« Spanking Stories

« Charlotte, Amelia, Imogen and Takisha


9. Behave

Spanking Story


Her date's stern tone makes a discipline-hungry girl horny

«Beginning Part 10»

"Do you like Italian?", Nick asked.

Impressed by the confident man on her phone, Amelia said, "Yes." Every girl liked Italian and every girl liked to be asked.

He'd told her about meeting David in the restaurant. She hadn't let on that Charlotte had given her a heads up. Her friend's strong endorsement and his well-timed call had put him way ahead already.

It had been late when Charlotte had messaged her last night. She hadn't expected Nick to call until tonight. All day her expectations had built, despite trying to keep them in check. He might not call. She'd decided a late call would be a bad sign. An early call would show he was keen and respectful.

She'd left work on time, not wanting to be in transit if he called. She'd been home only thirty minutes when her phone had rung at 7pm, on the dot. Guessing who it would be and pleased by his timing, she'd beamed an enormous smile as she'd answered.

"We could try this on the phone," he said, "but it would be more enjoyable over a meal. How about tomorrow night?"

"What time?"

"9pm, I'll message the address and map."

His assertiveness had her attention. Shivers of pleasure darted down her spine. He must have had a list of restaurant options in case she didn't like Italian, because the promised message arrived five seconds later with a map of her future attached.

He hadn't seen a picture of her, at least she didn't think so, but she already knew he was hot and handsome because Charlotte's message had ended, 'Say yes or I'll have to take a lover!!!'

Coming off the phone, Nick grinned. Amelia had been courteous, friendly and responsive. Not a pushover, but amiable. He'd expected false negotiations over the day to suggest she had a busy life. Her swift agreement had almost thrown him. He'd pounced on it, declared 9pm and sealed the deal. A hot date in hand, he was proud of his call and liked her more already. Now he had a mellifluous voice to go with her name. He could also add unambiguous, smart, well-mannered and sweet-sounding to her growing list of attributes.

When Amelia arrived at ten minutes before nine, Cantina Bello was full, with a queue out the door. She bypassed the queue and asked the greeter for Nick. Wooden chairs, decorated tables, and back-to-back booths down the center of the room gave a rustic feel to the Italian restaurant.

She knew it was him because he stood from the booth as she approached with the greeter. Charlotte hadn't overplayed his looks. A frisson of pleasure fluttered through her sex. She watched his delight as her slim curves approached. In black wax coated jeans, a relaxed white blouse and pink cardigan, she'd been going for a normal girl look, but hot as hell. His burning gaze told her she'd accomplished it.

"Amelia, it's nice to meet you."

As he spoke her name, her insides sucked her breath away. Recovering, she leaned forward, kissed him on the cheek and said, "Thank you for inviting me."

He sat as she did and grabbed the menu from the greeter, grateful for something to hold on to. Her slim hips and toned legs tucked away, he followed her long blond hair as it flowed over her bright pink cardigan. A subtle rhodium chain with crystals in the shape of a feather fell at her collarbone, highlighting pure perfection.

Amelia glanced over her menu at him and smiled. He was looking at her. In the weeks since her caning, she hadn't dated or gone out once. She'd enjoyed a period of reflection. In the first week, she'd admired her cane marks all the time. The red ridges had hurt less each day, and her pride had risen. She'd resolved to stay a good girl and accept punishment when she needed it. It was a new Amelia, one she wasn't yet sure how to put into practise. She'd intended her blouse and cardigan to transmit a good girl image, her wax coated jeans adding a sexy edge. It looked like she'd pulled it off.

She studied him. His black jeans and white shirt were very male. They contained a hard chest and muscular arms. She'd peeked a look at his tight bum as he'd sat down. His dark Mediterranean looks suited the restaurant. She liked him, and she hadn't even read the menu yet.

He said, "You look good. Do you get to dress down for work?"

The frank compliment allowed her to reveal she was a Fashion Buyer without being boring. Her degree in Fashion Merchandizing had got her hired as an associate buyer. When her boss had taken another job, she'd stepped up and never looked back, traveling, buying and ensuring the correct manufacturing of pieces she picked.

"What would you pick for me?" he asked.

"You're not my target audience," she grinned. "I buy for fashion conscious girls."

