A Strict Seduction (7 page)

‘Maybe you're right,' she finally decided, ‘perhaps this is a bit too showy. Let me show you the next one, then you can decide.'

I didn't have the power to object. I merely nodded my agreement, and followed her with my eyes as she left the room. Damn it, I knew she was playing some strange game, flaunting her lithe young body, parading herself and enjoying my feelings of discomfort and excitement.

I stood up and walked to the drinks cabinet, adjusting my trousers, glancing down to see my cock etched against my clothing. She had to have seen that; there was no way that even a casual glance would have missed my erection. My hands were shaking as I poured myself a neat scotch and gulped down the amber drink. I closed my eyes, trying to block out the image of her breasts, trying to forget the image of her bent over, legs parted and set straight – trying but not succeeding.

‘Paul, Paul!'

I sighed, wondering what new torture she had decided to inflict on me. She was calling from her bedroom, so I went to the bottom of the stairs to find out what she wanted.

‘Could you just have a look at something for me?' she called, a pleading note to her voice.

I kept calm as I climbed the stairs. Her bedroom door was open and I just went in, vowing to keep cool no matter what she wanted. She was standing by her wardrobe, dressed only in a lacy bra and a short red mini-skirt, just as short as the dress had been. The wardrobe door was open, a mad jumble of clothes inside it. She smiled in a good-natured sort of way, that naïve smile she reserved especially for me.

‘Could you reach up there for me?' she asked, pointing to a sports bag lodged on top of the wardrobe. The bra was almost see-through, a frilly black lace thing which lifted and parted her breasts, and barely covered her hardening nipples. It was a tease, but she was acting as though nothing untoward was happening.

‘What's up there?' I said, sighing, looking from her breasts to her eyes, and realising just how much she was enjoying my attentions.

‘I've got a matching skirt and blouse in there, I'd just like to try them on.'

‘How did you get the bag up there?' I complained.

‘Ah… Now I remember,' she exclaimed delightedly. She reached for the vanity chair in front of the dressing table and positioned it by the wardrobe. ‘Jim held the chair while I just shoved things up there,' she told me. ‘I'd forgotten.'

She skipped up onto the chair and I saw how unsteady it was. I did as instructed and bent over to hold it steady while she stretched up and grabbed the bag. She hadn't been lying, the bag was stuck, and as she struggled to pull it away I was treated to another view of long thighs, and this time a flash of black where she'd put a pair of panties on. At long last the bag was free and she stepped down, though not before she'd seen me eyeing up her long legs.

‘Here it is, tell me what you think,' she giggled excitedly.

I watched her unzip the bag and produce a long dark skirt, the longest skirt I'd ever seen her have. Before I could make a comment she unclipped her red mini and let it fall in a bundle around her ankles. She faced me in her underwear, lacy black bra and matching knickers, with not a trace of shame on her face.

‘What the hell do you think you're doing?' I demanded angrily, driven beyond endurance by her brazen exhibitionism.

‘What do you mean?' she asked innocently, her eyes widening.

‘What is it, girl? Are you enjoying this silly game of yours?' I bellowed, unable to control my anger any more.

‘Paul, what is it?'

‘You, that's what it is. Why are you parading yourself like this? Showing off in front of me, are you enjoying embarrassing me? Is that it?'

‘I'm sorry, I hadn't realised this was embarrassing,' she sniffed, pouting sulkily.

‘Don't act the little innocent with me,' I warned her, ‘or I'll have to teach you what happens to girls that misbehave.'

Her eyes seemed to perk up. ‘What does happen to girls that misbehave?' she asked, her mocking tone contrasting to the excitement I saw in her eyes. Her nipples were hard points of flesh, and I couldn't help but notice that her backside was reflected in the mirror behind her.

‘They get punished,' I replied. ‘And parading around in your knickers, or parading around without any knickers on at all, is a sure way to get punished.'

