Randy’s First Spanking

Here is another Randy/Sarah3333 story. This one is not so common and I found it on an obscure board dedicated to F/m back in the 1990’s, surprised that I had found one I had never seen before. One interesting facet is the POV. This is told from Sarah’s POV and she is a seductress here, using spanking as a way of both manipulating and seducing her young man.

Art by Endart, Photos by Nu-West, OTK Mom, others unk.

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How I First Spanked Randy in 1978

 

My experiences with Randy could be useful in helping a no nonsense woman get a quiet, younger man across her knee for the first time. (I suppose it could also work for dominant men and shy women.) It helped greatly in my case that Randy was a shy, completely inexperienced freshman when we first met and that I was an experienced  graduating senior.

He was (and still is) extremely youthful and looked no more  than fifteen when he came to the party at my sorority house and had too much to  drink. The more beer he had, the more giggly and juvenile he got. As we chatted  on, it was soon clear to me that Randy was also smart, funny, and sensitive in  addition to being so cute. I was also intrigued because he was obviously  interested in me from the start. What woman wouldn’t enjoy such attention, especially from a younger man who looked at her with puppy dog eyes.

I invited him back to a smaller party the next weekend and again he had lots to  drink (like everyone else) and got very silly and giggly. At the start of the  party, he came right over to my side of the room and hung around without  actually talking to me. He later told me he was too shy and scared and also in  awe that a senior would spend any time with a freshman. I gave him my biggest smile and welcomed him and we spent the rest of the party talking with  each other off to the side. The more beer he had, the more immature he got and  the easier it was to tease him. At one point around midnight, I asked if he was really a freshman because he seemed  more like a ninth grader who was out past his curfew without his mother’s  permission. When he blushed and laughed at the same time, I knew he didn’t mind jokes about his youthful  appearance.

Sometime around one AM when the dancing was in full swing in the next room, he  went off for yet another beer. I was pretty tipsy myself at that point and  starting to let down my hair. When he came back with his beer, I asked, “Does your mother know you are having  that beer, young man?”– “Haven’t you reached your limit, young man?” and “What would your mother do if she caught you this drunk,  Randy?”

The last question sent him into another round of giggling especially, since I asked it with a sly, knowing smile.  The week after the second party, I started having at least one or two meals a  day with Randy in the school cafeteria. I got to know his more serious side, his  straight A record, his humor, and his wide knowledge of books, music, and art. It seemed he knew a lot  about many things except women. By the end of the third week, he had told me  what I already guessed: that he had never dated anyone or even kissed anyone,  that he had been a book worm all through high school to scared to go to the school dances. And he had  never been any good in sports – practically a capital offense in any high school  in Texas. No wonder he had no confidence with women and no experience.

The more innocence he revealed, the more I was drawn to him. I suppose I enjoyed  being his “big sister” and the object of a “teen” crush. He later told me he  used to get secret crushes on older girls in high school, especially the prettiest cheerleaders, and that he  fell for me that way at the second party.

Within three weeks after our first meeting, Randy and I were getting together  every day for a few hours or more of meals, study time, and long talks. I  started wearing clothes designed to excite him without doing anything obvious. He was so easy to mesmerize. Even the  simplest things like crossing and uncrossing my legs in short skirts got him all  hot and bothered while I pretended not to notice.

About a month later, at another dance party, it was  clear after a few hours of dancing that Randy was dying to kiss me but  absolutely terrified of doing something he had never done. Since I didn’t want any of my sorority sisters to start  gossiping, I took Randy out for a walk in the little park behind my dorm and  took his face in my hands and kissed him with a kiss that went on forever. Once the poor dear got started, he was a fast  learner and eager to make up for lost time. We found a little bench hidden by a  grove of trees where we sat down in the night and I continued Randy’s kissing  education. Eventually, he tried to go beyond kissing but I slapped his hand down  and said, “Young man, watch your hands or I’ll put you over my knee and teach  you to behave like a proper gentleman.”

