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Haggling for that Spanking.

Sometimes you have to pay the going rate and for Karen it was a hot and sore bum!!
It was a sunny Saturday during a stiflingly hot summer month and I could tell trouble was a brewing ahead.

Beside me Karen, my own dear heart, was sat in the passenger seat, window down, hair blowing in the wind whilst humming and drumming her fingers to the sound of Altered Images telling her to stop talking about this thing called love.

Her blue eyes had that steely determined “This lady means business” look in them where I knew exactly what was going through that pretty head of hers.

Sighing, I gripped the wheel tighter and shifted a gear higher. Terrific. We were only off to the local multiplex shopping mall where we were going to look for a new bloody fridge freezer.

There may be trouble ahead…

*

Men shop like they’re having sex. Get the hell in, do the business, get the hell out before you get eaten alive – or offered an extended warranty with perks by some spotty little Herbert with an attitude problem and bad body odour. Why do women put their men through this?! By this time we were surrounded on all sides by white metal boxes each proclaiming to freeze my balls faster than the next man. It’s at times like this when, as a man, you start playing with your nasal hair as the boss goes through her routine of given each freezer an inspection that would do a gynaecologist proud. All I needed now was…

“Hi there, my names Neville. I’m your friendly neighbourhood sales assistant (commission only) and it’s my job to offer you assistance and advice on all the products in our store. Feel free to ask me anything you want.”

Karen – my better half – a 5 ft 6” pocket battleship with a backside to match – looked up from where she was trying to figure out how many free range eggs she could cram into one of those plastic compartments and gave the assistant, who looked all of 14, a beaming smile that had me taking a step back just in case. “Well, maybe,” she said in her best not so sure manner. “I like this one but I’m not going to pay that price. Maybe we can come to some sort of arrangement hmmm?”

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAGH!!!!!

*

AN OFFICIAL POINT OF ORDER FOR THE FAIRER SEX:

The thing is girls; men hate to be seen to be as useless as they already know they are. Men DO NOT haggle. Men like to think by paying over the odds they’re showing they know what they’re doing in a masculine sort of macho way. If that’s what it costs – that’s what I’m dammed well going to pay because I don’t want this berk serving me to think I’m some sort of cheapskate without a dime to his name. So there. Anyway, on with the story….

*

A LONG while later..

We’d been in the car driving home for about 10 minutes in utter silence.

“What’s wrong?” she asked as she pulled her denim covered right leg up onto the seat and lent her chin atop it to look at me. Oh, don’t give me that quizzical look of bemused bemusement. She knows fine well the reason why I’m sat in the driver’s seat sporting a little simmering grey cloud above my head. “Are you mad at me – again?”

It was just as well I was clutching the wheel or else I’d…I’d….

“You amaze me sometimes.” I muttered as I studiously pretended to concentrate on the road ahead. “You really do.”

She looked innocently at me. “I do?”

“You know you do.”

“Because of what I did back there?”

“Totally because of what you did back there.”

“Why?”

“Waddayamean WHY??!” I blurted out. Heck, it isn’t even like this is the first time she’s done it either!! Its funny how in the late evening as the sun just begins to set the world turns a warmer shade of red. Or maybe it was just my imagination and the red mist beginning to come down.

The hands were in play now. Whenever she wanted to prove how superior her reasoning was she used her hands to emphasis her point. And they were in full flow right now. I added another 10kmph onto the speedometer. “Yes Why.” she asked again. “Don’t you know that’s how it works these days? It’s an American thing. To them it’s second nature to go for a lower price. They don’t take any crap from the salesman.”

“That kid was probably on minimum wage looking to make a bonus on the sale.” I muttered feeling that argument wasn’t exactly one to cut her off at the pass now that I could sense I was about to endure one of her “Oh you men.” lectures.

I was right.

“Oh spare me the bleeding heart liberal!” she laughed as she waved dismissively at me like I was a piece of stale cheese. Which was kind of how I felt to be honest. “You men are all the same. My last boyfriend was just like you. He hated when I did that too. Do you honestly think they give a damn about ripping you off if they can get away with it? It’s a dog eat dog world out there honey and you have to get what you can take. If they want my money, they have to screw it out of me that’s for sure.”

I glanced over at her. You know, why is it women look more beautiful when their blood is high and they have colour in their cheeks? To me it was wonderful and mysterious all at the same time. Speaking of noticing things, by now, I’d also begun to notice the signs on the road…

Karen was still in full flow. “You really are just like my ex. I bet you just wanted the ground to open up and swallow you whole!” she laughed giving her firm long thigh a right whip cracking slap. It was then, amidst her giggling, she happened to exclaim “Well, at least you don’t get that angry or pissed off enough to spank my arse when we got home afterwards!!”

