Spanked! by Assorted AuthorsA collection of four romantic spanking stories. The stories are for those readers who like a domestic discipline spanking stories with a touch of romance.
Spanked! is a collection of four romantic spanking
stories. The stories are for those readers who like
a domestic discipline/spanking stories with a
touch of romance.
In The Driving Seat –Richard Savage
Barbra loves to shop... especially for shoes. But she never would have thought that buying a pair of shoes would land her in so much trouble. Alan is tired of fighting with Barbara about money. He decides after one pair of $1500 shoes too many that what Barbara really needs is a spanking.
Intimate Submission –Cara Bristol
Reese wants Jamie’s submission. But Jamie is convinced she needs to hold something back. But holding back is escalating the tension in her marriage. Jamie’s insistence on denying Reese one final act of submission pushes him to issue the ultimate ultimatum. Jamie must choose between surrendering the final piece of herself to Reese’s mastery or rebelling against the unfairness of the ultimatum.
Trusting Her –Starla Kaye
Rancher Sam Caldwell is in a funk. He’s been growling at his ranch hands, his friends and even his wife Katie. When Katie gets in a funk, Sam spanks her. So, when his bad mood stretches on with no end in sight, he decides to ask Katie to spank him.
Secret Desires –Cara Bristol
Morgan is perpetually late, but when she keeps him waiting one time too many he promises to spank her the next time she’s late. When she shows up late to her own birthday party Jack decides it’s time to follow through on his promise.
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Spanked! (Sample Chapter)
A collection of four romantic spanking stories
© Richard Savage, Starla Kaye and Cara Bristol and Black Velvet Seductions, 2013
In the Driving Seat
Barbara gritted her teeth, her father had been right,
Alan was a pig! The indignity! How dare he do this! She loved shopping, but he always spoiled it by bitching about every cent she spent. God she hated this petty debate every time she spent a dime on herself. Couldn't he just enjoy the fact that she looked good?
His grim funeral director's face stared back at her over the breakfast table. Barbara tried to coax him out of his foul mood with what she hoped was one of her winning smiles. Alan sat there, seemingly unmoved by either her attempts to lighten the mood, or the aromas of coffee that mingled with the sweet pungent smell of grilled bacon, filling the kitchen.
He had the credit card bill open, lying accusingly in front of him on the table. His features looked as if they had been carved from a slab of granite. His eyes were cold and hard, as though he was about to announce some great natural catastrophe had occurred. This happened every damn time the credit card bill arrived and it made her feel sick to her stomach!
She found his rigid control over the finances unsettling, as if nothing in her life was really certain or stable. She had always found shopping a comfort, but Alan had destroyed the pleasure in that, making her feel guilty, with his constant scrutiny of bank statements.
She longed for the time in their early marriage when he had been lighter, before his constant nagging about money, when he had treated her like a princess to be pampered and spoiled. In an attempt to rekindle those early feelings, she tried to summon up a smile but saw not a glimmer of his mood melting.
A trickle of alarm slid through her, refusing to be squelched. He did seem more angry than usual this morning. There was something in his manner, coldness, and distance that hadn't been there before.
She watched as his eyes narrowed and his fork clattered to the plate. She shivered a little and moved in her seat as she felt a wave of cold wash over her.
Like a volcano, Alan erupted, "You have to be fucking kidding? This is a credit card statement?"
She watched as his cheeks flushed and his nostrils flared. She heard the rush of air over his teeth. He was barely containing his rage. His sudden ferocity shocked her. He had gotten angry before, but he had never exploded quite like this.
She felt lost, alone, empty in the face of Alan's explosive anger, and it frightened her.
"This is ours? Right?" He shook the piece of paper. "I was just wondering if I had opened the statement for the third world debt by mistake."
Barbara felt herself smile, involuntarily. She had always loved his sense of humor, but she hated it when he used it sarcastically. It was like having something she loved used against her as a weapon. Her teeth squeezed her lower lip, as she tried to suppress the deep sadness that filled her, threatening to overwhelm her. She'd felt herself succumbing to this familiar feeling of sadness and isolation as Alan had become stingier and stingier.
As she sat before him she felt her anger rising as she thought of him goading her. She found it frustrating, as there really was no reply to his sarcastic humor.
"Well? The shoes. Are they solid gold? Or what?"
"What the hell, do you know of style?"
"I know how fucking much it costs." She saw the muscles in his jaw go tight.
Alan felt the anger bubble inside him like the agitated fermenting of an angry sea. His anger was a boiling churning cauldron of bile, souring the taste in his mouth, as it frothed climbing ever higher on the inside of his mind. He saw red and boiled over. What the fuck was he to do with her?