‘But I wasn't parading…' she started to complain.

‘Don't push your luck, madam,' I warned her coldly.

‘I'm sorry,' she replied softly, averting her gaze guiltily.

‘Tell me the truth, were you deliberately leading me on?'

There was a lengthy pause, and then she nodded. ‘I could see you were getting turned on,' she admitted. ‘And I sort of enjoyed it, and the more I did it the more I enjoyed it. I've been very silly, haven't I?'

It was my turn to pause. I knew what I wanted to do then. ‘I think I've every right to punish you for that, don't you?'

‘I suppose so,' she mumbled.

‘How do you propose I do that, young lady?'

She shrugged her shoulders. ‘I don't know, I suppose you deserve to get your own back. How do you think I should be punished?'

I took a deep breath. ‘You deserve a sound spanking,' I told her, exhaling slowly. ‘I think the way to ensure you keep your knickers on and hidden from view is to smack you so hard on the behind that every time you sit down you'll remember.'

There was no surprise on her part, no look of horror. Instead she nodded to herself, as though she understood the justice of it all. ‘Here?' she asked nervously.

‘Yes, here and now.'

I pulled the vanity chair over and sat down, positioning myself so that I was comfortable. The wardrobe door, with its inside mirror, was open, and that in turn was reflected in the mirror on the dressing table. I motioned for her to step forward and she did so, glancing at me nervously.

‘Across my knee, young lady,' I explained, pulling her towards me. She made no reply but knelt across my lap, reaching out to stop herself falling. In seconds her bottom, still clad in thin black panties, was presented for my delectation. She could see herself in the mirror, and the reflection of her backside too, an infinitely receding view of herself ready for punishment.

I raised my hand high and brought it down hard, the slap of skin on skin resounding around the room. My fingers stung lightly, but that was nothing to the sting she must have felt on her pert round behind. She made no sound. Instead she bit her lip and looked up at me appealingly. I raised my hand again and brought it down firmly on her other bottom cheek, gratified to feel her jump when my hand landed so firmly on her taut round buttock. Again and again, six quick strokes in succession, turning her pale and delicate flesh first pink and then a deeper shade of red. Soon Nicole was squirming and moaning, her body responding to the searing heat of punishment that rained down on her posterior.

‘Stand up now,' I commanded, my breath coming hot and fast as I enjoyed my task of punishing Nicole's backside.

‘Oh, it hurts,' she complained, pouting her full red lips.

‘It's supposed to,' I told her gruffly, noting at the same time that her nipples had grown even more erect. I could see that the excitement was still there in her eyes, and I guessed our little session had yet to run its course.

‘But I wasn't such a bad girl,' she protested, pushing out her chest so that she was flaunting herself again.

‘Right, there'll be more for that.'

‘More for what?' she demanded defiantly.

I grabbed her and pushed her against the bed. She fell across it, face down and bottom out. There was a black hairbrush on the dressing table and I picked it up and weighed it in my hand.

‘Please, not that, Paul,' she wailed, her eyes open wide with horror when she saw me with the brush.

‘I'm going to teach you a lesson, young woman,' I told her. In moments her pretty lace panties were around her ankles and her backside, patterned red by my hand, was fully exposed. Her bottom cheeks were slightly parted, and I could see the dark bud of her rear hole and the puffy lips of her sex. She looked delightful, so exposed, so vulnerable, her punished body exuding a kind of raw animal sexuality.

The first impact of the brush on her bottom cheeks echoed around the room, accompanied by her yelp of shock and pain. I reached out and smoothed my hand over her buttocks, able to enjoy the heat that flamed on her skin. She moved back, pushed her bottom towards me, enjoying being touched and caressed on the seat of her punishment. Her correction had yet to end, and soon her cries of pain were a constant refrain as I let go with half a dozen hard blows with the hairbrush. I moved round and smacked her again, each time landing the brush precisely on her lithe young body.