I’d like to take this opportunity – just in case the individual concerned happens to be reading this – to apologise to the bloke in the red Ford Escort who I must have scared the shit out of when I swerved into his lane at the merest mention of the “s” word. You just had to be there to understand my startled reaction.

“He did what to your what?” By this time we were surrounded by hooting and honkng horns and gestures from other drivers telling me no doubt about how I came to be in that particular test tube in the first place.

Karen had slid down in her seat due to her mirth and was holding her side. I think she was trying to recall what she had unconsciously just said. “Huh, what what?”

I was like a gnat on an elephants arse. No way was I going to let this one go. “You just said – about what your ex used to do to you afterwards.”

She pulled a face and made as if to straighten up her clothing and fiddle around with her long brown hair. She seemed to be determinedly avoiding my gaze and was looking out of her side window. “Nothing. Forget it. It was no big deal anyway.”

I sank my teeth further into that elephant’s rump. “He spanked you?!”

She shifted in her seat and briefly glanced at me embarrassed before she turned away again. “Sometimes.”

“And you let him?!”

It was a topic that had obviously hit a sore point. The point of which was currently encased snug-fit in a pair of ultra tight fitting denim jeans. Which, I should confess, turns me on something rotten.

She sighed resignedly as she sensed it was something I wasn’t going to let go. She probably thought I’d think someone doing that to her should have his wedding tackle fed to a tank full of piranhas. She couldn’t have been more wrong if she tried.

Okay, okay. Maybe I should bare my soul right now. It’s not a lie to say of all things the fairer sex possess by way of attributes the one I drooled over the most were their bottoms. No idea why – just do. But there’s a big difference from being an arse man and someone who wants to spank it too. Agreed. For this little quirk in my sexuality we have Ron and Hilda Braithwaite to thank for that. They were our right-sided neighbours when I was a kid and their double bedroom just happened to be flush next to mine. Talk about getting a first hand sex education!!

There I was, around the age of 12, lying in bed one winter’s night thinking of Thor, The Fantastic Four and Spiderman when I heard Mrs Braithwaite – a large rolly polly of a woman with a cheerful manner to match – yelping at the top of her voice telling her husband to stop doing what he was doing “Before the whole bloody street knew!!” What was he doing? Well, the sounds of SPANK SLAP CRACK followed swiftly in turn by “OWW” “EEK” “NOOO RON THAT STINGS” and the dead giveaway “DON’T SPANK ME TOO HARD WILL YOU!!!” explains everything.

There you go. I don’t think I could have flattened myself to my bedroom wall harder if I tried…

I never said I was normal did I?

*

After our little detour, back to the conversation in hand..

“And you let him?!”

I could see Karen beginning to loose her rag at my probing interest.

“Of course I let him.” she said with a hiss. “He was six foot bloody three wasn’t he. He’d just pick me up, throw me over his shoulder, go into the bedroom, put me over his lap like I was a doll and then he he he’d…” She was pointing her finger at me as her voice rose higher and higher.

“He’d what?”

She paused and blushed scarlet. This was obviously something she didn’t want to tell anyone about at all. But, give her her due, it came out in a rushed whisper so quiet I had to lean over slightly to hear. “He took my knickers down and spanked my bottom.” Her eyes had glazed over and her lips had a certain twitch to them.

I mustered all the tact I could muster. “Did it hurt?”

Cue one set of fluffy dice bouncing off my head.

“Of course it bloody hurt you moron!!”

Ouch. Okay, that just about did it for me. Don’t get me wrong, I luv her to bit’s but, not to put too fine a point on it, she can be a right stuck up snotty little tart at times and I’d usually put up with her tirades with a weary acceptance even when she pointed out my apparent lack of manhood amongst my many other faults. I must have sucker tattooed on my flipping forehead as far as women are concerned.

Well, NOT ANY MORE!

*

It took her a second to realise she wasn’t going where she was supposed to be going. She jerked forward and twisted around to look out the back window of our motor.

“Hey, are you blind as well as stupid?” she exclaimed loudly. “You just missed our bypass. Do I have to show you where to bloody go as well?!”

I kept my eyes on the road – and ignored her sarcastic remarks.

