Meeting a sexy stranger sparks this man’s virgin interest in the spectacular world of spanking.

Woodworking comes naturally to me. To be a good spanker, I needed a few lessons.

I’m a thirty-five-year-old cabinetmaker. I specialize in custom pieces, mostly on commission for collectors, decorators and architects. I like to think I’m more of a wood sculptor than a carpenter as I use rare woods and my pieces are all one-of-a-kind. My hours are my own, and I have the luxury of playing tennis in the middle of the afternoon, when most people are at work. One Tuesday, I showered at the tennis club and then drove to the bar to meet some of my friends. After an hour, we’d all had a couple of drinks and I was enthusiastically showing my buddies my great topspin shot. I was explaining how the secret was all in quick wrist action.

To demonstrate, I brought my open hand back — mimicking my racket — and swung it forward and through, with a sharp flick of my wrist. As I turned into my perfect follow-through, my hand hit a woman square on the backside. The loud thwack echoed throughout the bar.

The dark-haired woman spun on her heels. “What the hell!” she barked. I was mortified. This hot stranger was wearing a short, tailored skirt and a matching jacket, and she wore stylish dark-rimmed glasses. She looked every bit the part of the smoking-hot librarian.

Before she said another word, I apologized profusely. “Oh my God, I am so sorry. I didn’t see you.” I explained I’d been demonstrating my tennis swing. She said, “You did a pretty good job of demonstrating how to spank a girl. Are you sure you were discussing tennis?”

As I again began to apologize, she stopped me and said, “Don’t worry about it. I’ll recover.”

She reached down and rubbed her shapely ass, and my eyes followed her hand. As I stared at her gorgeous butt, I asked, “Can I at least buy you a drink?”

“Hey, I’m up here!” she said, snapping her fingers. I immediately refocused on her face and apologized again. She laughed and said, “Well, if you’re going to spank me, I guess the least you can do is buy me a drink afterward.”

She introduced herself as Samantha and said she worked down the street. She’d walked over to meet some friends for drinks, but she was early and alone.

“You know,” I said, “my hand still stings a bit. I didn’t realize how hard I hit you. I’m really sorry.”

“Your hand is obviously not well-trained, or it wouldn’t still hurt.” What an odd comment,  I thought to myself.

“So… how would one get one’s hand in proper shape?”

By now, we were sitting next to each other on barstools. Samantha scooted her stool closer to me and whispered in my ear, “Practice. Like anything else you want to get proficient at. Haven’t you ever given a girl a spanking, Jim?”

I didn’t answer right away and carefully considered what Samantha had asked. “I’ve given a playful swat or two to a girl’s backside. Is that what you mean?”

“No, I mean a serious spanking session. Thoughtfully administered with a purpose.”

I hadn’t done that, but I wanted to, very, very badly. I wondered how to best approach the situation. Did I lie and say I was an experienced spanko? Or did I come clean and confess that I had never spanked a girlfriend before, although I was desperate to spank her?  I chose honesty. “No, I haven’t,” I told her, “but I’d love to. Have you been spanked?”

“Yes,” she said wistfully. “But, unfortunately, not for some time. My last boyfriend wasn’t into the scene. We didn’t last long after it was clear that he and I weren’t a match.”

“So, you like being spanked?”

“In my opinion, there are only two kinds of girls: those who like being spanked, and those who haven’t been properly spanked yet. Of course, I like it. Done correctly with the right partner, a good, hard spanking releases endorphins and unleashes feelings you can’t achieve any other way. A proper paddling puts a girl in an almost dreamlike state.”

“I had no idea. How does one administer a so-called correct spanking?”

“Some girls like riding crops, others like old-fashioned hairbrushes. Whips and switches do it for others. Personally, I like paddles best.”

“Like an old-fashioned wooden paddle?”

“Yup. A paddle covers a bigger area, and I appreciate the sound as well as the feel.” Much to my dismay, she abruptly changed subjects. “Hey Jim, you’re a cabinetmaker, right? I’ve got this antique jewelry cabinet I picked up at a flea market, and the doors are coming loose from the little brass hinges. Is that something you could fix?”

“Sure,” I told her, feeling slightly dejected based on the new topic of conversation. “When would you like me to take a look at it for you?

Samantha hesitated and looked me up and down as if she were trying to decide something. Finally, she said, “ I don’t normally invite a guy I just met to my apartment, but you don’t seem too dangerous.”

I did my best to assure her that I was a pussycat.

“If you’ll come over to fix it on Friday, I’ll cook you dinner. Deal?” How could I say no to that offer?

“Friday’s perfect,” I said. I had no idea what I was doing Friday, but I would move heaven and earth to keep that date. “I’ll bring a few tools and some wine. What will we be eating?

“Italian. Seven o’clock okay?”

We exchanged telephone numbers, and she gave me her address.

When I got home, I immediately hit my computer and did some research on spanking. I was amazed at the number of web sites devoted to the fetish. I also found dozens of images of paddles and decided to make a gift for Samantha.

