thing. I feel so much better than I did a couple of hours ago. I don’t know how I can ever thank you enough.”

Madeline looked at me surprised. “Oh you mean,” a slow smile crossed her lips. “We aren’t trying to cure you Sam. No, no, no!!” She grasped my still warm and pulsing hand. “Do you have any idea how hard it is for women who enjoy being spanked to find a good, solid, understanding and dependable man these days?” As I stood there looking bemused she stepped forward and kissed me sweetly on the cheek. “We’re here to encourage you silly.” She started to laugh as she hooked her arm in mine and walked me to the stairwell. “A number of ladies have already asked for your phone number so expect a call or two in the next few days.”

She turned and walked back to her apartment where she stopped at her door before entering. She looked me boldly in the eye and an unspoken understanding passed between us. “And you never know – one of those calling just might be me.”


As I walked still in a daze out of the apartment block into the early evening rush hour I was met by the old lady I had seen earlier coming the other way. When she saw me she smiled knowingly but didn’t say a word.

As I passed her I winked and muttered “Redheads eh!”


The end.

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