Authors: Georgia Harries
French Lessons (9 page)
“Oh
Harry ... I do so want to be a very, very bad girl....” Tamara grew ferocious
with desire. Harry’s fingers worked her up to a hot wetness. It was a searing
need she had never felt before. He looked at her intensely, stilled by her
frankest confession.
“Really?”
“Yes,”
she slid to her side to lie square on with him. Fired with confidence, she
grabbed his hand and placed it firmly on her left buttock.
Tamara
wriggled herself free from her panties in desperation. She turned her back to
Harry and snuggled spoon–like into him. His hand caressed her bottom
roughly as his tongue played with her neck and ears, muttering filthy promises
in the dark still night. His strong, large hand played with each buttock in
turn. Then moving slightly away from her, for the first time ever, he smacked
Tamara’s bottom. Hard and crisp, his palm met one buttock then the other.
Tamara gasped and winced slightly, then bent herself further double and offered
her neat bottom up towards him for more.
There were half a dozen more smacks, the sounds echoing in the night
winds, neither of them caring too much who might hear. The final sore smack was
accompanied by a quietly but firmly spoken threat. A threat of what Tamara
prayed would happen yet tonight in their cabin below. With his hand clasped to
his wife’s warm buttock, he spoke out loud.
“You
have been the naughtiest girl imaginable. It’s high time you went over my knee
for a bare bottomed spanking you will never forget, young lady.”
Tamara
closed her eyes and allowed the warmest fluttering orgasm to fill her belly.
Turning to face her husband, her face flushed and beaded with sweat, she gave
him a shy smile. Harry was enraptured as never before.
“So
my naughty little one,” he chided gently. “Reckon you might need some more?
Your lovely bottom doesn’t feel quite hot enough to me...” he stroked it
gently.
Shaking
a little, Tamara rose to rest on her elbow. She was still quivering from the
contractions of pleasure.
“I
need you to spank me, Harry. I’ve never had it before. I want you to show me.
Let me feel your love and your hand. Over your knee. Will you please?”
Harry
smiled slowly. Of all things he had not anticipated on this truly memorable
holiday, this was surely the most surprising.
It
was a fantasy Tamara had not even realised she harboured, now coming closer to
reality. Harry grinned. How wonderful that she felt so safe and loved by him,
she could share these inner needs.
“Well,
I reckon it’s no less than you deserve, Tamara Kelly–Walker. After your
disgraceful behaviour right out here on top deck. Anyone could have caught us,
you dirty little minx.” Harry whispered loudly as his tongue dug sharp in her
ear. “There’s only way to deal with naughty little girls. You’ve asked for it.
You’re going over my knee for a spanking that’ll burn your backside raw. No
arguments.”
“Oh
yes please, Harry! I’ve been so very bad...” Tamara murmured, smiling. Her
heart still beating fast from the orgasm, she cupped his face in her hands and
stared into his eyes. “I think it’s my turn to be sent to your bureau. Don’t
you?”
Pulling
her tight into him, Harry reached behind and gripped each cheek of her bare
bottom hard. Her skirt was raised to her waist and she curled a leg up and over
his thigh. They allowed each other one more lingering kiss, before Harry drew
away roughly with a broad grin.
“You
have one minute to get yourself below deck and to my bureau. Since you have no
panties on, you naughty girl, you will stand in the corner and lift your skirt
up ready for me. I’ll be down there shortly and we can deal with your
punishment. If you don’t do exactly as I say, you’ll be feeling something an
awful lot harder than my hand across your beautiful bottom. Perfect it might
be, but maybe it needs a touch of leather to correct your unseemly behaviour...”
With
a delicious thrill of elation, Tamara got up from the sofa. Her skirt slid
elegantly to her knees. The dampness between her legs made her feel calm and
relaxed all over. Without another word, she turned and descended slowly to
lower deck. To let a whole new chapter of her marriage, begin in earnest.
Retrieving her panties from the floor, Harry fondled them, relishing the very
thought of what the remainder of this night might bring.
Oblivious
in her cabin as Tamara walked swiftly past it, Eleanor lay on her side reading
a romantic novel. Outside, the wind was really getting up. It was the beginning
of a summer night–storm. The sea was choppy and the yacht’s mast swayed
heavily in the moonlight, as clouds raced by. Eleanor loved it when the weather
turned wilder in Monaco bay, watching it stir the waters from the cosiness of
her cabin. Her hand drifted occasionally inside her pink pyjamas to her bottom,
tingling a little less by the minute. She could barely wait for tomorrow, to
see Charlie again. Over and over again, she thought long about the brisk
spanking he had given her. That wonderful woozy feeling of helplessness she had
felt, lying helpless and trapped across his lap. And then the sensational
feeling of safety and desire she had felt sitting up on his knee, their mouths
locked and their tongues touching. What she really wanted was to feel his hand
punish her down there, with nothing between his hard palm and her soft skin.
Smiling, she cuddled her silky pillow and concentrated on the faint throb in
her bottom. Never again did Eleanor want to risk Daddy’s wrath with a spanking.
But Charlie, she decided, could take her over his knee whenever he liked.
In
his penthouse suite high above the harbour, Charlie gazed down to the yacht.
The water was starting to simmer as the stiff Mediterranean winds got up. A
storm would be a thrill to watch from this height. What a perfect end to the
day after all. Charlie too was planning tomorrow. Having spanked Eleanor and
then comforted her, he knew he had made her his own. He tried to foresee
Eleanor’s reaction when he would without doubt in the near future, pull down
her knickers for the task. Such an intimacy would bind them for good, he
reckoned. He could just make out Harry wander below deck behind Tamara, as
though they were playing chase. It was clear to all who saw them that they were
meant for one another. With all his heart, Charlie hoped the same were true for
him and Eleanor.
The porthole from Eleanor’s cabin glowed
with soft lamplight. He pictured her, the little blonde beauty that she was. As
the storm continued to brew, he knew she was safe – though very warm
bottomed – and firmly taught the loving lessons that would stand them all
in the finest stead.
He
lit a cigarette and leaned out over the balcony, feeling the strong winds in
his face as heavy drops of rain began to fall. The full moon shone like a child’s
drawing over Monaco bay. Dark grey clouds skirted over it, breaking its beams
of light on the water.
Charlie
had never felt so content. It seemed as though he and Harry Walker had each
found the right women for their hearts and souls. Had he been anywhere near the
port side of the lower deck of the Eleanor–Jane at that very moment, he
might have been even more convinced. From Harry Walker’s bureau, Charlie
Hetherington might have heard long minutes of sharp rhythmic slapping sounds,
punctuated by soft, throaty female gasps and stern male scoldings. Leaving no
doubt that each man had also found just the right woman for the palm of his
hand.
The End.
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This book is intended for adults only. Spanking and other
sexual activities represented in this book are fantasies only, intended for
adults. Nothing in this book should be interpreted as advocating any
non-consensual spanking activity or the spanking of minors.