X is for Xanadu

Xylophone-like staccatos, one after another, rained down on Federica’s bare bottom as soon as she bent over Arlin’s knee and offered herself to him, trying her best to be a good girl. To appreciate Federica’s efforts, Arlin ordered her to lay her torso on the sofa, instead of hanging over his knee with her head down. A lesser-known trick, this more comfortable position reduced her chance of sliding off and increased her chance of taking a harder beating. A true Brit, Arlin was not afraid of the dreaded word, as for him it meant the same: spanking. Variety is the spice of life, isn’t it?

So short of time, getting her to the Xanadu, the promised land of spankees, the subspace where they dance with the fairies on cloud nine, was out of the question. Despite being a disciplinarian, Arlin ventured with willing partners to the other side of pain, the pleasure side. That required time and dedication, and a certain experience that Federica did not possess.

But Federica provided a welcomed variety, at first with all her ow’s and aw’s, and her plump bum on display, keeping in position and not trying to escape his hand. But when Arlin began his favorite X-marks-the-spot game, aiming at the same spot over and over, the woman shrieked and jerked to the side, and committed the cardinal sin of spanking: reached back with her hand trying to block.

“Tsk tsk tsk,” Arlin chastised, catching her wrist mid-air. “No blocking. No moving away.” He punctuated his words with hard swats on her tender sit spots, each sending her forward. “Each time you break the rules, you get extra swats here,” he hit her right and left sit spots in quick succession, “and here.” Arlin did the same with her upper thighs.

“I can’t, I can’t,” Federica howled.

“You can, and you will. Take it like a good girl.” Arlin rubbed her rosy cheeks while he talked. “Put your hands in front of you, grab a pillow if you must.”

Federica obliged, but the next barrage, a bit harder than the one before, had her in the same troublesome hot water.

“Ai yai yai”, she wailed in sync with Arlin’s falling palm and reached back yet again, within an inch of his hand hitting hers.

Without a word, Arlin removed the silk scarf from her neck and fought Federica to tie her wrists behind her back. “Silly girl, we can’t have that. Do you want to ruin your hands and mine?” With her hands secured, Arlin gave her a big swat. “Up you go!”

All the dreams of Xanadu went out of the window with this unexpected detour, Arlin sighed. He pulled Federica to her feet and maneuvered her around to bend over the wide sofa arm.

“What are you doing?” she jumped to her feet and watched in awe as Arlin unbuckled and pulled out the belt.

“What do you think I’m doing? Bend over, or it will get worse.”

“You said I will get the belt only at the end!”

“Yes, if you would take your spanking like a good girl. Did you, young lady?” Arlin raised an eyebrow.

“No, sir.” She responded meekly, staring at the carpet.

“Bend over then,” Arlin pointed at the sofa arm. He shortened the belt by wrapping it around his fist. No point in keeping it at full length, as he won’t be able to step that far away with all her jumping around. “I want to hear ‘thank you sir’ after each strike.”

“Yes, sir,” Federica responded with her face down in the pillows and her butt sticking out over the sofa’s arm.

“When will you learn to listen?” Arlin pressed the woman’s tied wrists against the small of her back, not trusting Federica’s best instincts. The belt rose with a quick swing and fell across her butt cheeks, leaving an immediate red stripe.

“Ow! Thank you, sir.” She cried out at once.

“We are in this predicament exactly because of that: you don’t listen.” His talking gave her a break to absorb the pain and move back into position. “Butt out.” Arlin tapped her ass with the belt, and as soon as she stuck it out with a sharp inhale, the belt hit its target again.

“Thank you, sir.”

“It’s beyond the point that I can’t play the piano with bruised fingers. Butt out.”

Strike three.

“Thank you, sir.”

“What about you and your swollen fingers, Federica?”

She stuck her butt out without a reminder. Strike four.

“Thank you, sir.”

“No one will see your spanked ass, and that’s the only place on your body I intend to get bruised.”

Strike five and six without a reset.

“Thank you, sir.”

And then the unexpected happened. Was it the enunciated lecture, accompanied by the measured single strikes, but when Arlin caressed her whipped bottom, Federica moaned the needy groan, asking for more.

“Ask me,” he whispered.

“Please, more,” she whispered back.

Perhaps that Xanadu was still within reach after all.