From the Top Shelf - Late

My latest find is The Mammoth Book of Best New Erotica, Volume 8, edited by Maxim Jakubowski. Today's selection - "Late for a Spanking" by Rachel Bussel - is the gem in this collection. What I find interesting is that the story is told in the first person by the male spanker, yet the author is female. Perhaps Rachel is a pseudonym. In any case, besides some juicy spanking details, I have included some of the thoughts and emotions of that spanker. I think you'll enjoy them and possibly relate to them as well.

Laura is late. There's no escaping the fact that the clock tower outside my apartment has just loudly chimed six and my spankee has yet to show.  I walk around my bedroom, running my fingers over the implements I've set out in preparation. There's a tiny slapper, a small patent-leather nothing of a toy, one whose bark will always be worse than its bite. There's a ruler, an extra-long, coated one, for maximum impact. There's a shiny black paddle, stern and strong, like me. There's one with fur on one side, for when I want to soothe her, or just lull her into a false sense of security. There's a strap, my belt, a wooden paddle. I probably won't use them all on her, but I like to have them ready, just in case.

I pace around, trying not to get too angry. Our spanking dates are about fun, about mutual enjoyment as she bends herself over my knee or splays herself across my lap. Sometimes I sit on a chair, completely clothed, while she strips before me and then lies down, her long hair brushing the floor. I have to wait for her to become totally still; she's that perfect blend of nervous and excited that makes her body gently hum and quiver.

...

At six forty-five, my doorbell finally rings... I'm partly surprised, partly aroused and partly annoyed to see her standing there blowing her sweaty bangs off her face, looking contrite and bedraggled... She's pushing thirty but dresses like a schoolgirl--literally. She has on a pleated plaid skirt, strategically ripped fishnets, big black platform shoes, and a skimpy little white tank top... Her hair is in two braids, black eye makeup smeared around her eyes, red lipstick emblazoned across her mouth...

I let my annoyance show. "What took you so long?" I snap, blocking her entrance with my body...

"The train was delayed, and I forgot something in the house..." she seemed to be making excuses, her voice getting whiny. When she looks at me, her eyes blaze both apology and defiance.

...

"I'm going to make you say you're sorry, girl. You were forty-five minutes late! I really should've just left, and your punishment would've been to go home with your bottom just as pale and bare as it is right now. But I'm going to make you pay, don't you worry.... You're going to get forty-five whacks--one for each minute you were late."  

...

Her ass is right there, all mine for the taking. She's got just enough meat on her bones to make her rump perfect for spanking; girls who are too thin make me worry I might truly be hurting them, and I like asses that are wide enough to cover a range of smacks, ones where I need to hit them a few times to cover the entire cheek...

I press down against her body, ensuring that she won't jerk when the first blow lands. Then I raise my hand and bring it crashing down against her right cheek, hearing the boom, seeing her skin go from pale to pink in moments. "One, sir," she says, her voice loud and direct. It always starts out strong, like she's trying to show me how powerful she can be even spread across my lap. By the end, I'll have her whimpering out her numbers--if I'm doing my job right.

I roll her slightly forward to get the best angle, then do the same to her left cheek. "Two, sir," she responds dutifully. I keep going until ten, my palm stinging as the heat roars through our flesh. I pause there, rubbing my palm against her curves, ready to take things to the next level.

The next level is the belt, with Laura bent over the end of the bed. When she is in position and prepared:

I push the belt to her lips, startling her eyes open. "Kiss it, then tell me what number's next," I demand.

Something breaks open inside me, swelling...my insides, puffing me up, when her lips purse immediately. She gave the belt a solid smacker, then says in her most matter of fact tone, "Eleven, sir," as if telling me what she's made for dinner. Her eyes watch me, this time not so much begging as seeking, staring back at me an equal partner in our game. She knows just how much I like to spank her, and I know how badly she needs it, but both of us go along with this game anyway, adding to the thrill. Actually, making the thrill happen. Without me on top and her below, spanking her would be no fun at all, something a machine could do just as well.

...

I drop the belt at twenty-five, picking up the wooden paddle instead. I could insist on the blindfold, but I like the look on her face when she sees what I'm holding--half horror, half need.... I know my job is to urge her on, for the reward is always so much greater than the risk.... The pain only lasts for a few moments, her ass smarting, but the pleasure will keep Laura going for days.
...

And no matter what I use on Laura when she's bent over, no matter how firmly I plant my hand upon her skin as she's asking for it harder and stronger, she knows who really holds the paddle in this relationship. She's got me exactly where she wants me--on top, looking down at her, my hand raised.... And if you want to know the truth, there's nowhere else I'd rather be.