His mind turned the events over, his patience at an end. It drove him crazy, that with Barbara it was all material things.
He knew her father had always given gifts to compensate for his lack of time with her. Gifts—things instead of time. He sighed. He could easily understand why Barbara equated gifts with love and why she believed that money could buy happiness but he hated that outlook.
The situation was desperate and as he sat there, despair clouding his thoughts his thoughts turned to the article he'd read in a magazine while waiting for a haircut.
The article had been about domestic discipline. The writer of the article had claimed that the introduction of spanking had saved his marriage.
He had read about spanking in adult magazines before and he found the whole idea arousing, but he had never considered it in terms of repairing his relationship with Barbara.
He rolled his shoulders. Maybe spanking would be the magic bullet that would save their marriage.
Her words from another fight over money came flooding back into his head, "Maybe I could just ask daddy for my allowance back, or maybe he could give you a raise."
He felt a moment of calm, that silent spell before the thunderclap. His fists came together in front of him scrunching the flimsy paper into a ball. "I hold the purse strings in this house! Is that clearly understood?"
"Yes Sir," her voice was small, that of a lost little girl, standing at the headmaster's desk.
She looked so innocent, her head cast down, her eyes looking up at him. There was the expression of a little girl sorry for doing wrong and it tugged at him making him want to wrap her up in his arms and tell her it would be okay, but he'd done that many times before. The other part of him was intensely irritated by her blatant attempt to manipulate him.
He knew this meek and mild stance was all a part of the game. She wanted to slip from the hook, as he had let her in the past. Yet he knew that he could not go on like this. This time he had to be strong, one way or another, this had to stop. A line had to be drawn.
"You have two choices. Either we go back to the shop and I stand there while you tell the manager that $1500 is a ridiculous price for a pair of shoes and your husband won't allow you to spend that kind of money or..."
Barbara smirked and half giggled at the absurdity of her trying to do that. The humiliation would be unbearable. She had shopped at that particular store since she had been old enough to buy her own shoes. The staff knew her. Returning the shoes like that was not an option
Alan's jaw tightened "You think this is funny?"
She watched as he folded his arms, a wall of defiant muscle before her.
"Your alternative is to submit to a spanking."
She felt her jaw slacken. She could not believe what she was hearing. He had to be kidding. She looked at him incredulously.
The wooden dining chair slid back on the kitchen's quarry tiled floor and he stood. She felt intimidated by his sheer physical presence as he drew himself to his full height, shoulders back, shirt tight across his chest.
Spanking? Surely he was not serious. Her stomach churned, this was crazy. She felt her hackles rising, as the thought of him spanking her filled her mind.
"This is a joke right? You are kidding?" She folded her arms indignantly across her chest.
He put his hands in his pockets, and rocked back on his heels. "I am going spank you," he said simply, in a matter of fact voice, as if he was announcing that it was time for supper.
He took a step toward her.
"You are the one that has to be kidding now! I have not been spanked since I was four."
She felt dwarfed by him and took a step backwards. It was as if the walls were closing in, her field of vision narrowing. She felt small and insignificant, in the shadow of his massive frame.
"If your father had taken you firmly in hand earlier, this would not be necessary now."
She watched the twitch in his cheek and was mesmerized by his furrowed brow. He was not messing about, and she knew her attitude was making him even more angry, but she didn't care. Her own blood was boiling. How bloody dare he talk to her like this? The thought of being physically punished for buying shoes was absurd. There was no way she was going to submit to this.
Barbara stood. She felt her jaw clench.
She watched as his grimace slowly transformed to a grin of pearly white teeth that left her feeling a bit like Little Red Riding Hood confronted by the wolf for the first time. His smile was disconcerting. It made her feel as if he knew something that she did not.
He stood there as immoveable as Mount Rushmore.
He flexed his shoulders. "So you are defying me?" His eyebrows rose in an impressive arch.
She said nothing but didn't break eye contact. The turmoil inside her grew. She wanted to fight him, yet she knew she didn't have the strength. She wanted to hit him and at the same time she wanted to cry and run for sanctuary. A warm flush hit her face while a cold tingle ran down her spine radiating to pins and needles in her fingers.
He folded his arms across his barrel like chest, his back ramrod straight, unyielding. "I did think of a third option, maybe it would suit you better."
He paused and Barbara racked her brain, searching for options of her own. There must be something. Maybe he would settle for a blowjob. The smile on his face sure hinted at that. She was sure it would pacify him for a while. She returned his smile, happy to have been let off the hook. She began to relax a little more thinking the storm was about to pass. A bullet dodged.
