LSF Publications: spanking fiction ebooks

The Request is Granted
She had asked for a spanking!

Kat and I had discussed this request at some length over lunch, and agreed that her request would be granted. She had told me why she wanted to be spanked, and what she felt it would be like, or should be like. From what she said, it was clear that her ideas about a spanking shared between two adults were very much the same as my own. My fear, of course, was that Kat might find the reality was not the warm and comfortable means of dealing with a problem of behaviour that she either imagined as a woman, or vaguely remembered from when she was a little girl of ten, several decades ago. It has been said that pain leaves no memory, and that is probably partially so, but only partially. The intensity of pain experienced does fade in time like all bad memories, but never fully disappears. Then, too, there is the reality of pain at the moment it is experienced.

It had been more than four decades since Kat had been placed across a parental lap, her panties lowered and her bottom smacked. It seemed that she remembered the position and being held firmly in place for her spanking, and the awareness that despite being punished for a misdeed, she was still wanted and loved. Still, a spanking given as a consequence for poor behaviour hurts. That was the point of the exercise then. I wondered if she had forgotten that reality about getting spanked. However this one was going to turn out for her, our conversation had not deterred Kat's wish for her first adult spanking. She had repeated her request, and I had accepted. How could I not?

As the agreed time approached and I drove toward her home, just a few minutes away, those last few moments in the restaurant as we parted to await this private meeting together remained vivid in my mind and fed the imagination. There was the deliciously soft yet firm femininity I had felt with that love pat I had finally dared to give her, and the amazing spark of electricity I'd experienced on briefly touching her chastely clothed bottom. Her wonderful smile that followed promised much. Then the view as she walked away from me, the delectable, undulating motion of her hips as she moved, and the curves hidden yet emphasised by her skirt, its pleats outlining her hidden womanly shape. I could see nothing and imagine everything.

Such thoughts and visions occupied me, swirling about in my brain as the car and I covered the final few blocks between the restaurant and Kat's home on Lady Street. With such distractions, the other drivers on the town thoroughfares and I were mutually fortunate that no mishap occurred.

The house, while being unique in its design was still typical of the town. It was quite large, with a friendly, welcoming appearance.