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Jeff took Amy firmly by the forearm and led her over to the sofa. Jeff sat on the edge of the sofa, in the middle, and invited Amy across his lap.She kneeled down on the floor to his right and arranged herself across his
knees, with her elbows on the floor and her bound hands framing her head.
Now her knees were not quite touching the floor.
Jeff asked her, "Do you remember the last time I spanked you with your hands tied?" She certainly did. "Do you deserve a spanking that hard?" No, she did not. "About half that hard?" Well, maybe. Which, of course, meant Yes. "That would be about two dozen of my hardest spanks, then, plus
maybe a little extra if you don't lay still." Amy protested, but not too loudly.
Jeff spanked her. By now Jeff had had a *lot* of practice, and could be most devastating. Amy lay still for twenty of the two dozen ringing smacks,
her rear cheeks bouncing after each one. She was a veteran by now, and let her legs lay open, her knees almost a foot apart. When she was being spanked,
she left *everything* open and available to her husband. (But, of course, she normally kept those blue silk panties on, so she was only being a tease.)
Because of this, Jeff was distracted from his task, as often as not. But not this time. Each slap brought an "Ow!" After twenty, she shouted,
"Enough!" and tried to bounce herself off Jeff's lap.
But Jeff held her tightly to his stomach. Her escape attempt had failed.
Jeff spanked her four more times with renewed enthusiasm. Amy kicked and cried. Real tears, no acting required.
"Okay, that was enough, but I think maybe a little extra is called for."Amy protested--she sounded very sincere--but Jeff held on and spanked her some
more. It was a bit more difficult, now, with all of her kicking and twisting, but Jeff by now had plenty of practice with such circumstances.
That day, Amy received six extra swats for an even thirty. Amy was not sure if that established a "rule" specifying the severity of a "real"
punishment spanking or not. She would be sure to negotiate if the situation ever arose again--and she knew the chances were that it would.
knees, with her elbows on the floor and her bound hands framing her head.
Now her knees were not quite touching the floor.
Jeff asked her, "Do you remember the last time I spanked you with your hands tied?" She certainly did. "Do you deserve a spanking that hard?" No, she did not. "About half that hard?" Well, maybe. Which, of course, meant Yes. "That would be about two dozen of my hardest spanks, then, plus
maybe a little extra if you don't lay still." Amy protested, but not too loudly.
Jeff spanked her. By now Jeff had had a *lot* of practice, and could be most devastating. Amy lay still for twenty of the two dozen ringing smacks,
her rear cheeks bouncing after each one. She was a veteran by now, and let her legs lay open, her knees almost a foot apart. When she was being spanked,
she left *everything* open and available to her husband. (But, of course, she normally kept those blue silk panties on, so she was only being a tease.)
Because of this, Jeff was distracted from his task, as often as not. But not this time. Each slap brought an "Ow!" After twenty, she shouted,
"Enough!" and tried to bounce herself off Jeff's lap.
But Jeff held her tightly to his stomach. Her escape attempt had failed.
Jeff spanked her four more times with renewed enthusiasm. Amy kicked and cried. Real tears, no acting required.
"Okay, that was enough, but I think maybe a little extra is called for."Amy protested--she sounded very sincere--but Jeff held on and spanked her some
more. It was a bit more difficult, now, with all of her kicking and twisting, but Jeff by now had plenty of practice with such circumstances.
That day, Amy received six extra swats for an even thirty. Amy was not sure if that established a "rule" specifying the severity of a "real"
punishment spanking or not. She would be sure to negotiate if the situation ever arose again--and she knew the chances were that it would.
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