The expression on his face didn't change. "I could send you home to daddy. I am sure he would be delighted to have his little girl back.
Her heart sank into a bottomless pit of despair. Christ no! After all the fights with her father there was no way she could ever go back there to live.
"I'm sure he'd be delighted to be proved right. I'm sure he would be overjoyed to see you could not hack it in the real world." His words were cruel, yet she felt the truth in them.
A cold fear welled up inside her. She fidgeted with the hem of her skirt unsure what to say, searching for the words. A lump caught in her throat, she could not believe he was serious. He was talking about divorce, over shoes.
A flash of anger tingled through her fingers and she felt a warm flush across her cheek.
She tried to keep her composure. Maybe a little break would give him time to cool down and reconsider. Maybe it would make him a bit more reasonable.
"Give me the car keys." She spat the words like venom, fists clenched, expensive manicured nails pressing into her palms. A wave of cold washed over her again.
Alan threw his head back and laughed, "Not a chance! You leave here with what you brought to this house, a jewelry box, if you can carry it, and a shitty attitude. I suppose you might as well take these shoes. Better still walk home in them, I bet you won't get five yards."
She felt the finality of his words clear through her soul. She wiped her moistened palms on the soft fabric of her skirt. Would he seriously throw away their marriage for this?
She felt a pain in her chest. How could she have pushed him this far?
In an epiphany, she saw how trivial possessions were when weighed against her love for Alan. With this new insight glittering in her mind, she knew with clarity that she could not lose him; she would do anything to keep that from happening. He was her life, her bedrock and she could not see a world without him in it.
She felt her heart pounding in her chest as she looked up at him, looking for anything that would tell her she'd misunderstood, that he still loved her. There was nothing on his face that gave her the reassurance she so desperately needed.
The scenes of their marriage flashed through her mind, like snippets from a movie, each one bringing her closer to the dreadful, predictable end.
She saw by his chiseled, marble face, that he was not going to budge an inch. He was a man on the edge and she had pushed him there. She flinched, as a wave of guilt washed over her. She had really not meant to go this far. What she wanted above all else, was for him to make her his princess again. She felt herself wither, deflating like a balloon.
How could she leave? While her father never bitched about her spending he never gave her the feeling of being loved, protected, safe, nurtured, the way Alan had in their early marriage, before they had started to fight about how much money she spent. In walking away from Alan, she would walk away from everything she wanted.
She didn't want to leave and there was no way she could go back to the shop and return the shoes. She had run out of options. Her heart sank. The spanking was inevitable.
"God please Alan, let's not do this." A tone of pleading entered her voice. Her mind was an emotional briar patch, a tangle of mixed emotions. "Can't we just make up? I promise not to do this again."
Alan smirked, slowly shaking his head, "I remember you saying that last time. Oh yes, and the time before." He folded his arms across his chest.
"It will be different this time, I promise."
"Barbara, we have been here before." Alan looked at her, his gaze met hers, pinning her, making her feel like a moth trapped in the glare of a bright light. "I am not doing this to be a horrible bastard." His fingertips stroked her cheek. "I love you. I really do want you to be happy. I just want you to be content with what we have."
She turned her head to the side, "And you think spanking me will make me content?" she asked, not understanding how a spanking would make her happy.
"Frankly, yes I do. You lack discipline and respect."
Not really having a reply for him she looked at the floor, the hollow void of shame enveloped her. Her head lowered in contemplation as she bowed to the inevitable.
"I take it that you are staying to face the music?" His expression was resolute. His tone was not of satisfaction. In fact, he seemed to be doing this reluctantly, rather than taking pleasure in it.
Maybe he was doing it for her own good.
She was aware of her own breathing, conscious the regular beat of her heart, as she remained silent looking at her feet. She felt a little sick, and her throat ached with the pent up need to cry, but no tears came.
His words came abruptly, cold and sharp, precise; his voice louder than it had been before. "Do you submit to corporal punishment?"
The sudden raising of tension, his unexpectedly harsh tone caught her off guard. She realized with horror that her bladder had let her down and she had wet herself. She closed her eyes in shame even though she knew the small leak remained her private shame.
"Yes." Her voice sounded small and dejected even to her own ears.
"You will address me as Sir during punishment." His voice was stern, as if he was talking to a member of his crew rather than his wife and it made her feel worthless and hollow.
"Yes Sir." She felt degraded and dirty, her wet panties making her feel even more childlike and unworthy of her husband.
"Strip, here in front of me please." His words were cool and matter-of-fact.
