I'm Alan, and I first got to know Val when we were kids, and then mainly because I went to school with her brother, Dave. She was a several years ahead of us and so I never got to know her really well at that time, and anyway she was far too serious for my taste even then. I must admit that I was always a little in awe of her, but perhaps that was because she was concerned about getting on in life and we were only concerned about our next bit of mischief. It was no surprise that when Val got a degree and a career and we just got jobs. Then of course, we all found partners and drifted apart, although Dave and I kept in touch on and off. Until just recently, that is, when we've taken to going ten pin bowling together after my marriage went down the pan.
All three of us are creeping up towards forty now and we've each made what you might expect with our lives. Val is a very successful business woman with her own thriving management consultancy, while Dave works in a local paint factory and I'm in the sales office of an auto parts supplier. She's still serious and driven, but she's wealthy now as well, and Dave is still carefree and, like me, pretty much broke. I'm not sure which I prefer.
It is often said that money doesn't buy happiness and that seems certainly true for Val, for she was also going through a hostile break up of her marriage when I met her again not long ago. She was staying with Dave and his wife, Sarah, for a few weeks verging on a few months while she got her head together and while she found a new place to live. She hadn't taken the breakdown well and seemed even more quiet and withdrawn now than when she was in her teens - but maybe that's just because she felt out of place lodging with her brother.
It was never asked, but because of her sometimes cold demeanour it was always assumed that sex was never high on Val's list of priorities, and many of her friends and family, myself and Dave included, wondered if that had any bearing on her marriage going down the shoot. Perhaps, we speculated, she'd spent too much time making money and not enough making love.
Then one particular Monday I arrived at Dave's for one of our weekly bowling matches only to find his car wasn't in the drive where it should be, and when I rang the door it was answered by Val, which was also most unusual.
'He forgot to tell you, didn't he?'
'He must have.' I agreed. 'What did he forget to tell me?'
'He's had to go in to work tonight, someone went off sick and he was next on the call-out list.'
'Damn.'
'Never mind, come in and have a coffee, I could do with some company. Sarah's gone to visit her mother.'
I was, it seemed, to be a cure for loneliness, but at least I'd be assured of a reasonably intelligent conversation. I don't have any real problem with Val, her heart is in the right place even though she can come across as a bit haughty and aloof. She was always tall as a girl, ending somewhere around 5'9" as an adult, I suppose, and slim, with brown eyes and straight black hair that, over the years, has been expensively cut into all sorts of lengths and styles, but is now cropped quite short. She has a tendency to wear 'power clothes' too - you know what I mean, tailored suits with shoulder pads worn over silk blouses. It's all part of the business woman's façade, but you can see why many people are intimidated. But at least her conversation covers more than just what the latest celebrity airheads are doing.
We chatted for a while about this and that, nothing important, just the world in general and how to set it to rights, that sort of thing. She seemed quite cheerful for once and it was the most animated conversation I'd had with her for a long time. Then, after a couple of coffees, she went into the kitchen to rinse the cups and, because of two or three only partially understood sentences coming through the doorway, I got up and followed, leaning on the corner of a counter to continue our chat.
Now, I can't remember how the conversation got around to it, but at one point Val made a disparaging remark about my dress sense. There was no malice in the remark and I didn't take any offence, but her rump, encased in closely tailored grey slacks, had been attracting my gaze and so without thinking about what I was doing I leaned forward and swatted it by way of reply.
I had intended to just catch it in passing, a sort of swipe of friendly rebuke, but she chose that moment to step backwards in order to wipe down the draining board and my light-hearted slap became a full blooded smack on one of her deliciously shaped buttocks. The moment it connected I knew that it had to have hurt because it stung my hand, and I fully expected her to let rip a torrent of outraged admonishments. I was certainly not expecting the reaction I got.
She gasped with shock and then stood at the sink completely rigid, her bottom clenched, her head thrown back and her back ramrod straight as she hissed with the pain. Then, very quietly and after a good few seconds silence during which I'd tried desperately to think of something apologetic enough to get me off the hook, she bent forward and took hold of the edge of the sink, then looked over her shoulder and simply said.
'Do that again.'
I must have stood for too long gaping with pure astonishment because, still without turning, she repeated it.
'Do it again, Alan, please.'
I still stood wondering if she meant it.
'Please.'
This time it was a little louder, more plaintive.
I did as I was asked, though not quite as hard because I still wasn't certain of what she wanted, and probably also because hurting a woman, even like that, went against the grain.
'No! Hard, like you did before.'
I had to screw up my courage, but as she was pushing her bottom out towards me in obvious invitation I smacked her as hard deliberately as I had previously done by accident. Once again she gasped and went rigid for a few seconds. But then she breathed out slowly.
'That's good. Again'
I did it again, pausing for just a couple of moments before landing my palm hard on her other cheek. She jerked forward and gasped, and then pushed her linen clad rear out once more.
'Don't stop, Alan.' She didn't look around this time. 'I don't know why I do, but I like it.'
I didn't know why, either. I mean, I knew that some people did enjoy being spanked, and I remember reading that executive types go for it more than blue collar folk, but I hadn't expected Val to be into it.
'I don't want to hurt you.'