Instead of reacting to the playful spanking threat, he immediately apologized  and went back to kissing. Of course, my passionate response soon encouraged him  and after another twenty minutes of necking, he again tried to pet me. Once again I playfully slapped his  hand down and said something like, “Young man, don’t make me warn you again. If  don’t behave yourself, I’ll give you a good spanking right out here on this  bench. I’ve spanked naughty boys before as a baby sitter so believe me I know  how.” Once again he apologized for trying to go too far. And instead of rebuffing my  playful threat, he asked me a whole series of detailed questions about the  spankings I had given, their duration, the boy’s misbehavior, and whether I had  spanked on the bare. I pretended I was just answering his questions while giving  him the most detailed descriptions possible to feed his imagination.

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After that, we used to go walking a lot at night and always in the direction of  that little park knowing we would end up necking on the bench. Since he was  slender and weighed only about 140 at that time, I convinced him to sit on my lap while we necked. Not that he  needed convincing. It was a very arousing position for him because he got to sit  right on my thighs and snuggle against my breasts which he was otherwise not allowed to touch. In  retrospect, the poor dear was too excited either to notice or to care he was  being held in a rather childish position. Without really planning it, I ended up infusing a childish dependency  into Randy’s first experiences with a woman. The soft feel of my thighs,  breasts, and mouth were inseparable from the feeling of being held and stroked  and comforted on my lap. In contrast to what his hands could do (very little),  my hands were free to roam and had gone everywhere except one place Whenever possible, I paid particular attention to his cute bottom, stroking and  gently smacking it especially just before we sat down and I let him into my lap.

When we had kissed to the point where he was beside himself with pent up desire,  I would whisper things like, “Young man, you’re getting me so hot, I don’t  whether to take you back to my room and make love to you or take down your pants  and underpants and turn you over my knee and spank you on your cute bottom for being so fresh.” I would then sigh and go back  to kissing him passionately.  After a week of nightly walks to “the bench” as we called it, I began making  regular playful threats in private like “You ought to be spanked for saying  that, young man” and “You look more like an eighth grader than a college  freshman … why I ought to put you over my knee for being this late” and so  forth. And I often smacked him on his clothed bottom when no one was around.

When he annoyed me in public places, even student parties and school  receptions, I would take him discreetly aside in public and quietly whisper  things like, “Young man, if you give me any more trouble, I’m going to bare your  bottom in front of all these people and give you a sound spanking right here, do  you understand me?”  It was the time he whispered back, “You wouldn’t dare” and stuck his tongue out  impishly at me that I realized it was time to take things further lest he gain  the upper hand. That night at “the bench”, I let him fondle my breasts for the  first time pretending that I was too aroused to resist. In fact, that was pretty  close to the truth but I was determined to enjoy this latest escalation AND make  Randy pay a price. After a few minutes, when my blouse had come unbuttoned, I  make a show of discovering this and quickly put a stop to things by slapping Randy’s hand, rebuttoning my blouse, and standing him up. He thought I was  ending our little session but I had other plans.

Before he knew what had  happened, I had yanked on his hand and he had fallen, tipsily, over my knee. (It  was a Friday night and the usual partying had loosened things up considerably.) Before he could do anything, I began spanking him right through his clothes  while telling him he would be turned over my knee and handled this way from now  on whenever he got too fresh with me and opened my blouse. I was very careful not to blame him for fondling  me as if that was now acceptable. My plan was to set a very clear line which he  could only cross knowing it would earn another spanking. That was my way of  testing him, of putting a little bait in a mousetrap to see if my little mouse  was interested.  It wasn’t a hard spanking or one he would ever have regretted. In fact, I  spanked him in a way guaranteed to bring him back by interspersing smacks with  lots of fanny rubbing and compliments on his bottom and how I should have done this weeks before and so  on.

