Welcome to Saturday Spankings. This snippet is from MORE which is within the pages of the brand new, hot-off-the-shelves Harlem Dae boxed set THE COLLECTION - also available on Kindle Unlimited.
MORE, a short story, is written in the second person narrative and is about a wife wanting to explore spanking with her husband. It's told from both partners perspectives. It has a partner story, also in the boxed set titled HARD. I hope you enjoy...
Don’t just slap me once, it’s not enough. I want more. I want you to strike my ass, your fingertips just brushing my cunt lips, and I want you to do it again and again. I heard a woman can come just from being slapped like that. Don’t you want to try it? Don’t you want to see if it works? Don’t you want to know that you can get me off just by those delicious hits?
I’ll get on my hands and knees for you, and you can stand beside the bed, the perfect position. I’ll tilt my ass up and spread my legs so you can see everything—my widened ass cleft, my sopping cunt—and wait for you to hit me. The waiting is the best part, you know. Waiting for that first hit, for the bite of skin on skin, then anticipating those that will follow. And those that follow will burn—burn so hot that I’ll want to tell you to stop yet at the same time I’ll wish for you to keep going. To see if the hotter it gets the hotter I get. To see if your fingertips meeting with my fleshy cunt does what it’s supposed to do. You could even slap my whole pussy, middle fingertip striking my clit, just so I could say that one time, just one time I was spanked.
It wouldn’t be so difficult once you got started, I promise. You’d see me getting high, hear me grunting and groaning, and fuck, wouldn’t that just make you hard? I’d be at your mercy. You’d be the one in control, deciding how hard to hit and how often. And if it’s not enough, I’ll tell you.
“More! I want more!”
If I knew you were hitting me and playing with your cock at the same time, that would get me off faster. Knowing you were enjoying it as much as me…I couldn’t ask for more than that. And if you used lube on your dick, and I could hear you working yourself over… The sounds created would be just like those you make when you’re finger-fucking me. Do you like that sound? It makes your breathing shorter, makes you growl a little in your throat, and that’s what lube on your cock does for me. Gets me hot.
You’ve slapped me once in the past, just the once, and I remember waiting for the next blow. It never came, yet throughout our fuck I still waited, thinking, he’ll do it again in a minute. Please do it again. I never said I was disappointed when a follow-up slap didn’t come—it had taken all your courage to hit me as it was—but I was. Disappointed and wanting.
I wanted more—moremoremore—and now’s the time to give it to me.
Will you try it? For me?
You seem to want more. I think. But more what? I’m leaning towards slaps but it could just be fucking or cock or maybe even oral. You whimper and writhe when I get that just right. I bloody love it.
But no, it’s not oral. I’m pretty sure, at least, because we do that a lot anyway.
Damn, if only you would just say it. Spit it out and fuck the blushes, yours and mine. Then I would know where I stood. If it’s a spank you want, just tell me and I’ll deal with it. I’ll have to.
I think I know why you’re hesitating. I’m a nice guy, too nice, the sort who lets a fly out of the window rather than splats it. So why the hell would I want to hit your ass? Make your perfect, delicate pale flesh burn scarlet with my handprints? I can visualise it now, the shape of my palm, my fingers and thumb, outlined like a pornographic hand painting on your rump. The thought of it is hot, too hot to be trusted.
I did it once. It felt good, fuck, it looked good too. Your quivering butt globes offered up, my dick sliding into your slickness and heading towards a ball-squeezing crescendo.
“Spank me,” you’d gasped. “Please, spank me. Spank me now.”
After the shock of hearing those words had settled, my palm began to tingle. Then, before I knew what had happened, I’d hit you. A thrilling wave of absolute possession crested through me and I shunted in so deep I could feel your smooth, hard cervix on the head of my cock. My guts clenched as I watched the ripple of the impact glide over your soft flesh, wobbling the buttock I adored with every inch of my being.
You arched your spine, thrust forward. Shoved backwards onto me, as if seeking more. Your small yelp echoed around the bedroom then drove into my chest with a force that shocked me.
Shit. What have I done?
That was the first time I’d ever hit a woman. The strength of my blow had been barely controlled. I’d just let loose, swung down and struck. The air rushing around my hand, my own skin smarting from the contact and my biceps bunching and tense. In less than a minute my cock surged, spunk boiling up from my bollocks and bursting into you.
As my climax ripped through me so did horror. Raising a hand to my wife had turned me on. Fuck, it had even brought an orgasm, that had previously been under control, smashing through me. I hadn’t even waited for you to come.
I knew then I couldn’t do it again. Hit you, that is, and I didn’t have the self-control to go for another slap. I was too strong—what if I really hurt you? Made you bruise, bleed, not be able to sit down for a week?
No, despite the fact my cock had erupted within seconds of that single spank, and my head had filled with images of me repeating it over and over until you came too with a bright red ass, I couldn’t do it.
I don’t hit women. I’m a good guy.
3 novels and 2 short stories