The Birthday Wish by
Erica Stauch, M/f spanking
To celebrate the occasion,
Carlie's husband Philip presents his aroused and fearful
submissive to his good friend Riley for an evening of spanking
and sex.
Copyright (c) 2005, all rights reserved, not for sale
Philip took my hand, the way he does when he opens
the car door for me. I kept my head bowed, as per the rules in
our game, but I couldn’t help turning my eyes up to look at
him. The buttons of his shirt dotted a trail to his fine
leather belt. Glint of the street light on the buckle. And the
smell of his cologne, subtle pulses of smoky sweetness drifting
to me.
“I expect you to be on your best behavior,” he said,
his voice deep, always intimate. His hands touched my collar,
straightened it, pressed it flat. “You know I love you in this
dress,” he said. And I love to wear it for him, this tight-waisted,
flouncy jumper which he often says reminds him of a schoolgirl.
It drapes almost to my ankles. And I’d worn the proper shoes:
my suede Mary Jane’s. “And underneath? What did you wear for
me?”
I had to swallow to get the words out. “White
cotton panties… the stockings with the lace that you like.”
“That’s my girl.” He cupped my chin in his hand,
and now I was allowed to look at him. Those deep brown eyes
which always seemed to be silently deposing me, studying me,
devising new ways to affect me. His hair still looked a little
wet from his shower and held a beautiful dark luster. But his
eyes, something brewing behind them, always, to take me by
surprise, no doubt. “Now, you’re not to speak unless you are
spoken to. Riley knows what he can expect from you, and you
will fulfill his expectations. Won’t you, my little slave?”
I managed a quick nod. I could feel the blood
pulsing in my ear.
We walked up the brick drive without talking.
Philip carried with him our ‘bag of tricks’ a beautiful black
leather medical bag in which he kept his favorite instruments
and toys for use upon me. We stopped below the soft glow of the
porch light.
“Anything
you’d like to ask or say before I ring the bell?”
“No, Philip,” I replied quietly.
A strange din came over me. Flash of sanity.
Flash of panic. This was crazy. And I wanted it! I’d
anticipated this day, savored the threats, the promises, for
months. Now it was happening.
And was I
afraid?
Yes.
But
wasn’t that part of the thrill? Knowing that you’re safe, with
someone who cares for you and would let no harm befall you, yet
feeling that fear, achieving the fear all the same.
Fear.
The kind that chills the skin and makes the heart seem to bruise
against your ribcage. An almost impossible ascension to attain
with someone you love. But Philip has always had that gift, the
ability to make me tremble. And I love the way he uses it, time
after time.
Click of the door latch. The front door opened, an
almost blinding light in contrast to the darkness outside. My
eyes dashed downward to the gleam on the tile of the foyer, only
in part because the rules of the game dictated that I do so.
“Hey,
Phil.”
It was
Riley, Philip’s friend from work. I knew his voice – that soft,
low rumble – from our little flirtations on the phone. I looked
at his shoes, nearly twice the size of mine. To look directly
at his face right then would have been torturous, knowing that
he and Philip had talked, knowing what I was there for.
Starting
to feel the ache of a blush coming to my face.
He
ushered us in. The door closed and latched behind us. Dull
heavy thump of Riley’s shoes on the tile, as opposed to the
lighter tap of Philip’s and the still lighter scuffle and click
of mine.
Philip is
a formidable man at 6’3” but Riley is huge. Nearly seven feet
tall. They don’t get much bigger outside of professional
sports. I could feel his size in mere presence as we walked
next to him. A novelty man; pure mind candy to a submissive
girl like me. This guy could pick me up and shake me out like a
rug if he wanted to.
I’d only
met him a couple of times in person; I wanted to experience him
so badly.
And
Philip wanted to see it.
A long,
thin mirror hung on the wall of the foyer and I stopped for a
moment. Philip would allow me this. Psyche time. Riley walked
on. I looked into the reflection as Philip stood behind me;
looking into my own black eyes, with their thick, almost brushy
lashes which Philip often said added a bewitching and child-like
quality to my face. My cheeks, even my lips, seemed flushed
with color. “You look beautiful,” Philip said, then pulled my
dark brown hair back from my shoulder and kissed my ear.
“You’ll do fine.”
