Spencer Taft could hardly believe his eyes. Before him stood his girlfriend Tiffany, wearing a very short nightie, panties, and knee-high sheer hose. It’s not that it was the first time he’d seen her in a sexy outfit. His surprise had more to do with the fact that they were in the den of her family home. Tiffany was baby sitting her younger brother and sister, while her parents were out for the evening. She had offered to do so, thinking it would be a good way to show them her gratitude to them for their offer to pay for her pre-college vacation trip after graduation in a few weeks. And as a side bonus, she could invite Spencer over for some DVDs, popcorn, and other fun activities.
At eighteen, Tiffany felt like she now had the keys to the world – a hot boyfriend, a fun vacation planned, and the adventure of university ahead. To celebrate, she had decided this would be a good night to model her new nightie. She had mixed a little brandy into her brother and sister’s ice cream and they were now soundly sleep.
She turned to move a chair under the door knob of the den, to further protect their privacy. Spencer watched her shapely bottom with delight. It was barely covered by the high-cut panties she wore. Tiffany had that classic cheerleader shape, smallish but perky breasts and a firm, round bottom atop womanly thighs. After placing the chair securely under the knob, she walked back over to Spencer and straddled him.
He caressed her back and hips and asked, grinning, “What the hell are you doing?”
“You know what I’m doing,” she replied and began unbuttoning his shirt.
“God, I love you, but you’re insane!” he said. “What if your folks come home early.”
“They won’t,” Tiffany said. “And besides. I’m eighteen. I can do what I want now. Soon I won’t even live here.”
Spencer began kissing sensually around her neck as he ran his fingers along the outside of her thigh. “Whatever… You’re the boss.”
“Better believe it,” she said, pulling his head to her, delivering a flurry of erotically charged kisses. They could almost taste each others desire at this point. Tiffany began thrusting her hips against him, and he reciprocated in rhythm with her. He could smell the musky scent of her arousal and moved his left hand up her inner thighs to feel the wetness of her panties. She began unbuttoning his pants in order to free his hard cock. With his right hand, he kneaded the flesh of her bottom.
Tiffany stood up in order to pull off her panties and allow Spencer the room to pull off his pants, when they heard the car pulling up the driveway. Both of their eyes went wide as they saw the flash of headlights coming through the front window. Reflexively, Spencer began tucking his still turgid cock back into his pants and re-zipped them, quickly but carefully. Tiffany pulled her panties back up and ran to pull the guard chair from under the rear door of the den. Apparently she had wedged it with a little too much force to make for a quick removal.
“Shit!” she said. “Spencer, I can’t get it out! Help!”
Spencer ran over to help. Together they were able to pull the chair out as they heard the front door open. Tiffany’s mother, Andra, walked in to find Spencer attempting to look casual while he moved one of their den chairs back into position. She also saw her daughter’s rear view as she slipped out through the door. In the next second, as her father, Ken walked in the door, all three of them heard a stumble and fall behind that same door in the hallway.
“What’s going on here?” Andra asked. “Tiff, are you okay?”
Spencer had turned to look behind the half closed door and into the hallway. His mouth dropped open. Ken and Andra walked on into the room, Ken striding past Andra and into the hall way. There they found Tiffany sprawled over her younger brother, who had slipped out of his room to sneak into the kitchen for a snack. In her rush to get out of the den and to her room to change clothes, she had run right into him. Derek was sitting there, a little confused but uninjured. Tiffany stood up as quickly as she could.
“I was… uh…” she said.
“I… uh…” Derek said.
“And what about you?” Ken asked, looking at Spencer. “Are you “uh” as well?”
Andra lead Spencer by the arm towards the front door, “Let me help you make the decision you’re trying to make. You can’t help Tiff at this point. You can only make things worse. So say goodbye for now.”
She paused to let him turn to look at Tiffany. She rolled her eyes. He shrugged. Then Andra continued to escort him out of the front door. She turned back to see Ken shaking his head and beginning to roll up his sleeves.
“Derek, are you okay son?” Ken asked.
“I’m okay,” Derek responded.
“Good. Go on back up to your room. We’ll talk about your being up this late later,” Andra said.
Derek ran quickly up the stairs, pleased with the opportunity to make a strategic escape from his parents’ wrath.
Tiffany watched as her father began unbuckling his belt and slipping it off. He folded the heavy belt and handed it to his wife.
“What are you guys doing,” Tiffany asked. Instinctively her hands went behind her to both protect her bottom and to try and pull her nightie down to cover it.
“It’s obvious what was going on here. And you’re about to get punished,” Ken said. “Your mom is going to give you the first half of it while I calm down. I’m afraid if I start, your mom won’t have anything to work with.”
“But I’m eighteen!” Tiffany objected. “I’m an adult!”