I felt a surge of excitement at her answer.
'I want you to.' She confessed in a guilty whisper. I could almost feel the humiliation for her.
I'd never been into spanking, not even when my ex and I had been at that newly experimental and adventurous stage of our marriage, but now I was beginning to find it stimulating, and that bothered me a little.
'Are you sure?'
'I'm sure. Just do it.'
There was a note of embarrassed irritation in her voice, and so I just did it. I carried on smacking her very attractive rump just as hard as before, pausing between each one as before, waiting with growing anticipation while she gathered herself and got ready for the next one. I was starting to get a buzz every time my palm landed and she gasped from the sting of it.
Then, after I'd administered another ten or a dozen smacks she put her hand up, shaking her head in a clear signal for me to stop. I stopped, rubbing my tingling hand on the side of my jeans and feeling unexpectedly disappointed.
For a short while she also just stood there, gripping the edge of the sink, her chest heaving and her head hanging, and then without turning she began to unfasten the belt to her slacks, letting it hang loose while she pulled down her zipper and I watched in hopeful disbelief.
'Forgive me, Alan. I need to do this.'
She pushed her slacks over her hips and down until they were around her knees, leaving her bottom clad only in very skimpy and very pale pink silk panties. The pink making me smile as it almost exactly matched the twin spots of colour that the panties partially covered. But she wasn't quite finished, after a moment or two of further hesitation she hooked her thumbs into the waistband and pushed them down too, leaving me gazing at her naked pink bottom. She hesitated, then stepped back a little and bent forward to grip the edge of the sink, parting her legs as far as her slacks would let her and pushing her bottom right out.
'Spank me now, please.' She told me in a hoarse whisper, gazing steadfastly into the sink to avoid any eye contact. 'I need my bare bottom smacking.'
I registered that she'd said 'please' and that she'd used the word 'need', but I was still having difficulty getting my head around the idea of administering pain to give pleasure, even though the prospect of smacking her naked bottom was starting to make my heart pound.
'Tell me if it gets too much, won't you?'
I placed my hand flat on her bottom, feeling the soft firmness of her flesh and the heat coming from her pink cheeks.
'I will, but it won't.' She gave me a tight little smile over her shoulder and then set herself ready. 'I've needed disciplining for a long time.'
I thought that maybe I was starting to understand what was happening. She was beginning to find a desire to submit to someone else and to put herself at their mercy. Something that had never happened in her normal life.
For me it was the other way around. I was forever being given instructions, commands and reprimands, and it would never have occurred to me that someone like Val could possibly yield to me. Perhaps that was why spanking her seemed so alien and yet so exciting. I ran my palm softly over her skin and then drew back for the first smack.
She tensed up and so I paused, making her wait for just a second or so before bringing my hand down hard and sharp on her right cheek. The sound of skin hitting skin and the sound of that quick gasp of pained arousal have to be among the sexiest sounds in the world. She jerked forward as before, her head thrown back and her mouth flung open, and a protective hand instinctively reaching back to protect her tender skin, and then she moved into position again.
'Oh yes, that's good.'
I got unexpected satisfaction from the pain I could hear in her voice. I repeated the action, softly massaging her bottom, feeling the heat generated by the spanking, and then suddenly smacking her hard. Twice more I did it, the delays allowing my stinging palm to recover, and twice more she yelled out loud before thrusting her behind out for more, her hand coming back each momentarily each time before returning to grip tightly onto the sink.
I laid my hand on her bare skin once more, stroking and fondling, letting it wander around her rump, taking longer this time in order to explore further. It was obvious that she was getting turned on, but I had no idea how far she would allow me to push things, and so I let my hand slide down her crack, almost reaching her anus before withdrawing, confident that it could be excused as an accidental intrusion if she objected. But she moaned deep in her throat in clear encouragement.
I smacked her again, as hard as before, but this time I kept my hand on her cheek, moving with her as she gasped and recoiled from the blow, and then massaging and stroking the spot I had just slapped. Once more her hand had come back as if to protect herself, but this time it was little more than a twitch. Arousal was overcoming instinct.
I waited until she had taken hold of the sink edge once again, standing back a little further this time with her arms out before her, and then I let my fingers begin to explore. I think she knew what I was going to do, because as my fingertips went into her crack she went absolutely still, waiting to be touched. This time I investigated further, my fingertips trailing over her puckered little hole as they went by, only to return and press at it very slightly, pretending I was intending to enter just to gauge her reaction. I was more than a little surprised when she pushed back, but that isn't really my thing and I moved on, message received, until I reached her other hole.
Her pussy was absolutely soaking wet with her juices, so slippery that my finger went into her almost of its own accord, sinking knuckle deep into her vagina. She groaned softly, holding herself still and apparently willing to submit to whatever I wanted to do to her, the spanking and her humiliating stare of dress combining to turn her on totally.
'You're wet through.'
It was an unintended exclamation, but she agreed immediately.
'Yes.'
I smacked her hard again, to be rewarded with a groan rather than a gasp, and then I probed her cleft once again, deliberately immediately returning there to gauge her reaction. She tried to spread her thighs, fighting against the restrictions imposed by her lowered slacks and panties. I smiled to myself as my finger sought her pussy.