The
furniture in Riley’s living room was simple: plump cushioned
couch and ficus against a now darkened view of the ocean, coffee
table on a white fleece rug. Soft lighting. Vivaldi playing
faintly in the background.
Philip
set the leather bag down on the polished walnut dining table in
the corner.
Riley
offered wine.
I waited
until Philip put his hands on my shoulders and spoke into my
ear. “You may answer. Raise your eyes and look at our host.
Be respectful.”
So
difficult. So peculiar. As much as I wanted to look at Riley,
it almost hurt to do it. But I managed it, flashing glimpses
upward to the colossus of him.
Riley
took a room when he entered it, but not just because of his
height. He had that something. Almost delicate features for
such a large man, with strong, deep-set eyes. He kept his head
cleanly shaved, adding to the drama of his presence. And his
face held an uncompromising expression, always, even when
softened by a smile.
I
accepted the wine. Quickly. A white Bordeaux, great for
soothing the nerves. We drained the bottle. Then…
“Let’s
not belabor the evening with awkward silence.” Philip reached
around from behind me and began to unbutton the straps to my
jumper. I couldn’t help the little gasp. He scolded me in that
dark, gentle tone, “Now, you know the clothes were merely
incidental, a travel necessity.” I could feel my nipples shrink
tight as the hair stiffened at my nape. My straps fell behind
me, then the bib. Then he unbuttoned the waist. “We want Riley
to see how lovely you are, don’t we?”
Riley
just stood there, didn’t move. But I could see the effect in
the crotch of his jeans, the thickening beneath his zipper.
“Step
out,” Philip urged me with a pat to the seat of my panties as he
pulled away my skirt, which had fallen to a puddle around my
feet. He took my blouse next, guided my hands to that place
where they belong when we play these games: joined at the base
of my spine, shoulders back. “Wait.” And he opened the leather
bag, took out the long white gloves, helped my hands into them.
“I love her in white,” he said to Riley. “Like my naughty
little angel.”
Riley
groaned something low in his throat. I was dying for him to
touch me. My breasts heaved at the edge of the lace on my bra
and when he finally took one of them in his hand, it looked so
small against his palm. He lifted the weight of it until the
nipple popped over the lace, then he stroked the nipple with his
thumb.
“You
like?”
“Yes.
Very much.”
The two
men spoke over me as adults would speak over the presence of a
child or a pet. I felt weak. My heart trilled.
“Now,
show our host your appreciation,” Philip said.
I felt
drunk with it all, already. I fell to my knees on the stone
hard tile. I couldn’t believe I was doing this, that my husband
was actually sharing me with one of his friends. But of all of
Philip’s friends, Riley was the one who could handle it. Cool
and discrete. Always grounded. He had the right frame of mind
for this kind of play.
The smell
of the leather of his belt had its affect as I unfastened his
jeans and laid them open. His cock strained, painfully twisted
beneath his briefs, as though bound, and when I freed it with my
hands it sprung upright, its head shiny and pink. “Take it in
your mouth. That’s it,” Philip coached. “Show him how much you
love it.”
His flesh
seemed to bend to the form of my throat even though it was so
inflated. Such soft skin against my tongue. I had to tilt my
face upward to reach him. And the smell of him, that man smell,
as I opened my throat and stretched myself tall to push my nose
all the way down to his tickly pubic hair. I could feel his
scrotum against my chin.
“Good
girl,” Philip instructed. “Now, don’t make him come. Not yet.”
I stopped
the long, slow forward lunges of my mouth only when that essence
of saltiness touched my tastebuds.
Riley
bent his cock back into his briefs, like caging a suffering
animal.
I turned
on my knees to give Philip the same treatment, but he stopped
me. “Not yet.” Something churning in that mind of his. I
stood in response to his gentle command.
“Now
Riley,” Philip said. “You have to establish yourself as a
proper master or she’ll never really respect you.” Philip
turned one of the kitchen chairs around so that its tall,
straight back faced the table. “You’re going to have to punish
her.” Now my heart was racing. “Have you ever spanked a woman
before?”
Riley
laughed, the way people do in awkward situations. “No.”
