style="font-size:15px;"> “Well, I think it’s the worst thing she’s ever done in her otherwise morally spotless life,” Hugo said with feeling.
“She didn’t want you to regard me as a responsibility to contend with. And my stepfather thought you’d spoil me and distract me from my studies, like candy. Since I don’t mind putting off treats, I didn’t press to meet you.”
“I suppose it’s for the best,” Hugo reflected, dropping back down to gaze up at the sky. “Your step dad sounds properly strict, not someone you can get around, like me.”
Amanda rolled over on her stomach and leaned up on her elbows.
“I think it would have broken his heart if I’d defected to you any earlier,” she admitted. “And, as you say, he did a lot for me.”
“I just hope this isn’t about her being afraid I’d actually spank a child.”
“Oh no. Of course not. Everyone knows that spanking people don’t do that sort of thing with their own children.”
“So you got your first spanking from a boyfriend?”
“Who said that? My stepfather spanked me many times.”
“Really?”
“Between three and five I would throw tantrums to get attention. My stepfather has a low tolerance for misbehavior and he’s half Chinese. Corporal punishment is big in their culture. So I got spanked.”
“Well, I don’t suppose it did you any harm,” said Hugo, lazily admiring his surprising progeny. That afternoon she looked the picture of autumn, in brown tweed leggings, brown knee boots, a white shirt and gold merino wool cardigan, her fair hair a mixture of natural pale shades, appearing even lighter in the dappled sunlight filtering down through the russet canopy above them.
“Can’t we pick up where we left off yesterday in the studio?” she asked.
“You mean, me spank you again?” he stared at her in disbelief.
“Yes, you stopped just as I was getting into it.”
“But... to what end?” he appeared genuinely puzzled, unable to comprehend her motivation.
“It will give me something to write in my diary.”
“No,” he pillowed his head on his hands, “it’s too perverse, even for me.”
“Why?”
“I’m sorry, honey, but to me this is too sexy a thing to do with my own daughter.”
“Gee, it’s not like I’m innocent,” she protested. “I’ve already had six lovers.”
“No kidding,” he smiled. “I thought you were into postponing pleasure.”
“Every kind but that. That I go for.”
“Know what, Amanda? There are a half dozen decent, gentlemanly players right here in Random Point. Any one of them would be happy to furnish you with diary entries on a moment’s notice. In fact, I’ll take you to meet the hottest one of them on our way home. He wound up marrying one of my favorite submissives, but I happen to know that she’s out of town.”
“I think you’re being very conventional,” Amanda declared. “And anyway, I’m not trying to seduce you. I just want to play. It’s so ridiculously innocent that I can’t see what you’re hesitating about.”
“I see that you’re determined to get your own way,” Hugo observed, his concern about breaking taboos beginning to ebb. What harm could it really do if this was what she wanted? “Maybe I’ll have to teach you a lesson about playing with fire.”
This declaration, though mildly couched, caused an instant blush to mantle her cheeks. Hugo sat up with a sigh, saying, “Remember, you asked for this!” The next moment he had pulled the lithe girl across his lap.
A spanking over street clothes, with its spontaneity and insulated warmth, is a type of spanking relentlessly sought by romantics and purists alike. Amanda was thrilled to receive it and expressed her approbation by making practically no sound beyond the occasional gasp, pant or yip as Hugo’s palm descended on her upturned seat. What followed was a series of rhythmic, medium hard smacks, administered briskly while continuously alternating cheeks, straight across the jutting centermost portion of her slim but well formed bottom. Then he spanked the upper middle portion of her bottom just as thoroughly, then the lower. Then he spanked her upper thighs and even bestowed a few smacks on her shapely calves through the backs of her leather boot shafts, which made her catch her breath and emit the faintest of moans. “Yes! I like it there!” she suddenly cried, pointing the index finger of one gloved hand towards her calves.
“Trust you to be different,” he said, continuing the spanking as she liked it, by including her legs in his rotations.
“And, maybe, it could be harder,” she murmured, almost inaudibly, before hiding her face in her hands.
Impressed by her serene tolerance, Hugo increased the force behind his swats but slowed the velocity, allowing every harder smack to penetrate through her layers of outer clothing before administering the next.
“Oh,” she groaned, “please, harder still!”
“All right, twelve of the best. Right now. Are you ready?”
“Yes!”
“But you’d better think pure thoughts,” he warned. “because if I get the slightest inkling that you’re thinking the other kind, this is never going to happen again.”
“I understand,” she promised. “I’ll be good.”
Whether she was good or not, Hugo never knew and never asked. He finished the spanking with twelve hard smacks, the last four across her calves, each of which made her kick and then let her lay perfectly still across his lap while she composed herself. When he finally turned her around, she threw her arms around his neck and hugged him hard.
She looked at him and said, very slowly, “That...was...perfect!”
“Okay,” Hugo thought to himself, “this is all past weird. I am obviously having a very perverse dream, from which I am about to awake. I’ll find myself in my bed at the house, Laura will be beside me. It will be the morning of the day I planned to propose and the only one to show up for the shoot will be Margot, the legitimate model from Boston.” Hugo closed his eyes hard, then opened them. But the only thing he saw when he did was Amanda jumping to her feet and brushing down her slightly rumpled clothes.
“I’m hungry, aren’t you?” she asked with a grin.
As the day began to wane, they peddled homewards, passing close by Michael Flagg’s cottage, off Shadow Lane.
“A friend of mine lives there,” said Hugo, the next moment noticing a familiar bike banked against the porch rail. As they came closer to the cabin, the distinctively crisp sound of a paddling from within could be heard without. Hugo flushed with pique as he realized his almost-fiancée was inside Michael Flagg’s house, being played with.
“It sounds