She frowned slightly wondering what I was up to. “Hey, don’t pull that I’m not talking to you because I’m in a huff crap. We’ll have to double back at the next junction. Men you’re all the same.” She sighed and slumped back in her seat and folder her arms across her impressive bust. “And you can make your own bloody tea when we get home.”

“The last thing on your mind will be my bloody tea when I’m finished with you my girl!” I thought to myself as we approached the roundabout where, instead of doing a 180, I took the first left hand exit and headed out into the countryside to a secluded little spot I knew would be just perfect for what I intended to do.

Beside me Karen’s mouth dropped open in surprise.

*

Part 2.

Finally, I stopped the car.

We were in a small meadow surrounded on all sides by thick forest and the only way out was the only way in – a narrow dirt track which led up to the road. The meadow was a place you had to know about in order to find it. I’d be surprised if there was anyone around for miles or in earshot – which was definitely handy.

It was perfect.

Reaching forward, I shut off the engine, took out the keys – just in case – and slipped them into my shirt pocket. I then turned to Karen who sat in the passenger seat looking at me as if I’d lost my marbles. I could see and sense all sorts of things going through her mind as we sat there looking at each other. I wondered if she was thinking about her ex-boyfriend.

Then, the light dawned in her eyes.

“Oh this is bloody typical.” she snapped. “Trust you to think of something like this. You get more like a bloody rabbit every day.”

I didn’t say a word but reached over and played idly with a strand of her hair. Have to admit, it was kind of hard keeping a straight face as she went on another of her lectures.

She slapped my hand away. “We just did IT this morning.” she pointed out. “Isn’t once a day enough for you?” She looked around. “And if you think I’m going to do it here you’ve got another flipping thing coming. There’s no way I’m going to have a shag in a place like this and end up with ant’s and God knows what else crawling over my arse. So think again buster!” She stuck out her chin and tried to ignore me. “You’d better take me home – or else.”

Well, actually, yes we had done IT that morning and very pleasurable it was too if I might say so. When she’s in the mood she can be a right little bunny can my Karen. As with most things in our relationship she likes to think she’s in control of any given situation – including sex and when she fancies a quickie I’d usually wake up to find her under the duvet with her lips around my pecker crooning to it “Whooze a beeg boy then hmmm?”

Not that I’m complaining you understand. I like my sex. Heck, I like any kind of sex I can get. Karen does tend to have a low opinion of men who she thinks think about it all the time. Which is kind of tricky because she’s got a great set of tits, an arse to worship and legs up to her ears. Just my luck.

So anyway, to the situation at hand..

I opened the door on my side. “Get out of the car.”

She jumped slightly in her seat and quickly looked across at me as I slid out and stood in the lush green grass with my arms resting on the top of the car and my head lowered just inside the door. First there was a look of surprise followed swiftly by a sort of pouting indignation as her temper began to rise along with the colour in her cheeks. “Don’t be so bloody ridiculous. If you think I’m going to get out of this car you’ve got another thing coming. I’m going to sit right here until you come to your senses or at least stop thinking about sex all the time.”

“I said.” My voice getting steadily lower and more insistent. “Get out of the car Karen.” I paused then added for emphasis. “Now.”

Her lower lip was becoming more and more prominent and had begun to tremble slightly. It was an act I’d seen her play many times before when she realised that she was in a situation she couldn’t control or might not be able to get out of. But not this time. This time I was determined to have the upper hand and the final say on the matter. She sniffed and looked at me with her chin wobbling. “I’m not sure I like you any more. I don’t see why you want to do it here. You never told me you liked this sort of thing on our first date did you.”

I shrugged. Don’t give in to her. She’s trying to wind you around her little finger. “I think you’re about to find out there’s one or two other things I never told you on our first date. Now get yourself out of the car and come here before I really lose my temper with you.”

No doubt her mind was working overtime trying to figure out what to say or do next as I stood there waiting. She was probably imagining what unspeakably obscene things I was going to do to her once I got her out of the car and on the grass. Which, thinking about it, wasn’t that outlandish an idea. Outdoor sex huh? Could I bare my arse under a blue sky? You’ll never know you don’t like doing something unless you do it in the first place and you know me, I’ll try anything once. Maybe.

Karen sat chewing the inside of her cheek and then bit her lower lip as if coming to some sort of decision. “Okay, look I can tell you’re not going to let this go, so..” she took a deep breath as if she was granting me a real big favour. “…why don’t you get in the back of the car and I’ll get in beside you and if you unzip your pants and take your….” she frowned and turned ruby red. “…thingy out and I’ll..I’ll..” She then licked her lips self consciously and gave me a weak smile.

