When Marianna tried the dress on in front of her full-length, floor to ceiling art deco mirror, the dress wasn’t quite as opaque as she’d feared. It clung to her body like a second skin, with a tenacity that surprised her, and covered up all of the important parts. That was, until she made a move. Then the diamonds quivered, stretched, sparkled and revealed naughty glimpses of skin as they pulled this way and that. As it shifted around her, the dress became a walking advert for indecency. Twisting this way and that at the mirror, she caught a flash of nipple, watched the curve of her breast as it moved softly against the material and if she moved her legs, well, that was another story. Standing with her legs shoulder width apart, the mound of her sex was clearly revealed beneath the delicate triangles. Turning around to view the back, she could see the outline of her toned backside and, if the material was stretched further, the valley between her ass cheeks was clearly revealed. It felt sinfully invigorating. Taking a few practice steps around her bedroom, she smiled as the tiny threads of rope rubbed against her nipples, breasts and sex, and she found that the faster she walked, the more exquisite the sensation. As she moved, the dress slithered in tiny, stimulating whispers all around her body. It would make her acutely aware of her nakedness with every step she took, which was the idea she guessed. Mark Matthews was indeed a master tormentor. No foreplay would be necessary with an outfit such as this, if foreplay had been necessary – which it wasn’t.
When Marianna waltzed back into the lounge, poised and almost regal in stature, Mark felt his breath catch in his throat. The personal shopping assistant, who advised him on all of his purchases from Harrods, had really outdone herself on this occasion. The dress was scandalous, outrageous and damn near perfect to his mind. Each tiny flash of generously tanned flesh served to titillate his senses and the outfit managed to accentuate all of her ample charms, if that were possible. It was a beautiful frame for a near perfect body. He would never tell her that, of course. He needed to keep this one on her toes.
“Not bad, Miss Morreau,” he drawled, cocking his head to one side as he appraised every inch of flesh from top to bottom. “You have made one small error, however. I wonder if you can tell me what it is?”
Marianna’s face took on the appearance of a little girl for a minute, lost and confused. It took her a moment before she remembered where she was and who she was with. Her eyes flared in understanding before she let out a strangled sob. Getting down to her hands and knees once more, she whispered, “I’m sorry, Sir. Please forgive me.” Mark clucked his tongue. She was giving him the ‘lost puppy’ look and it was all he could do to stop from smiling.
“So many indiscretions this evening, Miss Morreau. We really must start addressing them.” He appeared to consider the matter, while his eyes were devouring the way her breasts wobbled slightly as her breathing quickened. His naughty little girl was aroused, so much the better. “Hmm. I have just the thing. How about we go out for a drink? I know a lovely place in the center of London. Fancy a gin and tonic, my dear?”
He stifled another laugh as her face dropped. He wondered if she would ask the question or whether he would just give her ‘the look’ and stifle it in its tracks. He decided that would be a little mean, so he waited expectantly. Marianna’s mouth opened and closed several times and she looked not unlike a goldfish gasping for air. She even got to the point where she raised her finger in the air anxiously and Mark gave her an encouraging smile. “Something on your mind, Marianna?” Her mouth snapped shut. Damn the woman, she was spoiling all his fun. She’d obviously figured out his game. What she didn’t know was that they would have been going out had she been a good girl or not. He wanted to see how she would handle the idea of going out in public not only nearly naked, but with a dress that would slay the average male mortal at ten paces. It was going to be an entertaining evening.
“Before we go, Marianna, I feel that certain aspects of your behavior need to be addressed. So you may place yourself over my knee, hands on the armrest of the sofa. I think we should make that backside take on a pleasant, cherry-red hue before we let the general public lay their eyes on it. What say you, sweetness?”
Marianna had still not come to terms with the fact that she was about to display all of her most intimate charms to any member of the public who might care to look at them, so it took a moment before her eyes connected with his. Her pupils had dilated dramatically and she was running scared. It wouldn’t do her any harm.
“Now, Marianna. I am not a patient man.”
His sharp tone had her rushing to obey. She laid her slight body over his thighs and he felt his trousers crumple as she moved forward. It was probably a good thing. He’d need to look a bit rumpled if he wanted to fit in at the bar they were going to tonight. Splaying her body forward, her cheek rested on the arm of her sofa, tilted to the left and she draped both of her arms either side of her head. He let her rest there for a moment in contemplative silence. Anticipation was the mother of desire, and he would see to it that she had more than her fair share of the fickle creature. She began squirming before he had laid even a single finger upon her. He let her wriggle. It served to arouse him as well. He watched the little, glistening diamonds as they danced sinuously upon her body. His hand itched to slam into her flesh, but he waited patiently. There was a time and place for everything and he valued every last little aspect of control. Another twist of her groin, grinding into his pants made him catch his breath, but still he waited. When she finally cried out, a muffled little gasp of arousal that she could no longer keep inside her, he took pity upon her and slowly slid the pathetic wisps of silk covering her ass cheeks up towards her waist. Her sharp intake of breath was delightful. He could hear her fingernails digging into the soft suede of the sofa and her heels scrape against the carpet. Yes, she was ready for a little pain he thought. She had certainly earned it.
