Asking for it: an excerpt from LaForge

The novel “LaForge” is a lot of things. It’s a spanking novel loaded with erotic spanking scenes. It’s a romance. And it’s a paranormal thriller. I experimented with several different ideas in this book and here is one of them.

Sometimes there is this situation: one character is in a domestic discipline relationship, but her friend is not. Both engage in some type of risky behavior and the first character, let’s say a wife, is punished by her husband. The friend is shocked but curious, and in addition, feels guilty for having enabled the wife. She almost feels like she should share in the wife’s punishment. She has feelings for the man who she has partnered with, so it’s not at all surprising that it may turn out like this:

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The meeting at the junction found a pair of frightened but relieved girls, and a concerned Sam and Tom. Bridget related the story. Tom didn’t say anything except to express how glad he was that they were safe. Tom had Sam drive Bridget’s car. Bridget got in the truck with Tom.

As they started the drive over the pass Tom said, “What were you thinking, Bridget?” Tom now felt free to be clearly annoyed since the danger had passed and all were safe.

Bridget told him about Rachael’s insistence on the reconnaissance mission.

“And if Rachael had wanted to jump off a cliff, too? That would have made it ok?”

“I couldn’t let her go alone,” Bridget pouted.

“We’ll discuss this further at home.” To Bridget that sounded like ‘wait ’til I get you home’.

They conferred in the living room at Bridget’s farmhouse. “Ok ladies,” Sam began, “suppose you tell us what you found out on that unauthorized adventure.” Sam thought that it had been reckless. He knew Tom did too.

Rachael reported exactly what they’d seen, feeling justified that they had gone. “It is certainly enough for me to suspect that something is happening there. Was there a person in that sack? It was big enough. And what on earth is a pillory doing in the courtyard of a hotel, not to mention the other things. They looked like frames of some kind, like for tying people down to do God knows what to them. What did you men find out?”

Tom was looking at Bridget with a look of both relief and anger. “We found out a lot. We’ll discuss it over supper if you don’t mind. Right now I need to have a little discussion with Bridget alone. Why don’t you folks go for a walk? Work off some that tension from all of this.”

Sam and Rachael looked at each other as if waiting for a cue from the other. Sam finally slapped his thighs and said, rising, “Good idea. C’mon Rachael, let’s give them some privacy.”

Tom turned to Bridget, as soon as they’d left.  “I can’t believe it. You told me you wouldn’t do this.” He shook his head slowly. “Upstairs. Go. Take off all your clothes and wait for me.”

“Tom, no.” Her hands flew unconsciously to her rear end, cupping the cheeks that she feared were due a real tanning. It wasn’t going to be a playful paddling like on their honeymoon. Tom had gently warmed her bottom then, and it had been very sensuous and arousing to be taken across her new husband’s knee to have her bottom cheeks lightly spanked to a rosy hue amid much stroking and rubbing. The sex afterward had been nothing short of fantastic. This would be different.

“Bridget, I will not have this. You told me one thing then did another. You could have been torn to bits and the only reason you were not is because Sam had a last minute thought to see the hotel himself. This will not happen again.”

Knowing that further argument was futile she trooped upstairs. As she stripped for what she feared would be a real and very sound spanking from her husband she caught the reflection of her pert figure in the mirror. Maybe I can distract him, she thought.

But Tom would entertain no such thought. He entered the room to find her naked and sat on the bed, frowning. “I hate to do this, but you know you deserve this licking, Bridget. Come here.” He gestured, pointing to his knee.

“Tom, no please,” she entreated. “Nobody got hurt and we found out some things. We won’t do it again. I promise.”

“You’re right about that last part. You will not do it again,” he said as he took her wrist and tipped her across his knee. It took him a minute to position her struggling body just so, bottom arched up over his left knee, jutting skyward at just the right angle. His left arm encircled her waist like an iron band. She felt helpless. Her feet were kicking but it wasn’t doing any good.

In the history of spankings Bridget would later reflect that it had been one of the very best she ever got. But as Tom commenced a noisy and vigorous smacking of his bride’s bare bottom cheeks, all she could reflect on was the burning pain that stung with ever increasing intensity as Tom poured smack after smack on her quickly reddening globes. The first few smacks tingled sharply, the next few stung and were uncomfortable but manageable. After that the sting became a furious bonfire in her bottom from which she could neither escape nor endure with any grace whatsoever. An observer who could have seen the proceedings would have seen a tearful girl wriggling across her lover’s lap, clearly in distress at her painful predicament, as smack after stinging smack landed, each globe flattening momentarily before rebounding to its formerly rounded shape. The same observer would have seen the determined lover intent on his task, brow furrowed with concentration, taking careful aim and striking briskly in a steady cadence, evenly spanking the tender bottom globes to infuse the entirety of their surfaces with the hot glow of what he surely believed to be justifiable chastisement. For nearly five full minutes the room resonated with the cracks of bare palm meeting bare bottom accompanied by Bridget’s yelps and entreaties.