The simplicity of his words stunned her. There was a surreal quality, as if it was a dream and any moment she would wake up and find herself looking at her breakfast. But the stark reality was staring her in the face. Looking to his eyes, she saw Alan's jaw tighten and his brow furrow deeply. She wanted to comply, but she felt as if the wind had been taken from her sails. A million questions raced through her mind. How, in God's name, had it come to this? How could shopping have brought her to the edge of divorce?
"I want you to strip." His cold, clipped words dragged her from her own thoughts.
"Yes Sir." She felt a lump in her throat, felt the tears welling up, but fought them back. She caught the inside of her lip between her teeth. The sharpness kept her focused on what she had to do.
Her gaze climbed up his chest to meet his gaze, as she slipped off one shoe and then the other. They clattered noisily, as they fell onto the quarry-stone kitchen floor. Her gaze dropped as manicured fingernails slowly undid the buttons of her blouse. She looked up hoping to see some approval in his eyes, some softening, but she was disappointed to see only his steely resolve.
She shrugged off the blouse and laid it on the kitchen chair. She fought back the lump in her throat. She did not want him to see how lost she felt. She wanted to maintain at least that much dignity.
"Very nice." His words were simple but she thought she could hear a little of the ice melting.
Her teeth gripped her lip a little harder, tightening her resolve. She shivered and thumbed the bra strap from her shoulder as she reached around to release the clasp. She sensed his eyes burning into her naked flesh as she stood there feeling vulnerable and exposed. She lifted her arms to cover her breasts.
"I want to see you." His words sounded a little softer, which lifted her spirits a little.
Barbara looked up again, his face had softened slightly. His brow was less menacing and there was a hint of a smile, only a hint, but it made him look more approachable. She found it strangely arousing, almost as if she were an exotic dancer performing for a single client. She liked that he was giving her his full attention; it was almost like regaining a little dignity.
There was something erotic about the power he was exerting over her. In a funny way it was comforting that there was this physical consequence, that he was taking this step to curtail her spending. She also felt somewhat reassured that he cared enough to do this.
A host of sensations were coming to the surface. There was a melding of moisture as her clit throbbed to the same rhythm as her pulse. She found her breathing becoming faster, more labored. Looking down she could see her nipples were erect, aching to be fondled and sucked.
She turned her gaze back to Alan, as he unfolded his arms and placed them casually in his pockets and again she thought she could see the merest flicker of a smile. She wondered if he was enjoying this.
She let her gaze drop, feeling reassured by the bulge in his trousers. She liked the thought of his building hunger. She was relieved to see that his desire for her was undiminished.
Emboldened by the thought of his lust, she reached to the side of her skirt and slid down the zip, giving an extra wiggle as she shimmied and the black fabric pooled at her feet. If she put on a good enough show maybe that would be enough. It warmed her to think he might just wrap her in his arms and forget about the spanking.
She bent, gave her ass a seductive wiggle before picking up the skirt and placing it on the chair. As she straightened she turned to Alan. She watched as a knowing smile spread over his face. She searched for a reason beyond him enjoying the extra wiggle of her ass. Then, with a stab of horror it dawned on her that he could see her wet panties. In the passion of the moment, her slight accident had slipped her mind. Her cheeks flushed hot with embarrassment and she felt a rush of humiliation at the thought that her weakness had been exposed.
He seemed to be enjoying her shame. She could not really see the fascination; he had seen her with and without panties many times before. His gaze seemed transfixed on her crotch and the damp stain. Maybe it was the naughtiness of her wetting herself that had him so captivated.
She wondered what turned him on more, her humiliation or the prospect of beating her. She felt the curious persistent throb, between her legs. There was a heaviness deep in her feminine core, a persistent nag that would not be silenced.
She could not remember the last time she had been this aroused. She wanted him.
There was silence and she hesitated for just a moment, and thought of asking Alan if he would relent. Maybe he would be pacified by her mouth or a nice soft fuck. She saw his brow start to furrow again and felt her hope dwindle. She had seen him mellow, if just a little. She wanted her lover back and she saw him in his smile and warm eyes. She definitely did not want to see him freeze over again.
Without a word she hooked her thumbs into the waistband of her panties and slid them down unhooking them from her feet before placing the thin white cotton with her other clothes.
She stood erect and naked. The dimple in his cheek betrayed his broadening smile and the crow's feet at the corners of Alan's eyes showed his admiration of her body. She basked in the glow of his approval. It had been such a long time since she'd felt it and she felt warmed by it now. It felt as if her husband was beginning to return to her.
"Very good." He paused and there was a joyous tone in his voice. It was as if he was revelling in this moment of her submission. The brief praise made her glow, warming her like a sip of hot chocolate on a winter's day. "I want you to go to the bedroom. I will join you in a few minutes."
Barbara nodded. "Yes Sir."