Ah. Blackmail. The oldest trick in the book. Normally, I’d jump at the chance for Karen has a most impressive grasp of female to male linguistics and is able to reduce me to a gurgling sap in a second.

Talk about a low blow – literally.

Boom boom tish.

Nope. Not going to work this time. Next time baby - maybe.

She was looking hopefully up at me, eyes shining, cleavage heaving and lips slightly parted promising me 23.6 seconds of delight. The tough cookie I am I shook my head. “OUT – OF – THE – CAR.” I ordered.

About 5 seconds later she was standing opposite me looking decidedly pissed off.

*

Thankfully the late evening was bathed in a waning sunshine glow as I walked around the car to stand in front of Karen who stood there with her hands on her hips looking scared and angry at the same time. “Now look here..” she began to say before I grabbed her hand and dragged her after me towards a nearby tree stump. “Hey, where, what are you doing?”

I gave her another tug as she tried to dig her heels in. She was trying furiously to pull her hand free from my firm grasp. “You’re coming with me whether you like it or not.” I told her.

When she realised she couldn’t pull herself free she began to slap and pummel my right shoulder and back. “You, you…bastard!” she seethed. “You, you, flipping sex obsessed dirty old man!!” I was only 3 years older than her at 23. “If, if, you do it this time I’m, I’m going to be….very cross!!”

We had reached my intended destination. Now it was time to see whether I had the balls to go through with it. But a little fun at her expense first wouldn’t hurt I felt. I sat down on the wide stump and made her stand between my thighs looking down at me. “Well?” I said simply.

She looked around for a moment and then reached down mumbling as she tried to undo the button on the front of her jeans. “You randy little bugger. If a bee stings my arse you’re in big trouble.” she warned as she finally pulled her jeans open and I caught a glimpse of clean white panties.

I reached up and stopped her. “No. Fasten them back up.”

“Huh?” she said puzzled.

“This isn’t about what you think it’s about.”

“It isn’t?”

“No. It’s about something else.” I could feel her tense up as my hands moved up her thighs and over her buttocks. “You know that ex-boyfriend of yours?”

She was looking at me in a very strange and unsure way. “Uh huh.”

I was gripping her backside more firmly just in case as I finally came clean. “I think that ex-boyfriend of yours had the right idea.”

Her mouth bobbed open a couple of times before she muttered. “About what?”

“I think you know what.” I smiled. “Don’t you Karen.”

I felt her hands cover mine as they grasped her bottom. Her face turned bright red but her gaze still held mine as the penny finally dropped. I gave her bottom a squeeze. It was right about then she went totally apeshit.

She grabbed me by both ears and twisted them either way making me yelp in pain. “Oh you sneaky little bleeping sod.” (Note: For those of a sensitive disposition I’ve refrained from using the colourful language spouted from my beloved hence forth in this story.) “If you think you’re going to spank my bleeping bottom you’ve got another bleeping thing coming!!” She was still clinging on to my ears as she realised I had my arms wrapped tightly around her thighs with my face squashed up against her belly button trying to stop her from making a run for it.

Oh bloody hell ouch. That hurt!! Wait until I got her over my knee she’d have something to bleeping complain about then. Getting her over my lap would be easier said than done by the looks of it though. So I stood up and lifted her clean off her feet and basically threw her up in the air and caught her coming down where I swiftly swept away her legs so she unbalanced against me and was thus easier to manhandle in anyway I chose. Karen, meanwhile, was still threatening to castrate me amongst other things.

“Wait!” she gasped as she found herself with her feet higher than her head. “Let me bleeping go!! This isn’t bleeping funny you know. I’m too bleeping old to bleeping spank.”

After a bit of juggling, I’d finally managed to get her in a position where I was sort of half sat half perched atop the tree stump with Karen flailing around across my lap as I grabbed her hands and pinned them firmly behind her at the base of her spine with one hand. With the other, I reached up and grabbed one of her ears and gave it a tweak too which had her shrieking aloud in surprise and anger. Hey, fair’s fair - men can girly fight dirty too!!

To make sure she was trapped firmly in place, basically to stop her tearing me limb from limb – or worse, I used my right leg to keep both hers from kicking wildly. It was quite a struggle but finally, I had her where I wanted her and that beautiful bleeping bottom of hers was staring me jigglingly in the face – the bonus on my part being it was packed solidly into a pair of tight denim jeans. It wriggled furiously just waiting for someone to spank it.

