In the tea room, at the Antiques Centre where I sell my wares, I have befriended a vicar. A lovely man. last week I went to his church and vicarage for tea and cake. I actually rang a bell for the first time!
He was brave enough to approach me, he had seen the spanking art and few implements on one of my stalls. Our conversations over the weeks have become very deep. He loves all things spanking and likes to write the odd story.
So…we have a new contributor.
The First Meeting
“So tell me,” the man sat across the table from her “Why do
you want me to spank you?”
She looked around the genteel tea shop in which they were
sat and realised that everyone in the room had heard what he said. The two
teenage waitresses in their traditional black knee length dresses and white
aprons continued to stand at attention, with their hands clasped together, but
both had glanced across at their table, while the vicar and his wife at the
table adjacent to them had paused their conversation and were idly stirring
their teas and pretending not to listen. The other tables were a mix of older
couples enjoying their cream teas, but their conversations had all dwindled to
nothing and their attention was all onto her table.
She felt herself blush as she thought about her answer. She
knew that a whispered response would not be enough and she would be forced to
repeat it loudly enough for all to hear, so her words needed to be carefully
chosen. “I want to go beyond the pain” she responded, doing her best to control
her voice. “I want to stop feeling the individual strokes and just to feel the
heat and the sensation of no longer being in control of my emotions”
He nodded. “In control of anything in fact.” He paused and then said “And how will you feel when a man more than twice your age, a man wearing a dog collar, you hardly know removes your dress and your underwear and commands you to place your hands on your head, while you stand in front of him, exposing your most intimate areas to him and anyone else he chooses?
She squeezed her legs together, pushing her clitoral hood piercing harder against her clitoris and sending a wave of pleasure coursing through her body. She looked down into her lap, trying to control her facial expressions “I would feel embarrassed” she replied “But I would always comply with your orders.” She shifted slightly, feeling her vagina lubricate, leaving a small dark mark on her white cotton knickers. The thought of exposing herself to a stranger – a vicar! – not to mention the spanking that would follow excited her greatly, despite her apprehension that he might order her to do so as publicly as he was currently questioning her. She looked up into his cold, grey eyes. They showed no malice, only a level of intensity she found almost hypnotic and slightly disconcerting, and she knew she would never be able to disobey him. She imagined being almost naked in front of him, with just her blouse covering her pert breasts and rock hard nipples, but perhaps he would tell her to strip further, make her bend over in front of him, fully exposing herself – or perhaps he would arrange for an audience to witness her humiliation. The local W.I., the flower arrangers, or ‘Mothers Union’ ?
How would he spank her? Perhaps draped across his lap while he sat on a dining chair, or even a pew, or in the nursery position, flat on her back, with her legs held high. Perhaps he would strap her to a bed, or a cross, or maybe have her held down on a bed while he reigned blows from above. She was desperate to hide her sexual fantasies, but she sensed that he already knew. She desperately needed the release that only a spanking could bring her. Penetrative sex alone was no longer enough to satisfy her lustful desires and She needed the combination of pleasure and pain to reach the point of ultimate orgasm; her body wracked from the pleasurable spasms, her face contorted with pain from the blows.
He stood quite suddenly, shaking her from her revelry and indicated to the waitresses “The bill please” while he placed a £20 note on the table. “Please finish your tea and scone before you leave, I hate to see waste”, and with that, he swept out of the café leaving her alone and more vulnerable than she had ever known. Had the vicar pulled her over his knee right there and then, soundly spanked her and then had his wicked way, she would not have been able to raise a single protest and would have submitted meekly to his predations. He had forced her to publicly vocalise some of her most innermost desires in front of a room of strangers and this left her feeling more exposed than she had ever felt before.
A waitress approached her with the bill and set it on the
table without a word. With a slightly shaking hand, she placed the note on the
saucer without even glancing at the amount. The waitress bent down to retrieve
the money and whispered to her “I envy you, I wish I had your courage” and
briefly touched her hand in an unexpected act of solidarity. Then, in a louder
voice she said “I’ll just be a minute getting your change” and was gone,
leaving her alone once more. She quickly sipped her tea and consume the last of
the scone, as the conversations around her started to pick up again. She sensed
however, she was still the topic of many conversations, most of which would
continue after she had departed.
A short while later, she left the café, knowing that all
eyes were upon her. She smiled at the waitresses as she crossed over the room
towards the door, receiving a smile and a mouthed “Good luck” from the one who
had served her.