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Bridget finally broke down crying, a full throated cry that signaled her complete surrender. Tom stopped. He rested his hand on her flaming bottom.

“Don’t ever pull anything like that again, Bridget.” He stroked her now. She’d been punished enough. “I’d lose my mind if anything happened to you.”

Bridget sobbed, “Oh, Tom. I know. I’m sorry.”

Outside Sam and Rachael could hear the sharp sounds of hand meeting flesh through the open upstairs window.

“Oh, dear,” said Rachael. “Do I really hear what I think I hear? Do you suppose he’s actually giving her a spanking? Is that what I hear?”

Sam knew that sound well. “Yes, and it figures to be a sound one.”

The smacking sound increased in both volume and tempo. The wails grew in volume as well.

Rachael winced. “I feel responsible. If it hadn’t been for me, she wouldn’t be in trouble. I insisted that we go. Now I feel terrible. The poor girl. He’s a brute for doing that to her.”

Sam shook his head. “It’s their arrangement. He loves her and wants to keep her safe. She disobeyed and almost got both of you hurt. He’s not a brute. It’s just a spanking. Many women feel loved and cherished if their men dole out that type of discipline when necessary.”

“Oh? How do you know?” she asked. Rachael had stopped now, hands on her hips, head cocked.

“Ok, since you asked, I’ll tell you how I know.” He told her about the Delphian Sisterhood and their domestic discipline arrangement. The look of astonishment on Rachael’s face grew as he told the story. “It’s how they wanted it. They explained that, being who they were, they needed it, but they did not feel special in this respect. They believed they were behaving like ordinary women.”

Rachael considered this, her logical mind working through it. “Fascinating. And we come back to the fact that I’m responsible. When we go back in there she will rejoin us, probably as if nothing happened, but her bottom will be sore and she will need a pillow to sit on, won’t she?”

“Probably.”

“And I’ll be there all fine, no problem for me— and I caused all of it.”

“That’s one way to look at it.”

“She only went because she wouldn’t let me go alone, knowing she’d probably get caught, knowing that Tom would punish her like that.” Rachael shook her head, disgusted with herself. “Darn, she even said we should go quick and get back before you guys returned.”

“So what?” said Sam, giving her a pointed look. “You weren’t going to share what you’d seen? Either way Tom was going to find out. She went on your little adventure knowing in advance that her bottom was due a warming eventually.”

“You’re right.” Rachael said, deflated. “I feel so guilty and awful about this.” She looked around, as if trying to decide something. Then she squared her shoulders, raised her head and looked Sam in the eye. She gestured toward a big outbuilding. “Is that a barn?”

“I think it’s Bridget’s shop,” said Sam, wondering what Rachael was up to.

Rachael took his hand. “Come on. There is something you have to do.”

Sam could only guess what she had in mind. They entered the barn. It was a workspace mostly, but at a far end was a couch.

She took a deep breath. “How do we do this? I suppose you sit on the couch? I’ve never had a …you know…”.

“A spanking? You might as well say it.”

She just nodded.

Sam sat down in the middle of the couch. “You sure you want this?”

“I don’t want it, but I think I need it. Tell me what to do.” She licked her lips nervously. It had seemed a noble gesture, to share her new friend’s pain, but the moment of truth was at hand.

“Ok, Rachael, but if we start this, understand it’s on my terms. There is no begging off, no hollering uncle for me to stop. I’d be giving you the tanning that I think Bridget got and that’s when it stops, not before. I ask again-is this what you want?”

Rachael looked at Sam, his craggy but kind face, his square shoulders and big hands, an almost sad look on his face. In a small voice she said, “Yes.”

“Come over here then,” he said indicating his right side. She complied, taking mincing steps like a little girl.

“Take your jeans down.”

Rachael’s eyes got big. “What?”

“You heard me. Jeans down. I’m not wearing my hand out on the back of your jeans.”

She moaned but unfastened the snaps and lowered the jeans to her knees. It took some doing as she had to shift her hips from side to side to wriggle the jeans down over her prominent bottom. She was blushing furiously.

“Ok. Over my lap.”