“LET – ME – UP!!” she cursed. “You’re not supposed to be doing this. I’m not a little girl. LET – ME – UP!!” She twisted around and gasped - my right hand was raised above her full arse ready to smack her rump hard. “No, no wait. Stop. Don’t. You can’t!!”

“I think I can.” I said with a firm smile. “I don’t think you’re in a position to argue somehow.”

“But why?” she cried. “What do you want to spank me for?”

“You know why.”

“Because I haggled?”

FIRST – SPANK – EVER

CRACK!!

“OWWWWWWWWWW, you bleeping sod. That bleeping stung!!”

*

Later..

Karen looked at me over her shoulder pensively. “I suppose you want me to leave these on again?”

Her hands were tentatively smoothing down the denim covering her slightly swollen rear as if they were touching a hot stove. Which was what it probably felt like after out little outdoor adventure not an hour or so ago.

The ride home had certainly been something to remember what with Karen yelping, mumbling and bleeping at every bump or pothole she thought I’d intentionally looked for in the road to prolong her smarting agony. And it certainly had been smarting. Maybe since it was my first attempt at such a thing I’d made damn well sure I’d done a thorough first class job of it. At the finish Karen had accepted I wouldn’t be swayed from doing what I was doing and that there was nothing she could do to stop it. Even the bleeping had stopped and all that was left was the expected “OWWW OH TOO HARD!!” the occasional “YEOWWW!!” and the triumphant “I’M SORRY. I WON’T DO IT AGAIN – I PROMISE!!”

That last exclamation produced the last of the first outdoor spanks. A big fat walloping stinger that had her bleeping all the way back to the car.

As soon as we’d got home she’d ran up the stairs to the bathroom and slammed the door shut. I’d made my way to our bedroom and sat on the bed feeling great and depressed all at the same time. Not sure why. I’d achieved a personal ambition but at what cost?

Maybe that was why her ex was an ex now.

The door to the bathroom opened and Karen came in to stand in front of me. I looked up at her and smiled. “Helluva way to buy a fridge freezer.”

To coin a phrase – that broke the ice, sort of. She laughed and made to sit on the edge of her dressing table but winced and bounced back up clutching her arse. “Ah. Bleeping hell, still stinging you sod.” She grabbed a pillow and biffed me one. “Since when did I deserve a spanking like that?”

I reached up to grab her wrists. “Since the moment you walked into my life I think.” I shook my head. “Can’t explain why but when you said you’d been spanked before something in me changed. In a way it’s always been there, in the background. I spanked you not because I was angry with you but because I needed to. Does that make any sort of sense?”

She forced herself to sit on my lap, shifting slightly to get comfortable. Her right arm was over my shoulder ruffling my hair from the back. She had a look on her face that was kind of resigned indulgence but laced with something else. She looked at me for a moment and tilted her head to one side contemplating me. I felt as if I was being judged somehow. As if she was weighing the pro’s and con’s of our 4 month old relationship. “Do you..” she began. “..do you want to know why he’s my ex-boyfriend now?”

I’d of thought that was as plain as the nose on my face. “Because he spanked you too much?”

Her face broke into a grin. “Actually no, it was because he wouldn’t spank me enough.”

It’s not often I find myself at a loss for words.

*

So here we are..

At the end of something that turns out to be only just the beginning of something amazing. Our spanking relationship that would eventually turn into marriage and 2.4 kids.

She had slipped off her jeans and had removed her panties. I watched silently as she reached up and began to tug off her white t-shirt. I have to admit dear reader that I was still completely bemused, stunned, gob smacked – you name it, having listened to my partner’s completely mind-blowing confession.

Once she was gloriously naked, she reached forward and ran her hand through my hair. Then she took both of mine in hers and turned them palm up. Looking me straight in the eye she kissed each in turn. “I know something we can use these for.”

“I think I can too.” I laughed as she slid down and over my lap.

Her backside was a fleshy moon with a red tinged hue. “I’m ready.”

I sat admiring the eloquent poise of her lying there waiting for me to do what I had always self consciously wanted to do with it – to her but never once imagining it was something she’d agree too. Life is certainly full of surprises.

“How many do you want?” I asked innocently. “20?”

She arched around and looked at me mischievously. “I’m not prepared to pay the price you’re asking. Perhaps we can come to some sort of arrangement?” She winked at me. “How about 25?”

Smiling at her I rubbed my chin. “Hmmmmm, don’t know if I can do that. 30?”

“35?”

“40?”

In the end, we didn’t even reach the original spanking price for the fruits of our labour dissolved into the wonder of the fruits of our loins..

The end.
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