“Then
this will be a new kind of fun for you.” Philip directed Riley
to sit in the chair. I still looked at the floor. The mere
humiliation, the bittersweet torture of it all, made tears well
in my eyes. I could see him in my periphery. So strong. So
big. “Now, take her over you knee.” Riley stuffed his hands
under my armpits and lifted me up, then draped me across his
lap. His thighs were like Sequoia trunks beneath me. His hand
almost covered the entire span of the small of my back when he
rested it there. Philip squatted just long enough to tease me,
“Now you really do look like a little girl.”
He
instructed Riley to pull down my panties and I felt my heart
pound in my sex. “It might help if you imagine she’s done
something bad,” Philip instructed. “Maybe she just broke the
dishes in a tantrum or she keyed your car—”
“Oh, you
don’t want me to imagine that.”
“Yes we
do,” Philip said. We. Including me. It felt like a
ball was stuck in my throat as he squatted down so that I could
see his face again. “We want this to hurt,” he taunted me. “We
want the warmth to last all evening so that even as we’re
fucking her,” he took a few strands of my hair around his
fingers, “she’ll think about who’s in charge.”
Philip
stayed there now, slipped his hand beneath the lace at my breast
and toyed the nipple between his fingertips.
The first
spank came abruptly, like a thunderclap, then the next, then the
next. Nice and firm and solid. “Bad girl!” I heard Riley say
under his breath as his huge hand cuffed the curve of my rump
yet again. Softly agonizing bliss of confusion. I kicked and
squirmed as he held me in place, his hand thundering down again
and again, a hot stinging pain which communicated straight to
that secret place inside me. Philip told him to spank my hand
when I tried to cover my bottom, and it exploded with pain as
well, as though someone pressed a hot coal in it. I kissed it
until it cooled.
And I
started to cry; I achieved it, that state of feeling softened
and relaxed enough to allow the tears to really flow. Philip
kissed my face when he saw them, “That’s my baby,” then
motioned for Riley to stop. He stood me up, but not before
Philip had a chance to show Riley the magic. I felt Philips
fingertips slip between my legs to touch the slickness which
felt both warm and icy on my upper thighs. “See? Now, she’s
ready.”
Philip
cuddled me for a moment, until the trembling from my crying went
away, and I melted against the strength in his shoulder, pushing
my pelvis close to feel the hardness that I knew was there
waiting for me. That delicious twist of hardness.
He kissed
my eyes. Smiled. But there was a storm brewing behind it. I
knew what was coming and I loved these moments.
Philip
swept his arm over the walnut table and our bag of tricks
spilled onto the floor. Paddles, anal toys, silver speculum,
all a mess on the tile. Then he plonked my butt up onto the
cold tabletop and pushed me back. “Now, this is the best
part.” He yanked my panties roughly down and off as I lay
splashed back in my tangled hair on the tabletop. He popped the
front latch on my bra to free my breasts, pushed my legs open
wide. “Come, feel this.”
Riley put
his hand, as directed, between my legs and I felt his thick
finger push inside me. My sex clamped down reflexively and I
shuddered.
A look
came over Riley’s face.
“Strong,
huh? Have you ever felt that kind of control?”
“Unbelievable.”
“It’s
from the games and the spankings,” Philip explained, quite
analytically. One wouldn’t have known he was freeing his cock
from his pants at that very same moment. “She spasms and comes
so much that her muscles have developed an amazing flex.” He
stabbed his penis into me right then with a force of someone
breaking a barrier. My back arched in response and my sex
slurped him in. I rolled my pelvis on the table, (this cool,
hard table against the tingling heat on my ass) bucking and
grinding as though my body ruled my mind. The hungry little
beast between my legs clutched and strangled against his
hardness, squeezing all my pleasure points against him so that
the contours of his cock stroked them all at once, like the
strumming of an instrument as he thumped me.
His belt
buckle tinkled lightly with his thrusts. I could feel his
shirttails against my legs. And he jammed me with his cock,
standing over me, the veins bulging beneath the gloss of sweat
at his temples, his eyes dark with tempest.
Riley
moved to pin my hands when I grabbed for Philips shirt. I knew
I wasn’t allowed to touch, but I wanted to touch him so badly.
Philip
finished in deep, cruel thrusts that exploded pleasure in my
body and made my back arch its deepest.
But I
knew I was in trouble.
“Down
from the table!”
I climbed
down.