The next day in my shop, I picked out a particularly spectacular piece of zebrawood, a Brazilian hardwood with striking black and white streaks, and a piece of curly maple, an ivory-colored hardwood with beautiful swirling grain. I cut the zebrawood to three and a half inches wide and twenty inches long, thinning it to nearly a quarter of an inch, giving it a delightful springiness.

I tapered one end stylishly for a handle and laminated a piece of the curly maple on either side of the handle, making a three-layered grip. I spent hours shaping the handle and blade of the paddle, before sanding it to a satin-smooth finish. A dozen coats of clear lacquer followed over the next two days, followed by a hand polishing and waxing that brought the paddle to a mirror finish.

Samantha and I spoke a few more times during the week, getting to know each other over the phone. We didn’t touch on the topic of spanking again, and I didn’t mention my project.

On the way to Samantha’s apartment on Friday, I stopped at a wine shop and picked up an expensive Italian Barolo. I also bought two black velvet wine bags.

In my car, I put the wine in one bag and slipped the paddle in the other. I had also brought a tool bag that I’d stocked with a few tools to fix her jewelry box.

I smoothed my hair, straightened my shirt and pants, and knocked on Samantha’s door at precisely seven o’clock. She answered the door in a short sundress with a snug white belt that accentuated her trim waist. She had on white platform shoes and the full skirt of the dress ended about mid-thigh. Her hair was pulled back in a ponytail, and she wore a light floral perfume.

“Hey, Jim. Come on in!”

She saw the two black bags I was holding in one hand and the tool bag I had in the other, and then said, “Let me take the wine and put it in the kitchen.”

I didn’t say a word as she took the two wine bags. She noticed that one was lighter than the other, and she smiled and asked, “What have we here? When she pulled the drawstring open and slid the paddle out of the velvet sleeve, her eyes widened, and she exclaimed, “Oh, this is beautiful. Did you make this? “

I explained that I’d made it that week.

“Is this mine?” she asked tentatively, “Or are you just teasing me with it?”

“No, it’s yours. I have to confess, though, that I was a little nervous bringing this. I wasn’t sure how you’d react.”

“Are you kidding? This is a work of art. I may just leave this out on display.”

She set the paddle on her coffee table, then asked, “Can I make you a drink? I shake a really good martini. Wasn’t that what you were drinking at the bar?”

I nodded, and Samantha motioned for me to sit on the sofa, which faced a fireplace that had real logs burning in it. She went back into the kitchen to put together a pair of martinis. She had her back to me, and I got a long look at her perfectly toned legs perched on the cute white shoes. After mixing the martinis, she brought the drinks over and sat down. She handed me one, and put hers on the table at the far end of the sofa. Then she put her left arm on the back of the sofa and leaned in closer to me. “Normally, I’d be asking how your week went, but I’ve got a pretty good idea that you spent some time in your shop.”

Samantha reached over to the coffee table and picked up the paddle.

“How did you come up with the design? I’ve never seen anything so exquisite. Usually, paddles are plain. This looks like a museum piece.”

She put the paddle back on the table as I continued to sip my martini. She was sitting to my right, and her martini was still on the table on my left. Without saying anything, Samantha reached across me to retrieve her drink from the far end of the table. She had to stretch to reach the other side, and she was practically lying across my lap. With her arm outstretched to get her drink, her dress rode up, and I had a great view of her white lace panties. They were full briefs but they showed off her ass perfectly. She seemed to linger more than necessary if she’d simply intended to grab her drink. I was overcome with the smell of her perfume and the view of her panties. Unable to resist, I put my hand on her firm butt, not knowing what her reaction might be.

“Mmm, that feels divine,” she purred.

Relieved, I continued to run my hand gently over the lace. “These are really pretty,” I said. “They look great on you, but then anything would look sexy on a butt like this.”

“They match my bra,” she said.

Instead of retrieving her drink, Samantha pulled one of the sofa’s throw pillows under her and rested her face on her folded arms, looking toward the fireplace. I continued to massage her butt.

I wasn’t sure how she’d react, but I had to take a chance. I took the paddle off the table. Samantha stuck her butt up like a cat when the paddle touched her panties, and she wiggled as I caressed her with the slippery blade. I didn’t need any more hints. I drew the paddle back and gave her a firm tap on both cheeks.

“Oh, that’s nice.” she said.

Encouraged, I continued to paddle her, rhythmically spanking her butt in random areas so she never knew where the next swat was going to land. After a few minutes, I had increased the intensity, and there was a sharp sound every time I administered another blow. She began whimpering with every stroke, but she never told me to back off or stop.

When I started to feel an ache in my arm, I stopped and began rubbing her butt. I could feel the heat radiating off of her flesh. I slipped my hand under the leg opening and slid her panties to the side. “Wow, you got some color. Your ass is a pretty shade of pink.” I readjusted her panties and asked, “Was that okay”?

She squirmed and sighed. “Not just okay, that was perfect. Let me lay here for a few minutes and soak this in. The lasagna won’t be ready for half an hour.”