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It was clear from what I could feel pressing into my thigh that Randy was  not unhappy to be there despite his feeble verbal protests. He was only over my  knee for about four minutes and I quickly let him up and took him back on my lap to ask him if  he was going to behave himself in the future. When he said yes, I tipped his face up and began kissing him again as if we had never been interrupted while  reminding him what would happen if he ever unbuttoned my blouse again. The sensations of being spanked, however playfully, with passionate necking before  and after and more breast fondling allowed for desert must have made him a  nervous wreck.  Randy didn’t cross the line on the next two nights of walking to “the bench”. To  make it harder for him, I wore on the third night a sweater blouse which was a  little too tight with only a few buttons creating quite a few gaps through which  one could catch glimpses of my lacey brassiere and cleavage. And I made sure he  got an eyeful in my dorm room before we headed out. That was apparently all it  took to tip him over the edge of the precipice.

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After a half hour of passionate kissing and fondling, he eventually  unbuttoned my sweater – it didn’t take much with the small number of buttons – and I encouraged him by sighing and moaning as he  fondled my breasts through the specially chosen low cut brassiere. At the same  time, I managed to intersperse into my sighs little comments about how naughty  he was being and how I had warned him what would happen and so on. When he reached into my  bra, I gave a little cry of alarm, slapped his hands down and quickly stood him  on his feet. Before he could do anything, I yanked him over my knee and spanked him harder through his  clothes, telling him what he really needed was a bare bottomed spanking for  being no naughty and disobeying my instructions. After about four minutes of this, I soothed his bottom with slow, circling  caresses and asked him I he was going to behave himself better in the future or  whether he was going to need more spankings. When he said, “I’ll try, Saree”  (his nickname for me), I knew he was mine. I then sat him back up on my lap and  kissed him and told him he could expect more spankings when he misbehaved if he  wanted to continue dating me.

Instead of disputing my conditions, he went back to kissing me passionately. When we finally went back to the dorm, I warned him he would get a spanking with his pants down the next time he misbehaved.

Not more than four days later, Randy got drunk at a fraternity party on a  weeknight and came over to my dorm. I had already told him to save his partying  for the weekend and study hard on weeknights. As soon as I saw his condition, I was determined to teach  him a lesson that very night especially with his resistance lowered. . I took  him into my room and sat him on my lap and kissed up a storm before telling him  how naughty he was while he giggled drunkenly and fondled me. After a half hour, he managed to undo my blouse and I pretended suddenly to notice. Standing him up, I walked over to my door, locked it, turned on my stereo, and came back to my bed where I sat down.

Since he was wearing sweatpants, it was an easy matter to yank them down and pull him over my lap all  at once while shushing and scolding him and warning him to be quiet unless he  wanted someone in the next room to hear. The rock music was loud enough to cover the spanking noises as my hand fell again and again on Randy’s squirming bottom protected only by a thin layer of  white cotton underpants. This time he got something closer to a real spanking. I spanked briskly for about five minutes, alternating cheeks, spreading the smacks around. I heard some gasping and he wriggled around. It left his  bottom with a rosy glow which showed at the edges of his underpants. Even so, I’m sure it didn’t hurt much at all and his erection never quite disappeared.  Though I wanted more than anything else to take down those underpants, I also wanted to build things up slowly to make sure my little fly was completely stuck on the fly paper before  he realized what had happened. So I just pulled his sweat pants back up, stood him on his feet, and told him to return to his dorm, have some coffee, and get to work. I kissed him at the door  to my room, spanked him three or four times through his clothes, and told him “the next time it will be on your  bare fanny, young man so watch how you behave around me.” Since I said this with a mischievous twinkle in my eyes, a smile on my face, and a warm good night kiss, I knew he would be back  for more.