Rachael gave another moan but laid herself across Sam’s knee. She had a world class derriere all right, and it was encased in tight black panties that were cut a bit small displaying the fullness of her heart shaped bottom. She shivered and flinched as Sam rested his calloused palm on her rear. She’d never before felt a man’s hand resting there for the purpose it was about to undertake. She closed her eyes, gritted her teeth.

Sam raised his arm and gave her a hard spank. She flinched. He gave her another. It landed with a crack! that reverberated off the walls. Sam then set about to deliver a series of very deliberate spanks, fairly hard, but not with the full strength of his arm. He paused in between each to let her fully absorb the sensation before landing the next. For the next few minutes this slow tempo smacking of Rachael’s bottom was the only sound heard in the cavernous barn. For a while Rachael was still and all Sam could hear were her quick intakes of breath after each smack.

She was trying to maintain some dignity, to take it with some grace, but as the sting of the spanking grew more intense she began to realize that grace and dignity were not what a spanking was all about. She wriggled and fluttered her legs.

Crack!….”Ow!” Crack …”Owww!” She yelped. Sam’s hand rose and fell about twenty times before he stopped, momentarily resting it on the fullest curve of her bottom. She started to rise, but Sam held her down.

“What? I thought…”

“Oh, no, Rachael. It’s not over. Now comes the real thing. This is what Bridget got.”

She felt pressure from his arm across her back, pushing her back down. She felt his fingers in the waistband of her panties, and before she could register her shock he had yanked them down to mid thigh revealing her plump and shapely bottom in all its nude glory.

She let out a surprised “Oh!” as Sam resumed the spanking of those lush cheeks, this time launching a rapid volley of hard smacks that increased in intensity.

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Rachael screamed lustily at this unexpected onslaught. Sam gave her a concentrated flurry of hard licks, paused a bit, then resumed, giving her another volley. These were quick sets of spanks that peppered every inch of her bottom. They increased in intensity so that by the time he reached the last she was quite overwhelmed with the burning sting in her fanny. After a number of such sets her eyes were pooled with tears and she was begging for relief.

“Oh please, oh please, Sam! Enough!” she yelped in response to the staccato smacking of Sam’s hard hand.

“Not ’til I say,” he countered and launched the final volley. After 20 smacks in that last volley, he’d figured she’d reached her limit. Her fanny was a bright red. She was sobbing. It was enough.

She sobbed quietly and didn’t say anything for a moment as Sam caressed her flaming moons tenderly. She turned toward Sam on his lap and put her arms around him snuggling her face into his chest, her tears wetting his shirt.

“Shh…shhh…it’s over. We’re done,” said Sam, soothing her.

After several minutes he said, “C’mon, let’s get you up.”

She rose unsteadily, jeans and panties around her knees. “I don’t think I can put my pants back on,” she said in a small voice, like someone in shock. “My b…behind is so hot and swollen. Oh my God.” She kicked off her jeans but pulled up her panties, wincing.

She carried her jeans and let her shirttails fall covering her pantied rear. She held on to Sam’s arm and walked with him gingerly back to the house.

Supper was odd, to say the least. When Bridget and Tom finally emerged from upstairs, Bridget could see the redness in Rachael’s eyes. And she didn’t miss Rachael’s reluctance to sit down while they shared information. Later, in the kitchen, as they put supper together Bridget said, “Don’t tell me Sam gave you a….”

“Yes he did,” said Rachael with a rueful look. “I mean…you got it too. We heard. Through the window.”

“But why?” said Bridget. “He’s not your husband.”

“Because I asked him to,” Rachael replied, somewhat chagrinned. “It was only right. I couldn’t live with myself knowing how you got punished.”

“Well, I’ll be darned,” said Bridget, amazed. “In my case I had a determined husband that I couldn’t have stopped with an army tank from tanning my tail, and you go and actually ask for it. Did it hurt terribly?”

“Oh, yes,” said Rachael, rubbing her behind for effect. “It really burned. I guess the man knows how to spank a girl’s behind. But I felt terrible. I practically made you go. I felt I should share the consequences.”

“You sweet thing. The truth is, though, we learned something we would not have known otherwise, so that’s some consolation. The other truth is,” she added with a salacious grin, “although I got a pretty thorough licking, there were definite, shall we say, other consolations. I mean, afterward.”

Rachael said, “Um, I see.” Funny, she’d felt extremely turned on later, when the pain had subsided to a warm glow. She even entertained the idea of knocking on Sam’s door later that night, but she felt too shy.

“It was almost worth it,” added Bridget with a wry smile.

 

 

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