After several minutes, she got up and pulled her dress back down. She leaned forward and began to kiss me. Her lips were soft and full, and she slipped her tongue into my mouth. My cock was fully erect and straining against my pants. While she continued to kiss me, Samantha reached down to inspect the obvious bulge in my pants.

“Looks like we both enjoyed the spanking,” she whispered. She grabbed me through my pants and began stroking me steadily. I was afraid I was going to come and pulled her hand away.

“Didn’t that feel good?”

“Way too good, if you know what I mean.”

Samantha laughed and stood up.

“Okay, I’ll get dinner ready and let you recover, if that’s what you really want, but that bulge tells me otherwise.”

I leaned back into the comfortable sofa and took a few deep breaths and a big sip of my martini, trying to process what had just transpired.

Samantha soon announced that dinner was served. We sat at a small table in her dining room and enjoyed a great meal, easily finishing the bottle of wine. I learned about her first spanking at the hands of a much older boyfriend when she was in her early twenties. On and off over the ensuing years, she’d get a guy interested in spanking her, but no one had any abiding talent for it. When we were done with dinner, we brought the dishes to the kitchen. Then Samantha turned to me and put both arms around my neck and kissed me again. She pressed herself against me as we kissed and nibbled my ear before whispering, “I think I need another spanking. Let’s go upstairs right now.”

As we passed the coffee table, Samantha picked up the paddle and put it in my hand. She took my other hand in hers and led me upstairs. Whether she had sex on her mind before I got there that night, I don’t know, but her bed was already turned down.

“Take off my dress please,” Samantha requested, her back to me. I reached around her waist and unbuckled her belt. She held her ponytail up so I could unzip her dress, and she let the garment fall to the floor and stepped out of it. She looked incredible, standing in only her bra, panties and white shoes. She got on her bed, facedown. I didn’t need another cue. I sat down next to her and began paddling her butt, harder than I had downstairs. She made little sounds every time the paddle connected, but she didn’t complain and never told me to ease up. I worked every inch of her pretty ass until she said, “Ten more please.”

If these were going to be her last ten, I was going to make them memorable. I gave her a much stronger smack, and she yelped. She didn’t say a word, but I saw her grip her pillow with both hands. I delivered eight more strong strokes, and she released a soft moan with each swat.

“Last one, Samantha,” I said as I gave her the strongest spank yet. The paddle made a loud thwack, and she was more vocal this time, “Oh, that stung!” she exclaimed, reaching around to rub her butt.

“Too hard?” I asked.

“No, just hard enough,” she said.

I lay down next to her. She rolled over and unfastened my belt. Then she unzipped my pants and pulled down my slacks and my underwear. My cock snapped to full attention as she dragged my boxer briefs to my thighs. She got on top of me, facing my feet, raised herself up a bit and pulled the crotch of her panties aside so she could slip my cock inside her. Her pussy was delicious — warm, slippery and tight. She began moving her hips around, and I was delirious with pleasure.

“Oh, that is so good,” I exclaimed.

Samantha didn’t say anything, but she reached down and began massaging my balls while she continued to fuck me.

“Maybe you shouldn’t do that right now,” I said. I could tell things were going way too fast and it wasn’t going to be long before I passed the point of no return.

Samantha didn’t stop though. In fact, she intensified her manipulation of my balls, as if that were even possible, and she fucked me even faster.

“If you don’t slow down,” I said, “I’m going to stop fucking you and give you a spanking you’ll really remember.”

“Promise?” she cooed, looking over her shoulder and fluttering her eyes at me as she continued to work my balls.

“Oh, you brat,” I sighed, doing my very best not to shoot. “You aren’t going to be able to sit down tomorrow.”

That simply made Samantha giggle, and she began to pump her thighs so she could power up and down my cock at an even faster pace. In spite of my threat, I tweaked her clit with my thumb and forefinger, making her come a beat before I did. Then I began squirting uncontrollably into her tight little pussy. Samantha milked my cock dry with her well-muscled vagina until I was completely spent. She moved off my cock and sat there looking down at me, obviously pleased with herself.

“Bend over the bed,” I said.

“What, Jim?” she was doing her best to play coy.

“I told you that behavior would earn you a spanking, and I wasn’t joking,” I told her. For the last punishment of the night, I used my hand. I made sure that Samantha really felt her skin heating up, and I gave her the last few smacks between her legs, right on her pussy lips, bringing her to another climax.

“That was fucking amazing,” Samantha whimpered as the last sparks of the climax flared through her. “I can’t remember ever coming like that.”

“Good,” I told her. “You introduced me to the wonderful world of spanking, I wanted to reciprocate.”

The jewelry box didn’t get fixed that night, but I did get to it a few days later. Samantha’s been regularly and lovingly disciplined in the past year we’ve been together. She delights in calling or texting me and detailing how bad she’s been that day, spending too much money shopping, leaving the house a mess or just being bitchy, insuring she’ll be properly disciplined that night. She now has a great selection of paddles in her dresser and likes to pick one out and leave it on her bed. Unless, of course, I’ve made her a new one and bring it over for a tryout.

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