Page 7 of Wild Mustang Security Firm

Mandy couldn’t believe when he spanked her. This was not some half-assed erotic spanking from some wimpy-wristed boy. This was a man taking her to task as he’d promised. She had often enjoyed a bit of slap and tickle with other boyfriends. This wasn’t that, yet she could feel her arousal increasing.

John’s hand warmed her seat quickly. The heat factor wasn’t being helped by her jeans, keeping it contained. Mandy struggled and squirmed, but John had her firmly under hiscontrol, the hand not actively spanking her, holding her in place. She began to kick her legs, trying to somehow loosen his hold.

“That’s enough, Mandy,” he said as laid down a steady rhythm of blows to her backside. “I warned you, but instead of choosing to behave, you decided kicking me was a better option. I mean to correct the error in your reasoning.”

She bucked again and felt John’s legs open. She brought her legs down, so they could almost reach the floor. Just as she realized she wasn’t quite tall enough, his outer leg closed on the back of hers, neatly trapping her as he adjusted her on his one knee and resumed her spanking. She kept trying to find some kind of leverage, but nothing seemed to work.

“Until you settle down and accept my authority, I will continue to spank your pretty bottom.”

“Stop it, John!”

“No. Your learning to mind me starts now. You want me to stop? You quit fighting me.”

She bit her lower lip to keep from crying. Her ass was really beginning to hurt—heat and pain blossomed across it. Finally, she lost her fight with herself, ceased struggling, and started to cry. The instant she went limp, he gently settled his hand on her backside.

“That’s better,” he said soothingly. Mandy noted his tone wasn’t angry but resolute. “I’m going to let you stand, then I’m going to bare your backside to finish this.”

“John…”

“You show me you can behave, and it’ll only be a few swats. You don’t, and I’ll make you wish you had.”

John’s legs released their grip on hers, and he helped her to her feet, then reached up to unbutton and unzip her jeans, tugging them down past her hips and thighs. She saw him smile appreciatively at the skimpy red lace panties she had chosen to wear. Hooking his finger, he took them down to her kneesas well. She could see him take in how hard her nipples had become.

“Back over my knee, and let’s get this done.”

Mandy wanted to protest, wanted to tell him to go to hell—wanted to want anything other than to do what he was telling her—but she didn’t. She’d never been more turned on in her life, not from the pain radiating off her backside, but from the man who had inflicted it. She didn’t struggle when he helped her back over his knee, gently closing his legs, so hers were once more between them.

She had just about convinced herself this might not be so bad when she heard the harsh sound of his hand connecting with her now bare flesh at almost the same time as she felt the sting in her backside increase to a new, more painful level.

“John,” she wailed quietly as her crying intensified.

“That’s a good girl,” he crooned. “You need to learn to yield and cry when you’re punished, so I know I’ve gotten through to you.”

He swatted her only another half dozen times, but each blow landing on her already bruised bottom was far more painful than it had been over her jeans. John stopped and rubbed her backside soothingly. Tracing his finger down the crack of her ass, he stopped momentarily to play with the puckered entrance to her darkest sheath before sliding his hand between her legs.

Mandy sighed and parted her legs to his touch. John ran his finger past her pussy up to her clit, circling it before taking it between his fingers, rubbing and massaging. Mandy’s breath became arrhythmic as she felt herself drip onto his jeans. His hand moved to the entrance of her core, parting the petals of her sex before dipping in her pussy and lightly stroking.

“That’s much better than getting your bottom spanked, don’t you think?” he said silkily.

“Yes,” she whispered.

“When you’re facedown over my knee, you answer with yes or no, Sir. Understood?”

“Yes,” she said, closing her eyes. She yelped as his hand delivered another sharp slap to her painful behind.

“Yes, what?”

“Yes, Sir. I’m sorry, I’ve never… I mean, no one has ever…”

He chuckled, but not in a way that made her think he was making fun of her.

“I thought that might be the case. Now you know, and you’ll do better, won’t you, sweetheart?”

“Yes. I mean, yes, Sir.”

“Good girl. How about I let you up? You can kick those jeans and panties off and sit on my lap while we have a little chat.”

“Uhm, okay.”

---