She walked down the road towards the railway station, hoping
the brisk air would cool her ardour, but it was to little effect. She
desperately needed relief and was aware that the damp patch in her knickers
grew almost step by step as her vagina continued to lubricate and she became
more and more turned on. As she arrived onto the platform, her train pulled in
and she gratefully boarded. Mercifully, it was almost empty and she found
herself a seat tucked out of eyeshot of the other passengers.
From her bag, she extracted a small remotely controlled
vibrator. She headed to the small train toilet and locked the door. It was far
too smell and dirty for her to consider masturbating in, but she used the
privacy to pull up her sundress, work her knickers to one side and to insert
the vibrator deep inside her soaking vagina. She quickly adjusted her clothing
and returned to her seat, the remote control carefully secreted in her hand.
She closed her eyes and allowed the motion of the train to
start to set her rhythm. At first she had no need of the additional help from
the vibrator and started to fantasise about what might happen if she were ever
to visit the café with him again. In her mind, he was sat there waiting for
her, at a table in the centre of the room.
The 2 waitresses were with him, ready to assist, and a small audience
was assembled. She imagined arriving and him being displeased that she was late
and keeping everyone waiting. She pictured herself standing like a little girl
being told off in front of the class for not doing her homework while he spoke
in measured tones about how she need to be more punctual, and how a little more
discipline in her life might help to improve her time keeping.
The formalities out of the way, she pictured him motioning
to the waitresses and them approaching her, unzipping her summer dress and
helping her out of it. She saw herself standing there in her thin cotton
knickers and bra, her nipples straining for release. With the dress neatly
draped across a nearby chair, the waitress completed their task and removed the
rest of her underwear. It took little effort to imagine the gusset of her
knickers sticking briefly to her labia, bringing a smile to the waitress
kneeling in front of her and gently pulling down on the garment, as in reality,
her knickers were almost soaking and in danger of leaving a damp path on her
dress and even the train seat.
Stripped and prepared, she fantasised about standing there,
hands on head, while the waitresses cleared space for a sole chair to be placed
in the middle of the café. All the café customers were gazing at her, looking
at her naked body without pity or embarrassment. She could imagine the vicar,
his erection straining against his trousers, while his wife gently stroked her
own moist vagina through her nice, sensible slacks, no doubt warmly
anticipating the show to come.
Once he was seated upon the chair they ushered her over and
positioned her over his knee. One waitress kneeling in front, clasping her
around her shoulders; in a tight hug that was both comforting and restricting. The
other girl knelt behind her and firmly held her ankles in position, her face
just inches from her thighs and vulva. She could imagine the girl inhaling her
aroma and moving in closer, perhaps even briefly kissing her vagina and sliding
her tongue along her moist slit.
Her bottom now positioned and secured, he would rest his
hand upon her rump. He would gently stroke the creamy white skin, and wait for
her to relax a little.
She now pressed the first button on the remote control and
the gently pulsating vibrations started to push her towards some release. As
his hand descended, she pushed the second button, timing the surges with the
imagined spanks. Slowly at first, but building into a rhythm, he was firm and
precise with his blows alternating his spanks onto each buttock, every stroke a
little harder than before. The skin would start to ripple as the strokes got
harder and the pain would be translated into the trance like state she so
desired.
She groaned audibly, hoping the noise of the train would
prevent anyone else from hearing, and squeezed her legs together, increasing
the sensations. She could feel she was nearly there, as stars clouded her
vision and she became dizzy, so much so she knew she no longer needed the
artificial stimulation of the vibrator and cast the remote aside. She could
almost feel the strokes descending as the train lurched along, her eyes screwed
tightly shut and her hands tightly gripping her breasts squeezing her nipples
between the side of her thumb and finger. At last, she came, with a great
swooping orgasm that would have knocked her off her feet had she been stood.
Her arms collapsed to her side and her head rolled against the window as her well
greased vagina expelled the vibrator like a bullet.
Breathing heavily, she opened her eyes and looked around
her. She was still alone and not in anyone’s eyeline, so she continued to enjoy
the experience. She slid her hand under her dress and retrieved the vibrator
from her knickers, dropping it into her bag and safely out of sight. She sat up
a little straighter, adjusting her posture so that the most tender spots were
not making contact with either the seat or her piercing, and she started to
relax as the last pleasure waves began to die away.
A little later as she got off the train, she prayed that he
would never arrange for them to meet in that tea shop again, but of course,
many prayers go unanswered…
