(Continuing that excerpt from “Between the Lines”: thoughts about pleasure, while delivering my second-ever successful spanking.) 

As I continued, slowly building up the force of the smacks, she gave me movements to watch, the rocking of her hips and buttocks as she pressed down against me and then offered herself up in answering rhythm to my hand.

No, your head stays down.

She had tucked her hair behind her ears, but now she was in motion it fell forward over her face.

There were tactile pleasures, the curve of her buttocks and thighs under my hand, soft when I touched her gently, and firmly resilient when I touched more fiercely. The impact of my palm against muscles, the reactions of her body in that second of impact; those sensations were all the more intense for only lasting for an instant.

Maureen’s body pressed against mine, her hips slowly pumping, moving on my cock and under my hand. I was achingly aware of every silken micro-movement of her belly or her thighs.

There were sounds, too: the claps of skin against skin and her occasional answering grunts. And there were our own heady smells.

{To be continued].

(Continuing that excerpt from “Between the Lines”: thoughts about pleasure, while delivering my second-ever successful spanking.) 

I cupped Maureen’s left buttock with my hand, drawing a pleasurable sigh from her. She was cool to the touch. I cupped the other cheek, squeezed and patted her, and then stroked the sensitive skin in the cleft between. When my fingertips touched, lightly, against her cunt Maureen opened her thighs, releasing me.

She bowed her head, probably more in concentration than in submission, and closed her eyes. So we had begun.

I smacked her lightly, closely observing my hand’s impact against her flesh. I knew I would want to remember each detail. What was this? Why did I like this so much?

There were visual pleasures, the sight of Maureen’s flesh rippling and firming as each smack landed. Her face frowned in concentration, a slight pursing of her mouth with each blow. I watched these things with absorption, and wondered at their beauty.

Hand reared girl

When I made the smacks harder I could watch the changes in her skin, the instant of pallor directly under my hand at the instant of contact, blushing to pink as the blood rushed to the assaulted skin.

At first I could see individual prints, my palm, fingers and thumb marked on her like the paint hands on Palaeolithic cave walls, but these soon merged into one large red blotch covering her buttocks and upper thighs. 

[To be continued]

This is a bit from “Between the Lines” about the second (or fourth, if you counted two excruciatingly embarrassing first attempts) spanking I ever gave. 

Hurry up!

“The click of her bedroom door closing had enormous importance. We undressed with fumbling speed, not speaking until Maureen lay back on her white sheet and I lay between her long white thighs and I kissed her belly and the vault of her ribs. Only then could we pause to talk. It seemed that in the hours we’d been apart we’d done things that we had to do, for purposes that had nothing to do with this bed, and that none of those things were of any importance at all.

We focussed on what was of interest. I rolled onto my back and sat up, pulling Maureen with me so she sprawled on top of me. She raised herself on her hands and looked down into my eyes, then slid herself down to lie, long, cool and white across my lap. She closed her thighs on my cock, and waited. 

Our first experiment had been all immediacy, both of us sliding on the edge of the instant like skiers half a step ahead of an avalanche. This second exploration was different. Time moved normally. I contemplated Maureen’s beauty and the astonishing gift that her posture represented: the magnificence of her permission and the luxury of time to enjoy it.

Her pale length was still tinged with pink at her lower buttocks and upper thighs. The coloration was so faint that if I hadn’t known it should be there and wanted to find it I might easily have missed it. I was relieved to find I’d done Maureen no damage, but I had to admit to myself that I was also disappointed. I wasn’t entirely civilised: I’d hoped that I’d left my mark on her.

[To be continued]