Philip
spoke to Riley’s confusion. “She knows she’s not allowed to
touch.” Philip fastened his trousers back together… and took
out his belt. “You know what to do, Carlie.”
My bottom
still stung from Riley’s spanking; I clutched my poor rump
cheeks as I watched Philip fold the belt over onto itself in his
hand. “Now,” he said.
New,
stabbing feeling in my belly -- and my sex. I let my bra drop
into my hands, placed it on a chair, bent over the table as I
knew was required, face and hands pressed again the smooth
polished surface. Bead of my wetness moving slowly down my
inner thighs. “I knew one spanking wouldn’t be enough for you,”
he said. Riley took hold of my wrists again when Philip
instructed it, though I could feel a reticence in him, probably
from the look on my face. I tried not to show it: that fear
again. I could feel the largeness in my eyes, the quivering in
my lips that I couldn’t control.
“Her
bottom’s still pretty rosy,” Riley commented.
I watched
Philip. He seemed to exchange something silently with Riley, a
reassurance maybe. Then he pulled back the belt. “Look at me,
Carlie,” Philip said. “I want you to watch it happen. Watch
what Daddy’s about to do to you.” And he brought it down.
The belt
snapped strips of flame across my skin, curling around my hips,
crossing and crossing again. I drew my bottom tight, twisted my
hips, even tapped my little Mary Jane’s against the floor to
weather it. He stopped relatively quickly, before I started to
cry again.
Then, the
tender moment, stroking my hair away from my ear, the soft kiss
on the back of my shoulder. “Now, show me that you’re sorry.”
I went to
my knees again, opened his trousers which were filled to
capacity with new hardness. My own scent mingled with his on
his skin. I could taste the flavor of my own fluid as I took
him deep in my mouth, encircled him snugly in the ring of my
lips, stroking in long back strokes, drawing with a suction that
hollowed my cheeks and made my jaw muscles ache. He wouldn’t
come again, not so quickly, but I knew by the way he seemed to
lean back in languid pleasure that I was melting him. “Good
girl,” he smiled, then snapped his fingers for me to stand.
Now it
was Riley’s turn. He stepped near to me, so deliciously tall.
“After that whipping she’ll be more than ready for you,” Philip
remarked with a pinch to my rump cheek that made me jump.
Riley
looked down on me with a softness I’d never seen in his eyes
before. His face was almost red with desire, I could see his
pulse in his throat and the heaviness of his breath, but he
looked at me with pure sweetness.
“You
really think you’re ready for me?” he said, that deep voice,
like a spell on me. I bit my lip, nodded. And he lifted me
back up onto the table.
His cock
was very stiff; I felt no bend or give in it at all as he swiped
the soft, wide head along the line of my lips to wet it. He
leaned over me, close. Such smooth skin. Then I felt him push
inside me. Slow, warm, gentle expansion, pressing deep inside
my belly. My stretched little sex could barely cope. He
cradled me in his arms as he moved, forcing my legs open very
wide, pressing himself inside me all the way to the hairy base.
My bottom stung from the belt, I could feel his pubic hairs,
tiny prickles against the lower welts as his body size forced my
knees almost up to my chest. And I could feel the soft touch of
his scrotum as he rocked me so tenderly.
The
perfect contrast: Philip’s sharp, commanding manner verses
Riley’s soothing charm.
We went
back and forth like that in fun little variations: Philip’s
cock, then Riley’s, then over the knee or the table again. They
even broke out the anal wand, marveling aloud at how my shy
little pucker seemed to want to shrink away when they pulled my
rounded cheeks apart, and how my anus seemed to fight the slim
little probe as they pressed it ever so slowly inside. I lay
open-mouthed against the tabletop as they did this, basking in
this glorious invasion.
By the
time it was over I felt sleepy, and both Philip’s and Riley’s
cocks were as red and raw as my rump.
Philip
didn’t bother to dress me. It was 3 a.m. He carried me out
with my head on his shoulder and my legs wrapped around his
waist. Still wearing the long white gloves and the lacy white
stockings and my little Mary Jane shoes.
Delightfully spent.
Philip
stopped by the door to say good-bye.
Riley
leaned down low and smiled. “Next time I see your teacakes at
the office party I’ll savor them with a new fondness,” he said,
and kissed my cheek.
“Happy
Birthday, Carlie.”
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