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And he was.  When Randy managed to unhook my bra and bare my breasts for the first time that  weekend at “the bench”, I took him back to my dorm room, locked the door, turned  up the music once again and put him back on my lap for more kissing and  fondling. I wanted to keep him in a fever pitch of arousal and excitement to  lower any resistance to what he knew was coming. To build the excitement, I kept  telling him how naughty he had been to undo my bra and how he needed a good  lesson all the while he was kissing and fondling me and unhooking me all over  again. Finally, when he was little more than putty in my hands, I told him  something like, “I think it’s time to show you what happens to bad little boys  who can’t keep their hands away from their girlfriends and act their age.” And with that, I stood him up, loosened his belt and unzipped him (brushing  aside his drunken resistance) and quickly pulled him over my knee, making sure  his feet left the ground so he was completely off balance. I started out spanking him on his clothes to make  him think he was getting off easy and to lower any remaining resistance. And  then I tugged down his pants and continued on his briefs. After a few minutes of  that, I finally yanked his briefs down to his knees where his pants were tangled  inside out and found myself face to face with his beautiful, boyish bottom for the first time.

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I had spanked a few boys as a babysitter but  Randy was the first grown up man to go over my knee for a spanking. I started  out slowly which was probably a mistake since Randy was so excited that he erupted all over my skirt after  about two minutes.  I scolded him for making such a mess, but kept on spanking, delighted at the way  his bottom bounced back and forth with each spank and the way his legs kicked. Spanking him was a delight. His bottom cheeks flattened and rippled, he wriggled and writhed, fluttering his legs. His fanny bounced under my palm and grew quite red. I ignored his protests since it was quite clear he was aroused beyond anything he  had ever experienced and continued spanking while telling him once again how he had  needed this for weeks and how he would now be getting spanked on his bare bottom  whenever I felt his behavior merited such treatment. I guess I got carried away that first time myself because I  blurted out all sorts of threats about spanking him because he was a little boy  who couldn’t be trusted to handle things for himself, and how I would now be inspecting his school work and  turning him over my knee if he got behind and all sorts of things.

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It was a  cathartic experience for both us of in letting all sorts of pent up feelings  come out. (It didn’t hurt that I had had four glasses of wine earlier myself at one of the dorm parties.)  After that, it was surprisingly easy to find other excuses to turn Randy over my  knee, especially since these spankings were directly associated with new sexual  experiences for him. He turned into a little puppy, following me around. Since  he was completely inexperienced, it was all new and wonderful to him. What college freshman wouldn’t allow himself to be spanked by the older woman he worshipped  when she used an extra pair of panties in her left hand to take care of him  underneath at the end of his spankings “so you don’t make a mess like you  did the first time” and so on. I also started lifting my skirts to make sure  they didn’t get wrinkled or “soiled” which added greatly to his excitement both  before when I was scolding him as he stood before me with pants and underpants  at half mast, and during when he wriggled around all over my thighs adding to  his own pleasure.

The more I initiated him, the more he loved me and the more I came to love him  too. It didn’t take me long to figure out it was the spankings as much as  anything else which had helped him fall in love with me, and me with him (even though he always protested  verbally at that stage). The first time we made love, about four months after we  met, I spanked him first and allowed him to seduce me afterwards in the making  up part, my skirt still raised high on my hips so it “wouldn’t get wrinkled”. And when he entered me for  the first time and rode his way to a very quick climax before moving on more  slowly afterwards over the next hour to a second climax, I reached behind him with my hand and spanked him to  encourage him and help him, get hard again. By making spanking a major part of  Randy’s first sexual experiences, I never gave the poor dear much of a chance.  By the end of the semester he told me he loved me . And three and a half years  later, when he graduated, he proposed. He’s been a very happy, well spanked  “little boy” husband ever since.

 

 

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3 responses to “Randy’s First Spanking

  1. I know this sort of story is not your fav, but thanks for posting it.

    Like

  2. I loved it, very well written. Like the woman’s point of view.

    Like

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