Letting his fingers slide over the soft mounds of her buttocks, he felt the taut muscle there. It was no surprise she was a little apprehensive but he wondered if she would be wet and ready for him. His fingers walked a path down her butt cheeks. Hearing Marianna moan at even that light pressure, he was pretty much assured of the outcome of his exploration, and when his fingers reached the base of her sex they almost skidded. She was drenched. Perhaps it was a good thing that there wouldn’t be much dress to soak. Plunging two fingers forth into her core, he watched as her back strung itself tight as a bow and her hips bucked against him.
He whispered, “You’re ready for my hand, aren’t you Marianna?” There was no immediate response. To make his point clear, his hand grasped an ass cheek with a fearsome grip and squeezed. She gave out a high pitched yelp and whimpered, “Yes, Sir.” Well, that was a bit more like it. He raised his hand in the air, palm facing down and unleashed himself.
The first few smacks were a gentle warm-up both for Marianna’s backside and for his hand. He needed to get a good pattern and rhythm going. The idea was to slowly build up the heat so that each spank was a little bit harder than the last. At the end of this session both his hand and her backside would be sore, but there was no question that she would have the worst end of the deal. To give her credit, she settled into the spanking after the shock of the first two slaps had left her and then raised her buttocks to welcome each new slap as she had been taught. She didn’t move her hands or her head, and she kept her dazzling green eyes wide open even though she couldn’t look at him with them.
Alternating from side to side, he admired the twin peaks of firm flesh and the first spots of colour that had just started to encourage her ass to blush rather beautifully. It would take a good few minutes to develop something half-decent and long lasting, but he was on the right path. Each slap saw a slight quiver as the orbs tried desperately to recover themselves before his hand descended again with another fresh attack.
“I’ve been thinking about your punishment for this evening’s ‘panty’ debacle. As you have already realised, parading you around central London in that dress will be a part of it. It should help you lose that innate sense of propriety that you seem so keen to hold on to. You need to learn that when I lay down the law, I mean for my instructions to be obeyed immediately and without question. Failure to do so will result in penalties. These may be moderate to severe, depending on my choice, but I shall make sure that the lesson has been learned.” As his hand continued to fall, he increased the strength of the stroke. She whimpered in protest, but there was still little movement on her part. “You will be pleased to know that I am going to allow you the privilege of wearing panties to work.” He did not miss the puzzled frown that graced her face. She had every right to be confused but he intended to clear up her misunderstanding quickly. “When you arrive at the office, however, you will bend over and push your panties down so that they rest around your ankles. That way, I will be assured that you are not wearing underwear while you are working under my roof.” Marianna’s jaw dropped in horror and he knew it had nothing to do with the effects of his spanking, even though her backside had just begun to wiggle in the most charming fashion. “You may speak.”
Marianna did the goldfish thing again. He hadn’t slowed the pace of his spanking, so it was going to be a little hard for her to concentrate, but she’d get there in the end. Women were renowned for their multi-tasking skills he’d heard.
“Isn’t there some…” a rather loud squeak ensued as a particularly hard whack cracked down, “health and safety law against that?” Her words tripped over one another in a breathless manner and her squirming increased. He could feel his cock harden painfully as he watched her body undulate backwards and forwards.
“Against what?” He raised an eyebrow out of habit, but was aware she couldn’t see it.
“Against try-ing,” another squeak, “to walk,” a yelp of pain, “in-high-heels-with-your-panties-around- your-ankles!”
“It’s a good job I speak gibberish, Miss Morreau. No, the only laws in my office are those which I set and you will ensure that you walk slowly and carefully within the confines of my office, so as not to injure yourself. If you manage to injure yourself through your own stupidity, you will, of course, be punished.” Slap, slap, slap. The metronome beat of his hand was building in tempo. She had to wait a full minute before she could summon a weak, if faintly sarcastic response to his dictate.
“Obviously.” That was the last thing she said for quite some time.
Purchase A Rough Ride at the following links:
Images courtesy of Christina Mandara
Have a book you like to feature and promote? Drop us an email at editorial@SimplySxy.com to get in touch!
ped spanking their wives was right: men voluntarily gave up the right to lead their households. My generation wasn’t taught how to have a relationship with a woman, because of the rapid social changes that were going on in the 1970’s. I think men conceded their authority in relationships, and the result has been broken families.
d in hand with active imaginations and as an artist, I believe that art is one of the most potent sparks to human imagination. Put art and spanking into the same mix, and pow! It’s an ideal coupling, and spanking/corporal punishment artwork abounds in huge volumes, as even a casual search of Tumblr will demonstrate.
personal level as one with a lifelong fascination for spanking. Illustrating the fantasies that a spanking fetish evokes is both a challenge and a cathartic release. I enjoy attempting to capture a particular moment, or suggest a story with a single image. It might be the husband who came home drunk at 3 am to find his wife waiting with a hairbrush in hand, or a still defiant spankee being sent to fetch a more formidable weapon, or a young lady who planted a Playboy magazine in her brother’s room so she could spy on Mom spanking him for it. To be sincere about art, I think one ought only do what appeals to oneself, and not attempt to cater to the viewer. Those of a similar mindset will respond, and the heck with the rest.