Are we there yet?


road spankingThe Jaguar S Type hit the curve at a safe speed, gliding into the turn with the same assuredness of its driver, Mark Yeoman. The leather covered steering wheel gripped the leather of his driving gloves like lovers, gently and firm, constant and sure.

Mark liked leather, almost as much as he liked Jaguars. Maybe it was the leather upholstery that drew him to them or maybe it was the other way about but at 45 and with the first hint of snow at his temples, he was beyond such pointless introspection.

Beside him sat his latest girlfriend; a lightweight slip of a thing in every sense. She was pretty enough, with thick blonde hair and the kind of bubble-bottomed figure he went for, but he couldn’t supress the nagging doubt that he was also too old for such casual distractions.

His mother certainly thought so. He crushed the thought with a tightening of his square jaw, a kink in his life straightened out as easily as the Jaguar came out of the bend.

Jenifer was barely 25 and despite being a city legal secretary, she couldn’t hide her girlish enthusiasm.

“Are we there yet?” She chirped.

He frowned and supressed the urge to say something sarcastic.

Her voice was clipped and dripped with the tones of an expensive minor public school education. His mother wouldn’t have approved. Minor public schools were for army brats and wannabes.

He smiled. He liked the way she spoke and the way she blurred her background with a touch of estuary accents to blend in. She was probably unaware that she did it, but he liked her for it anyway.

Annoyed that he hadn’t answered her, Jenifer poked him with, “Martin Wilson has a DB9.”

“Astons are a good car, maybe you should have gone with him,” he replied indulgently.

“Maybe I should, he is younger than you. He is only 35,” she said with a pout.

Mark laughed and without looking at her said, “Is that what he told you? I was at his 40th last September.”

“Liar,” she spat. It was probably true now that she came to think about it, but she hated being made to look a fool. “Tom Cadmore is younger still and he is richer than you. He asked me to Paris last week.”

The layby heaved into sight, as luck would have it the sign beyond it read Poole 28 miles. They would have been there in less than half an hour. The car slowed.

“Why are we stopping?” Jenifer asked, sounding a little irritated.

He didn’t answer until the car was safely at a stop and then he undid his seatbelt and turned to look at her.

“What’s wrong?” Her voice was heavy with entitlement.

“You don’t know?” He kept his tone as even as he could.

She pouted a little and shrugged.

“We’ll get to that in a moment. Firstly, do you want to call Martin or Tom? I mean if I am not rich enough or young enough. You could do worse.”

Jenifer’s pout became more sullen and she turned away from him to stare sullenly straight ahead.

“It is a simple enough question,” he pressed her.

There was a long silence between them before she quietly said, “No.”


“Oh don’t be stupid. I don’t care about them. I was just trying to wind you up.”

“We’ll okay then. That brings us to why I stopped the car.”

She frowned, puzzlement twitching on her face. She really was oblivious to her fault.

“Get out of the car,” he growled opening his own door.

“Why… what are you doing?”

“Out,” he said sharply.

She stalled for as long as she could to make sure she didn’t appear too obedient and then she opened her own door and got out.

She was wearing a white mini leather coat over a mini skirt and mohair jumper that was almost long enough to cover the skirt; easily discardable layers to cope with the changeable English summer. He crossed over to sit at her left on the wing as she studiously trued to ignore him.

She knew he was angry, but didn’t know why. She quietly thrilled inside at the implied scolding from an older man.

“You have no idea, do you?” He sighed.

“I don’t know what you’re going on about. Can we just go?” She tried to sound cross, but it came out petulant.

He unbuckled his belt and pulled the leather through the hoops of his trousers and she frowned. Surely he didn’t want sex here.

Then as she still pondered his actions he pulled her easily across his lap, turning up the hem of her coat, skirt and jumper as he did so. Her full prominent bottom was encased in tight brief white knickers; the satin sheen matching the expensive soft leather of her coat. He liked leather.

“Mark please, what are you doing?” She was embarrassed by the assault on her dignity, but her trust was unabashed.

“You called me a liar.” It was a simple truth.

“Oh.” She blushed. She had, hadn’t she?

He took a firm grip so that she was fully across his knee with her bottom uppermost.

“Sorry,” she whispered.

He struck her once sharply on the seat of her pants with the belt and she squeaked.

“I said I’m sorry.” She didn’t sound it.

Mark paused and glanced up the desert road. Then with a sudden resolve he hooked his finger into the waistband of her knickers and puled then down over her thighs.

“Mark,” she exclaimed in a shrill voice, “Not here, someone will see.”

He ignored her as he began to strap her bare bottom; percussion to her sudden outburst of soprano.

“You are a spoilt ungrateful brat who doesn’t know when to keep it shut,” he barked spanking her again. “I don’t want to hear another word about Tom, Harry or that Dick Martin.”

Jenifer, her bottom already quite red, kicked her legs impotently and squealed. “Please, oh God, someone will see.”

“I don’t care,” he growled spanking her a little harder and enjoying the ripples of the ever reddening flesh on her bottom.

Just then a car rounded the bend a shushed past.

“Mark,” Jenifer screeched.

Mark ignored her and continued with the spanking.

Another car came past, maybe it slowed a little.

“Mark I’m sorry, I’m sorry, please,” she wailed.

“Are we there yet?” He mocked.

“Oh yes, please.” Jenifer was frantic.

“Is Jenifer going to be a good girl?”

“Yes, oh God please,” a little moisture creeping into her voice.

“Say it,” he commanded.

“I’ll be good,” she said, panting a little.

Another car went by.

“Mark please,” she begged.

“Say it properly,” he insisted.

“I’ll be a good girl,” she yelped.

“Say, ‘Jenifer will be a good girl,’” he said with a hint of amusement.

Jenifer gritted her teeth to resist the onslaught that followed. Then another car rattled around the bend. She risked a glance over the bonnet and saw an amused look on two couples inside. If they looked back they would see her bare bottom, stained red under Mark’s hand.

“Say it,” Mark ordered.

“Jenifer will be a good girl,” she sniffed.

He set her on her feet, expecting a tirade, but instead, after hastily smoothing down her clothes and tugging up her knickers she ran to him for a hug.

“I’m sorry,” she lisped. “You can spank me properly later.”

“Oh I will,” he whispered.


11 Responses to “Are we there yet?”

  1. 1 paul1510

    Great story, love the detail, I’m never quite sure what estuary accents are.
    Having Googled some examples of it. I can’t say that I like it, cheerio, like!

  2. Loved it. Totally hot.

  3. Paul, I thought not knowing what things like estuary accents were was due to being American! I need a British glossary–thank god for Google!

    Good story, DJ. I hate to side with the Top, but that girl needed a spanking.

  4. 4 marita

    Hello Spanko World!
    There is only one month left to celebrate our special day
    Remember, 8 August, Consensual Spanking International Day, the best excuse to have some spanking fun!
    Happy spankings from

  5. 5 kaki

    Tom, Dick, or Harry. *chuckle*

  6. 6 Sir T

    Cute, sweet and loving. Just the way it’s meant to be.
    Oh, I almost forgot. It’s sexy too. 🙂

  7. 7 DJ

    Thanks everyone – a bit of fun drawn on reality. 🙂

  8. Just had to add my own laugh at the Tom, Dick, or Harry thing. 🙂 Wicked funny. and hot.

  9. 9 quinn664

    I liked that story. Well, except for the belt part. And the being outdoors part.

  10. Loved it. I can’t tell you how many times I’ve antagonized a man while hoping for that sort of reaction!

  1. 1

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