Over a crisp white Frascati, he told her of his Portuguese heritage and made commodities trading sound exciting. They were quiet for a while when their food arrived. She craved his tagliatelle until she smelled her traditional spaghetti bolognese.

"I've never known a girl to order spaghetti on a date," he said. "And I've never known a girl to eat it with such incredible elegance. You're beautiful."

The last bit had slipped out. His face fell.

It was a lovely compliment. Delighted she could disturb him, she smiled and thanked him. Her manners were crucial to her tonight. The conversation flowed through money and travel to friends. Only when the restaurant had emptied, did she realize how absorbed she'd been.

Since Charlotte's revelation, she'd judged men from a fresh perspective. Even at work she'd spotted firm undertones in the way some men spoke. Nick had all the indications. It made it hard to be a good girl. She'd often slept with men on a first date, but if Nick was a good man, he wouldn't let it happen tonight. Conflicted, she hoped he'd be strong for both of them.

Leaving the restaurant together, he took her hand. On the sidewalk, he turned into her and stroked her cheek. Leaning in, he turned the stroke into a kiss. Fleeting at first, his kiss deepened as she softened against him. He tasted of pasta, coffee and strength. The underlying rich aroma of firm control dampened her sex. Under her wax coated jeans, her lucky white cotton string dampened with desire as he strengthened his kiss.

She didn't want to give in, but her sex was refusing to accept defeat. It heated her core and hardened her nipples.

When he broke away, he whispered, "I've wanted to do that all night."

"Do it again, please" she asked, smiling and trying not to beg.

He stroked her other cheek and pulled her in. His firm lips landed and locked tight, directing liquid desire into her panties. After a minute or a hundred, he returned her tongue and said, "I like you. Are you a good girl?"

Fire rammed through her sex. She wanted to be. She was trying so hard, but he was making it impossible. Visions of her bare bottom patterned in punishment flashed through her mind. It strengthened her courage. "Your kisses are leading me astray."

"Then I must not turn you into a bad girl, tonight."

The emphasis on tonight made it clear he had every intention of turning her into a bad girl as soon as possible.

He fixed her with a stern look. A hard edge to his voice, he said, "Behave."

Hot native heat flooded her sex and a rod of steel respect thrust down her spine. She must obey him. There was no doubt she would sleep with him soon. Lowering her head, she said, "I will."

Turning to the taxi rank, only strong enough to leave because he'd commanded it, her conflicted sex poured pride into her panties at her obedience. As she opened the back door of the first car in line, he called, "The National Photo Gallery, tomorrow morning, 10am."

"I'll be there," she called back, one leg in the taxi, the other begging to return.

At home, she peeling off her wax coated jeans, flung her blouse in the laundry and stripped off her bra. Her lucky string stayed on. It had earned its rightful place tonight. Their next date was less than ten hours away. She turned off all the lights in her apartment and lay on her cool white sheet, hot with anticipation.

Everything he'd said or done had carried an underlying firmness. She slid her hand into her panties. As she circled her willing clit, his strict command replayed over and over in her mind. He demanded she 'Behave' with increasing dominance and she replied with ever greater obedience.

Delicious flames licked at her sex. 'I must not turn you into a bad girl, tonight' flashed across her mind. In her imagination, she became a terrible girl who'd let him down. He bent her over his knee without debate, lectured her and delivered a fierce spanking, burning fiery redness into her soft cheeks as molten heat poured into her sex. His spanks induced a stupendous stream of orgasms. She came hard and bucked on the bed as intense torment transcended into waves of pleasure and ultimate bliss.

Rolling onto her front, she gave herself a hard spank on her bare bum. The delicious sting spurred her imagination. Under her body, her finger worked her clit against the bed. Raising her bottom, she picturing herself getting a sound thrashing. Her sex twisted and exploded, plunging her into the hardest flow of orgasms her hand had ever delivered.

Lying exhausted, his kiss on her lips and his touch on her cheek, she begged every ounce of good luck to direct her way. He must be the man she needed. He'd been too perfect not to be. But words weren't actions. He must step up and punish her hard when she deserved it. She needed him to be as tough as he sounded. If he was the man she imagined, he would deliver her discipline. Tomorrow she would push his buttons and let the pieces fall as they may.