Safe and sound


spankingJohn Haskins crossed the yard with a sigh. The weather had been clement of late and the light breeze from the woods and beyond it the sea should have put him a good humour. The sea, he almost forgot his duty as he looked eagerly towards the woods. The Sussex coast was so wild in autumn and it would be winter soon and then there would be no more sailing for a while after that.

He looked at the outhouse with its small high windows and crumbling brick. One of the panes was cracked and he could make out a dusting of cobwebs inside as they formed grey nets to shade the building’s interior. It was nothing a scrub down and a lick of paint wouldn’t put right, but the whole structure did look rather dingy.

Then his eye fell upon the bumper of his 1968 Rover and he winced. It too needed some attention, but he feared this time it required more than a lick of paint and a wash. Why had he lent his pride to Amy of all people? He was fond of the girl, he might even get serious about her but for God’s sake, he groaned.

A flash of anger sparked him to duty and he wheeled with renewed determination towards the door of the outbuilding. The handle was stiff and creaked as he wrestled with it before it suddenly gave way causing him to stagger into the long room within.

The sight of Amy stopped him in his tracks. She was naked from the waist down and facing the far wall with her back to him. He had no eyes now for the peeling paint and the crumbling interior only for her and her pale young taught bottom bared to his gaze.

“Is this right?” she asked softly without turning around. “I mean… well you are going to spank me aren’t you? And I do deserve it John, I know I do.”

He let his eye linger on the curves of her bottom and then trace the long white legs down to where she still wore her jeans, but now draped around her ankles. Then he glanced at the way she stooped over the old battered sinks at the end of the room and tried to gauge her true mood from the back of her head. But her dark brown hair was only half tied up and mostly obscured the side of her face, which in any case she kept directed forward in a perfect posture of submissive corner time.

His cock twitched in his trousers and he forgot all about sailing.

“That’s perfect darling,” he chuckled and drew himself up straight like a character in a movie.

He always regretted that he wasn’t very tall, but he was still a head taller than Amy and for a man nearer 50 than 40 he was in fine fettle, or at least he told himself that. What the 30-year-old Amy saw in him, he wasn’t sure. By her own admission she had wanted a father figure, but until now he had assumed she had been joking.

“So what have you got to say for yourself?” he said more sternly.

“I…” she might have admitted she had been driving too fast or that she had missed the bend, but what did it matter? So in a slightly cheeky voice she said, “Whoops.”

“Whoops? I ought to spank you raw until you can’t sit down for a week,” he snapped, genuine anger pushing to the surface. But he wasn’t so mad that he forgot the hyperbole of his favourite spanking rhetoric.

This was still new to them, their spanking relationship hadn’t yet bedded down.

She trembled a little and sighed. “Sorry,” she squeaked, “I guess I have a really sound spanking coming.”

John looked around and spied an old Victoria dining chair discarded when they had upgraded to the 1890 arts and crafts furniture. It was just the thing and he grabbed at it to turn it around.

“Come here,” he said as he sat down.

She turned slowly and bit at her lower lip. It was then that he saw she held a hairbrush. It was large and ebony with a flat back. Not one he had seen before, she must have got it for just such an occasion. He felt a pulse of excitement and his old friend danced more vigorously in his trousers so that he had to shift a bit where he sat.

“That’s going to hurt,” he said.

“Isn’t it supposed to?” she whispered softly. “I mean, I do deserve to be punished, really punished this time.”

His eye lingered on the triangle of dark hair between her thighs. He loved her bottom but this view was fine too.

“Come here then,” he barked, pushing down his libido and addressing his punitive nature.

She didn’t rush but stepped out of her jeans and crossed the room slowly like a cat, with one leg being carefully placed in front of the other. Throughout the entire journey Amy chewed nervously on her lip and seemed to appeal silently at him with her eyes.

When she finally reached him he tumbled her effortlessly to spill across his lap with the neat dome of her tightly split bare bottom directed up at him. Could she feel his erection? Sometimes it didn’t matter, but even if this was fun, he wanted it to count, not seem like he was offering her something else.

He had forgotten the hairbrush until she awkwardly reached back to offer it to him. As he took it he thought about how much better it would have been to have her kneel to give it to him and offer him her bare bottomed apologies: perhaps next time.

“Right young lady, as you know this is going to hurt, right where it will do the most good,” he said lowering his voice an octave.

Scolding was important and he borrowed the line from an old movie.

“Yes Sir,” she agreed without prompting.

“You know what happens next don’t you?” he barked.

“I expect I’ll cry,” she offered up like a gift.

It had been a while since anyone had cried when he spanked them. Mostly women were never in the right head space or too used to the pain. Back in the day he had been a brute and didn’t care about the poor girl getting spanked. They had been younger then and he had taken their tears for granted. The trouble was most women would probably prefer the old him, not the man gone soft with age.

Was he disappointed or just wiser? He spanked his arm down hard without thinking as he might have of old.

“Uh,” Amy grunted and kicked her legs.

He sensed her tighten up and withdraw a little.

You idiot, he cursed himself. Without another thought he put the brush down and explored the bruise on her bottom.

“Sorry, but it hurt,” she whispered.

He almost spoke from sympathy but instead he recovered and gave her bottom a squeeze. Then lightly, so lightly he spanked the curves in slow steady pats until she relaxed. Then even before he could react further he set a faster past and slowly spanked harder.

The spanking was a respectable one and she was soon gasping and squirming as she usually did. Her bottom too was a rewarding shade of red and he began to put some force into the spanks.

“I am sorry about the car,” she said in a strained voice. She was feeling it now.

“I don’t give a… the car nothing, you might have been hurt,” he said urgently, spanking her harder.

He meant it he realised and suddenly he was mad.

The brush came to his hand easily and he pressed it against her bare bottom again.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” she began her litany of whispers.

The brush was crisp and had real bite and she blurted out a wail. But this time she hugged into him and he felt her soften. There was a hard red patch where the brush had landed and he added to it and then again. The spanking came easy now; a rain of pain that cracked and echoed around the room as she bucked and bawled.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry…” she repeated over and over, more heartfelt this time.

Her bottom was dark red and sore. His cock was hard and in total mastery of the other. Previously the spanking would have ended now but today he was only just getting started.

As if in surrender Amy’s voice cracked and she chuckled to tears, the first of a great many heaving sobs. But from the way she squeezed his thighs and curved up her bottom he knew she wasn’t done. It was if the spanking had only bugun for her too.

“I’m sorry,” she screamed, adding a long drawn out “wah” in a voice that was dripping with tears ended in true hiccoughing sobs.

“You deserve this, you know you do,” he said in a steely voice, proud that he hadn’t weakened.

“I know,” she agreed at a wail, repeating over and over, “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry.”

Her bum was a purple rash with a mess of small goosepimples and a rubbery welt framing the whole impact area. It was all he could do not to keep spanking her, but she was sagging now. At this least hesitation she hauled herself and hugged him properly sobbing her heart out.

“I love you,” she whispered through tears.

“I God I love you,” he answered squeezing her breathless.

She was safe and very soundly spanked as she needed and he had given her that.

6 Responses to “Safe and sound”

  1. 1 cindy2

    This was a great story. She is lucky to have found someone to make her feel “safe and sound.” I have at times found someone to help me with this, but not on a consistent, reliable basis.

  2. 2 DJ

    Glad you liked it 😉

  3. 3 Leigh Smith


  4. Loved this! She found someone who fulfiled her needs and he received a gift.
    Great writing

  5. Very nice build-wanted to read faster but enjoyed the pace.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

%d bloggers like this: