Her Learning Curve (F/M)

[socalswitchyguy]

This is a story dedicated to the women out there who are just beginning to let their Inner Spankers come out to play.

©SoCalSwitchyGuy@yahoo.com

It was an all too familiar position that Gregory Hardaway found himself in at the moment. He was standing in the middle of his living room with his shirt and shoes off, staring down at the pants forming a puddle of finely woven cotton at his ankles. For fifth time in as many weeks, he was about to be spanked to tears by Alicia, a woman who, in a relatively brief period of time, had become a close friend, confidant, and, when she felt he needed it, disciplinarian.

It had begun a few months ago. They had met online and something clicked. They shared experiences and worldviews and found that they had much in common. Today, it was his need to experience the kind of emotional release that comes from being spanked that brought them together. They had talked at length about how they were both the kind of people that tend to bottle things up inside and how liberating it often was to be over the knee of someone would firmly and lovingly spank them to tears.

He called it "a release spanking", as opposed to spankings for discipline or punishment, even though the latter categories often included the kind of emotional release he would come to crave so much. And she was one of the few people he knew who not only knew what he was talking about intellectually, but actually understood his not so unusual needs, as she had those same needs herself.

No stranger to having a hot bottom herself, Alicia had fantasized about having a man over her knee for some time, and Greg was only too happy to provide the lightly furred tush, even though it took several weeks before their schedules finally enabled them to have their first face to face (and hand to bottom) visit. During the preceding weeks, they had talked at length about the desired outcome.

Alicia had her own ideas as to how she wanted to play the scene out and would only tell Greg that he was to be dressed casually, but neatly, and that she would be very cross with him if he were wearing shorts instead of pants or what she deemed "inappropriate underwear". She promised him that she would take good care of him and that, even though the spanking would hurt, that he should trust her, which he did, even though they had yet to meet. This kind of talk was a sort of role-playing scene they both enjoyed as an exciting teaser for when they would finally meet.

At other times, she expressed her concern to him that, when she finally DID have him over her lap, she would not live up to his expectations. "If it's less than perfect," he told her, "then we'll talk about it so that it can be better the next time. Sometimes, learning to read each other's bodies takes a while. It's OK. The important thing is that we talk to each other and respect each other so that we can both learn how I can give you what you want and need from me and vice versa."

That first spanking was an extended affair, with Greg stretched over Alicia's lap for close to an hour and a half. As she was doing now, she had him stand in front of her with his hands held in front of him and his pants at his ankles while she walked around him, constantly scolding him, giving the seat of his briefs an occasional sharp slap, and generally making him feel about three feet tall.

But that first time, when he told her how nervous and frightened he was and that maybe he was in over his head, she held back in the intensity of her spanking. He later explained to her that he had a reputation for having a "tough hide" and that the toughness was not only a higher than average pain tolerance, but also a tough resistance to letting go of the control and tears that were both aching to be released from within his psyche.

He told her that while the physical intensity of that initial spanking was great for erotic play, if the intent was to get him to bawl like a little boy, that was the intensity of a warm-up. He really needed for her to not hold back as she had before. In fact, when the tears started to flow, he told her, that was when she REALLY needed to lay it on and bring the intensity to a much higher plateau.

Alicia still seemed a bit hesitant. A bond was growing between them that she didn't want jeopardized because she got carried away when he was over her lap. Besides, she reasoned, she knew that she would end up over his lap as well, and she wanted to be spanked with a lot of care, affection and sensitivity herself, and not just senselessly walloped without regard to her physical and emotional needs.

Greg, having taken hundreds of people on successful guided meditations, and a firm believer in spanking by intuition, sat her down, had her relax, and mentally took her to a place where the two of them could sit and in a quiet field, next to a shimmering brook. "I have a two special gifts for you," he told her. In her vision, he showed her a crimson and gold velvet bag from which he withdrew a gold heart. She watched as he held the gold heart to his chest where it was absorbed into his body. A few moments later, he withdrew the gold heart from his chest and held it before her eyes.

"This contains a piece of my heart. It represents my love for you as a friend and my commitment to our friendship, no matter where it leads." She noted the warm glow around the heart. He placed the heart between her breasts, where it melted into her chest. She could feel the comforting warmth spread from her chest through her entire body.

Next he brought out a delicately carved wooden box and opened it. From the box, he pulled out a dime-sized silver disc and a small cylinder that looked like a silver pencil eraser. "With these, you'll never have to worry about whether or not you are giving me the kind of spanking I need," he explained as he placed the little disc on the hollow at the base of his neck. As his body absorbed the disc, he pointed to his neck. "This is a special transmitter that will tell whoever is wearing this," he handed her the cylinder, "exactly what I need. When to spank, when to pause, when to scold, when to let your hand do the talking, even how hard to spank."

She took the cylinder from him and looked him in the eye. "Really?"

"Absolutely. And the more you use it, the more clearly you'll hear the instructions. I have a similar set to help me give you the kind of spankings you need. Would you like me to give it to you?"

She smiled, nodded "yes" and they embraced tightly. When she opened her eyes, they were back in the so-called real world. Yet she could still feel the physical warmth of that golden heart he had given her. Soon afterwards, his pants were down and he was lying across her lap as she quickly turned his bared bottom red hot and tingly with her no longer wimpy hand.

And now, just a few weeks later, as Greg lay in a familiar position, he thought about the mixed feelings he had about how quickly Alicia had learned to read his needs. On the one hand, once the spanking had ended, he felt remarkably cleansed and liberated. The embracing, cuddling and kissing that inevitably followed were wonderful and the sheen of perspiration on her torso from the exertion of spanking him was such an incredible turn on for him that he wanted to lick the salty fluid off every square inch of her.

On the other hand, Alicia's spankings had become very trying ordeals. There were times when he felt he just couldn't take any more of the torturous punishment, yet just at the point when he thought he was at his breaking point, she paused, cooed words of encouragement in his ear, then proceeded to methodically, yet lovingly take him over the edge so that he could be the bawling, out of control little boy he longed to be. The combination of thrill, fear, soul purging pain and ultimate release of her spankings were an emotional roller coaster of such intensity that would make a ride on the space shuttle seem tame by comparison.

For her part, spanking Greg was just as special an experience for Alicia. She loved every aspect of administering a spanking. To Alicia, it was almost like a religious sacrament, affirming the power of her femininity. Greg's bottom was so ripe for spanking - just the right size, shape and firmness. She reveled in the feel of his bare cheeks under her hand and the way they bounced just so as she spanked them. The pure sensuality of the spanking invigorated her.

It stimulated all of her senses - the sight of those luscious cheeks jiggling and compressing as she painted them red with her hand and brush; the distinctive percussive sounds of hand, wood and leather meeting bare flesh, along with his whimpers, which would evolve into sobbing and bawling; the tingle in her spank hand and the feel of his warm body nestled on her lap, with his manhood growing and shrinking and growing and once in a while leaving a warm, sticky deposit on her bare thigh; and finally the subtle combined scents of his fear, release and their mutual arousal.

But the sensory cornucopia was only the beginning of her pleasure in spanking him. When he gave himself to her like that, she felt honored by his trust in her, that he would feel safe enough with her to allow himself to be so vulnerable with her. That surrender of his power was a special gift to her which she relished, as was the way in which he received her gifts of cleansing pain and nurturing love between two friends who shared a special closeness that most people could not begin to understand.

Each time she spanked him, it felt easier, more natural and, as a result, ultimately more joyful for her. Right now, as she delivered a rapid volley of hand spanks to his left cheek, she knew it was time for him to stand in the corner for a while, to stew in his juices and get deeper into sub-space. She stood him up and had him pull up his underpants and slacks just before marching him to the corner where she had him lower them so that his red bottom would be on display.

She had learned that when his sniffling began, it was time to give him a brief but intense flood of physical sensation, then Corner Time to let him contemplate his fate and the actions (real or imagined) that brought him to this place. Even 10 minutes in the corner was enough to get him into an almost frenzied state of agitation and emotional turmoil that she was only too happy to relieve with her punishing hand, though at times the wait was almost as difficult for her as it was for him.

Seven minutes passed, when she noticed Greg fidgeting and slyly reaching back to rub his bottom. She heeded this non-verbal request for attention by propping her leg up, bending him over it and smacking his bottom a few dozen times, scolding him for not standing still as ordered. She knew from experience that spanks from this position felt very different than OTK, a bit deeper and more intense, as verified by his quiet sobbing.

Corner Time ended. Alicia ordered him to re-clothe himself and stand in front of her. She stood and began walking around him, telling him how childish his behavior was and how badly he needed this spanking. She told him that if he was going to insist on acting like a baby, she would soon have him crying like one and that by the time she was done with him, his bottom would shine brighter than the 10 mile high beacon at the top of the Luxor Hotel in Las Vegas. Then she made him strip completely nude, warning him there would be extras if he did not carefully and neatly fold his clothes and place them on the table.

She sat down on the sofa, lifting the hem of her skirt to reveal her creamy, silky smooth thighs and motioned for him to lie across them. She could feel his semi-erect penis pressed against the firm flesh, with just a touch of moisture leaking out the end. She adjusted his body so that his spank reddened bottom was at just the right angle and elevation, bending over to lightly kiss the crimson flesh, allowing her fingertips to gently graze the scorching surface of his flaming flanks.

And with that, she began the next phase of his spanking, reheating the flesh with the searing heat of her solid hand as it sharply came down again and again. The pace was steady and relentless. Soon, her efforts were rewarded with a renewal of his tears. She gently cooed encouragement to him, "I know it hurts sweetheart. It needs to hurt so you can cry. It's OK. Take some deep breaths and just let it go. I'm going to help you by spanking you really hard now. Are you ready?"

He took a deep breath and reluctantly nodded between hiccups. With that, she picked up the heavy, smooth backed wooden hairbrush that they both so loved and dreaded. It was time to bring in the heavy artillery and this was the weapon of choice in her battle to conquer his resistance and will. Again and again, she sharply snapped the smooth wood against his darkening backside, focusing on the fleshy mounds and lower cheeks. His body bucked and bounced over her lap. His cries grew louder and louder as she continued to wail away. Every few strokes, she would lovingly tell him, "It's OK honey. Let it go. Just let it all out. You need this." He could feel the love behind both the words and the spanks, and yet they could both feel that there was one hurdle yet to come.

Alicia took a deep breath and stopped spanking her friend. Thanks to that magical earpiece Greg had given her, she could clearly hear that he was on the verge of cracking, but that he needed something different. Her hand, and especially the hairbrush were "stingy" sensations, with the brush feeling like hundreds of sharp nails being slammed a full inch and a half below the surface of his behind. The voice told her that now he needed the burning kiss of supple leather, which produced a sting that was closer to the surface of the skin, but blazingly hot. Fortunately, she anticipated this possibility and had brought a wide leather belt, which she had within easy reach.

Alicia gently rubbed and kissed Greg's scalding cheeks, and just cradled the manchild on her lap, whispering words of endearment to him as he lay there. "You've taken your spanking like a good boy, Greg. We're almost done. But there's still a bit of naughtiness hiding in you that we need to get out. It's a stubborn little fellow, but he has to go and I think you know that. I don't like to hurt you, but I love you enough to put you over my knee when you need it and today you really need it, don't you?"

He gulped out a quiet, "Yes, ma'am."

She debated as to whether or not to keep him over her lap or to have him bend over the back of the couch so she could have better leverage with the strap. "He needs the contact of being across your lap," his psychic coach told her. Looking down at the quivering figure, she concurred and wrapped the belt around her hand until only an 8" loop extended outward.

"Give him several series of 10 strokes with breaks in between to see how he's doing," she was instructed. When she mentally asked how many series it would take, the answer came back, "Probably three or four." Alicia tightened her grip on Greg's body, hugging him closer to her and encouraging him to squeeze her leg for support as she brought her arm up for the first volley of 10.

Her method was simple. Strap him so quickly that one stroke could not be distinguished from another. Instead, he would experience a cathartic burning which would spread throughout his bottom and just get hotter with each stroke. Then, during the pause, the impact of what he had endured would sink in and his cries grow louder, especially as she gently rubs his bottom, occasionally allowing her fingers to stray deep between his cheeks.

SNAP! SNAP! SNAP! The belt came down again another 10 times. His cries grew louder. He was right on the edge. She just needed to push him a little more. The third time, was in fact the charm. Between the 7th and 8th stroke of the third volley, the dam broke, as was his remaining resistance. Sobs gave way to a flood of gut wrenching tears and release. Alicia couldn't help but cry a bit herself as she helped Greg up so that he could sit on her lap.

They held each other tightly with Greg's head resting on Alicia's bosom. She stroked his hair and continued to cradle him against her soaking wet blouse, made all the wetter by Greg's salty tears soaking onto one covered breast, while his sweat filled right hand cupped her other breast like a child getting ready to nurse.

Alicia unbuttoned her blouse and lifted his head long enough to part the wet fabric. She again cradled the manchild to her now exposed breast, which he began to hungrily suckle, while holding her tightly. Breathing deeply herself, she allowed her fingers to explore both the raging fire she had lit in his backside, and the firm, fleshy tent pole on the other side. One of the things that both Alicia and Greg enjoyed about their spanking sessions was the intimate way in which the spankee was consoled, and this was no exception.

An hour later, with their relative states of undress unchanged, and they quenched their thirsts with large quantities of cold water, Greg grinned at Alicia. "Whew! I really needed that. Thanks."

"You sure did sweetie," she replied and with a grin even bigger than his, added, "and it was my pleasure."

Greg slipped on a loosely fitting pair of shorts, gingerly sat down on couch and patted his thigh. "I believe it's your turn now."


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