Her behaviour changed subtly. Her cries were deeper, breathier, and she was lifting herself, offering me her rear for every blow. I made sure that I tanned her body evenly, smacking her hard on the buttocks, at the top of the thighs, and even between her thighs.

Her strangled cry of pleasure as she climaxed suddenly brought me to my senses. What had I done? I looked down on her reddened posterior, at her writhing body, at the look of sweet pleasure that marked her face. I had punished her for sure, but much to my surprise she had found pleasure in her pain.

‘Are you all right?' I whispered, letting the brush fall to the floor.

She opened her eyes and looked at me. ‘That was so good,' she sighed. ‘That felt so different; it hurt me but I enjoyed it too. I don't know why…'

‘You'd better get dressed,' I told her. My eyes travelled down over her body, her bra had fallen and her breasts were patterned pink, her rosy nipples so enticing. Her sex was wet and pink where the brush had touched her. As for her buttocks and thighs, they were deep red and had never looked so good.

She nodded. For once she had nothing to say, as though the pain that was smarting on her pretty little backside had robbed her of the power of speech. I watched as she covered herself up, wrapping a red robe tightly around her body, looking quite chaste compared to the way she normally flaunted herself in front of me.

I went downstairs for another drop of scotch and left her standing awkwardly in her room, her eyes lowered and her face quite pale. The drink tasted good, I savoured every drop as I waited for her to come downstairs, knowing she would have found the experience thoroughly disorientating. I wondered whether it had been the first time she'd ever been chastised. Certainly there had been none of the shock and horror I would have expected.

‘Paul…' I turned and saw that she was standing in the doorway, her dark soulful eyes looking at me nervously.

‘Back to say you're sorry?' I asked her sternly.

‘Sorry? But you're the one that punished me,' she whispered softly.

‘Will it be the last time?'

‘It stings,' she complained, neatly avoiding a reply to my question.

‘Show me,' I demanded, setting my tumbler of scotch down on the counter and advancing towards her.

‘But… but I haven't got anything on under this robe,' she told me breathlessly, her face colouring slightly.

‘It's a pity you weren't so modest earlier, isn't it? Now, show me.'

‘No, I won't show you,' she told me defiantly, her lips twisting into a smile. Her eyes were burning again, with an intense glow of excitement.

I strode across the room and grabbed her by the arm, pulling her towards the armchair. She struggled but her heart wasn't in it, her squeals and complaints were empty and passionless. I positioned her beside the armchair and lifted the back of her robe, exposing her beautiful backside, which was tanned a deep pink that contrasted with the white skin of her thighs. I could still make out my handprints on her flesh, but stronger than that was the array of oval marks that the hairbrush had imprinted. I stroked her buttocks and she winced, her punished flesh warm to my touch.

‘It's a shame that one session hasn't been enough,' I told her, shaking my head sadly.

‘What do you mean, Paul?' she asked, her eyes brimming with tears.

‘I mean that your wilful behaviour hasn't changed.'

‘You can't mean…'

I knelt down and slipped her dainty slipper from her left foot and then straightened up. She gave a wide-eyed look of horror when I flexed the rubber sole, testing its mettle before deciding it was a good enough paddle for her posterior.

‘Ten strokes of this,' I explained, ‘and any nonsense and you'll get extra.'

She bit her lip and nodded, then, without prompting, she bent over the thick padded arm of the chair. Her position was perfect, backside nice and round, pink and inviting, her thighs very straight, her breasts rubbing softly against the seat of the chair. I raised the slipper and brought it down swiftly, retribution laid against her pert young buttocks. She tried hard not to cry out as the first smack burned on her behind. I touched her, felt the heat of impact with the tips of my fingers. The second and third strokes were on the same buttock, spreading that heat evenly. The fourth stroke I switched target, and when it landed heavily on her right bottom cheek she let out a howl that goaded me on for strokes five and six.