“Technically, yes,” Andra said, “but you’re still living in our house. And you still tried to have sex here, while you were supposed to be watching your brother and sister.”
Ken grabbed Tiffany’s wrists and forced to bend over the back of the couch. Holding her there, he walked around to the front of the couch and sat down sideways to keep her in position. Andra, holding the folded belt in her right hand, used her left hand to pull up Tiffany’s nightie.
“No! Wait,” Tiffany squeaked.
There would be no waiting. Her parents were efficient at this. Andra began belting her daughter, taking wide swings and landing the blows with painful efficiency. They both had mastered the perfect tempo to be the most punishing. Whack. Wait a second for the pain to be fully felt and whack again, before the pain subsides. This way, it only took about seven strokes to make Tiffany feel like crying – which wasn’t fair. It wasn’t fair at all that, here she was, a fully grown woman and about to sob like a little girl. She knew that Derek and Lisa could hear the sound of the strapping upstairs in their rooms. Lisa might have been asleep, but she knew Derek wasn’t. He would be waiting to hear whether or not she cried out loud. He probably was wondering whether grownups cry from spankings too.
Tiffany, determined to “take it like a woman”, moaned into the back cushion of the couch. Her bottom, initially showed individual red stripes from the belt, and then began growing a generally deeper and deeper red. Each time the belt struck, Tiffany wiggled her hips and ground into the couch.
After fifty strokes with the belt, Andra stopped and Ken allowed her to stand. Tiffany danced from foot to foot, rubbing her bottom with one hand, and wiping her cheeks with the other.
“Ow ow ow… sssss…” she said. Her eyes squinted with the pain.
Ken and Andra changed positions, Andra grabbing Tiffany’s wrists and pulling her back over the couch. Ken picked up the belt and folded it again. He put his left hand on the small of her back to hold her in position and began the second part of her spanking. Having witnessed his wife spanking her and seeing her crying face, his anger had abated. Now he just wanted to fulfill the punishment and make sure she felt it fully.
Tiffany began crying again almost right away. Remembering a meditation seminar she had attended, Tiffany tried to put herself into her happy place. But she kept being brought back to this place – bending over the back of the couch in her den – by the continually renewed stinging ache.
After about 70 strokes altogether, the phone rang. Andra had been expecting a call from work that she needed to take, so she let go of Tiffany’s wrists and pulled her face up to meet her own.
“Tiffany,” Andra said, “I need to take this. Can I trust you to stay in position?”
Tiffany looked at her mom through squinted, watery eyes and nodded.
Andra went to the nearby desk and picked up the phone, while Ken continued on with the whipping.
It was Spencer, calling to ask if they had found his wallet. Apparently it had dropped out, maybe into the couch. Over the phone he heard the rhythmic sounds of the belting. After realizing what the sound was, he felt awkward and then concerned. He had left almost ten minutes ago and she was still getting whipped? When did the whipping start? How long would it go on? But he couldn’t ask.
“Tiffany’s getting spanked over the couch right now,” Andra answered Spencer, “but as soon as her father is finished with her, I’ll take a look and give you a call.”
After hanging up the phone, Spencer dealt with a heady cocktail of feelings. He had already been aroused by the foreplay, the two of them had engaged in. Added to that was the adrenaline rush of having almost gotten caught. Now there was this strange new feeling. He had actually overheard his girlfriend getting strapped on her bare bottom. And he knew that it had gone on for some time, so that she must be in a lot of pain. This added a dark edge to his arousal. Even though he loved her, he found himself wanting to prolong the pain of her spanking. He wanted to see her belted. He wanted to spank her himself. Her bottom would be so red and it was so soft and vulnerable and she was so wet.
Just as he was seriously considering relieving his pent up arousal, he heard the doorbell. He considered not answering, but then the bell went off again and again in rapid succession the way only Tiffany would do it.
As soon as he opened the door, she rushed to him, practically tackling him in the process. They fell to his futon together, groping one another, and attempting to undress and help each other undress simultaneously. Tiffany’s face was flushed and her cheeks were wet. He cupped her face in his hand.
“Are you okay,” he asked. “I called and they were… I heard the sound…”
“They whipped me,” Tiffany said, pouting briefly. “It hurt so bad.”
“I’m sorry, Tiff,” Spencer said.
“It’s okay. I’m alright. I’ll be alright,” she said.
They began ravishing one another again. Somewhere deep within, they each knew that something had shifted. Neither of them knew exactly what, but each of them glimpsed a dark, edgy hunger within their sexual souls. This new “thing” added a deeper level of arousal to their love-making. Something was being awakened, which wanted both nurturing and quenching simultaneously. But they felt somehow it never would be quenched and that neither would they want it to be.