Susan and The Midnight Spanker

Where Aunt Bridget fitted into the family I can’t imagine. My father was a barrister and my mother a journalist on the Guardian and we grew up in Hampstead with all that implied, unostentatious privilege and left wing ideals.

Aunt Bridget on the other hand lived on a farm in darkest Devon and was the possessor of the reddest cheeks and the strongest West Country burr you have ever heard. Her life and ours seemed to bear no resemblance to each other, but when my sister and I were packed off from time to time to stay with her we loved our period of resin scented fires, hot apple pies and washing at a huge stone sink in the kitchen.

But what we loved most of all were her stories to which we listened with rapt attention and the great open eyes of the young and incredulous.









 And there was one in particular that always left us hugging to each other for safety in the heat of our bedding as we tried to stay awake wondering if tonight would be when it happened.

“If you’re bad girls,” She would tell us as we sipped our scalding coco before we went to bed. “Just when you’re in the deepest sleep, the Midnight Spanker will come for you, and then you’ll be for it!”

“And what will he do?” We asked knowing from the last time she told us but wanting to be terrified even further by hearing it again.

“What do you think he’ll do? I’ll tell you shall I? He’ll pull you out of bed, all sleepy and confused, and you’ll go straight across is knee. That’s what. Then he’ll pull your night dress right up and get good and ready to spank your naughty bare bottoms for all the bad things you’ve done.”

“But if I wear really thick knickers,” I’d always ask “Maybe it wouldn’t be too bad.”



 “Won’t make a scrap of difference. He’ll pull them right down because he knows that a good crisp spanking on a bare bottom is twice as effective. He knows better than anybody just how much it stings and smarts.”





 Even at that young and innocent age that we were, somehow the idea of a man pulling our knickers down was illicit and naughty and it made our insides thrill with something we simply didn’t understand.

“And now he’s got you like this,” She’d go on “So you can’t get away and you’re at his mercy he’ll ask you if you’ve been naughty or not and what bad things you’ve done. And do you know what?”

And of course we wanted to know, her words rooting us to the spot with fear and fascination.

 “Of course you’ll want to tell him that you’ve been as good as gold, but you can’t! Not for a second! Because it’s not possible to tell him a lie, much as you might want to. Somehow you just have to tell him the truth, and then, when he knows more about you than anyone on earth, you can imagine what happens next, can’t you.”

“Then he spanks us!” We’d chorus. “Spanks us and spanks us really hard till we’ve learned to be good!”





 “Exactly!” She’d say. “So you two had better make sure you’re good girls so he never pays you a visit.”





Of course he never paid us a visit, and with the sort of liberal upbringing we had our bottoms remained safely unspanked and it seemed they would stay that way ever. I didn’t know, indeed had never even heard of anybody who had actually been spanked, but every now and then in a film or book there would be a reference to some poor girl being taken across a teacher’s knee or, and I always founds this strangely exciting, receiving a spanking from her husband or boyfriend, and my aunt’s story would come back bringing a weirdly pleasurable knot in my stomach.










 Those times apart I’d almost completely forgotten it, but it came back to mind years later when as a very sophisticated and grown up young lady, now a journalist like my mother, I was travelling to Greece with John my new boyfriend who had to attend an engineering conference in Athens. To take full advantage of the trip we had rented a fisherman’s cottage on Zandathos, one of the most remote of the Greek islands, and the plan was that I would stay there on my own for about a week and he would then come and join me.

On the flight over he had made some joking reference to giving me a spanking if I didn’t keep the cottage nice and tidy for when he turned up and it all came back to me. I told him all about my aunt’s story and found my insides again churning with a strange mixture of nervousness and excitement and the two of us kissing with far more passion than might have been appropriate for a couple of passengers in business class.





The island was paradise, a haven of peace, solitude, burning sun and crystal sea, a perfect place to relax and read,




 and of course to masturbate.



Did I not tell you that I had grown up to be a slut? Hard working and quietly behaved yes, but my refuge since my early teens had been sex, and fidelity was completely beyond me, my body always in a state of impatient availability for invasion by the nearest handsome man with a hungry erection or any pretty girl with an innocent curiosity about commerce with her own sex. Failing that the expertise of my own fingers never let me down.

Sex in all its wonderful glory was a drug I could not do without, and left to own devices in a place where at every moment I was in a state of dreamy ennui with my body caressed by the sun and all my senses stimulated by the sights and perfumes of the island my need for it was magnified.


On the second day I became friends with Helen, the young daughter of the owner of the small café on the harbour front an on the third day we were lovers. Olive skinned and with eyes like black pebbles her rich bodily beauty was carefully disguised by simple modest clothes but I had no difficulty in seeing the sexual creature she was underneath.



 


She was on holiday from university, pleased to have a female friend with whom she could talk about her hopes and plans and of course her love life or lack of it. When I dropped a subtle hint that maybe I may have once allowed myself to be kissed by one of the fair sex and that just between the two of us it had been quite enjoyable, in turn she dropped a hint of her own.


Back at the cottage we shyly undressed each other and then started to kiss and fondle and explore each other bodies with increasing intensity till a couple of hours later and orgasmed to exhaustion she had to go home to help out at the family café.





 For the next three days we mined each others bodies for pleasure with ever more hungry intensity, me glorying in her wondrous innocence and ripe curves, and she unable to believe the treasure trove of Sapphic joy I had introduced her to.


 


At night however I was back to pleasuring myself as actually sleeping with her was out of the question, our liaison at all times having to be kept secret. In a small and close knit community like this one, had what we were up to been discovered we would both have probably been burned as witches.



It was the Thursday night in the early hours that it happened. I was snuggled deep in to my bed, a light sheet my only cover. I had taken to wearing one of the garments I had bought on the island as a night dress, a lose cheesecloth top as thin and light as a child’s kiss, its token covering along with a pair of skimpy panties somehow giving me a sense of security. I was in that wonderfully narcotic state of neither awake nor asleep and involuntarily slipping a hand down inside my panties to stroke my somulent pleasure button when I realised the someone was outside my bedroom door.


Too frightened even to move I lay there frozen to the pillow as the door slowly opened to reveal a man in a mostly unbuttoned shirt standing there in the moonlight.

“I’ve come for you.” The man said in a voice I instantly recognised. “You know who I am and I have some long overdue business with you.”

My aunt had accurately told us that The Midnight Spanker would be wearing a nightshirt, but she had not said that it would be open at the front or that this nocturnal visitor would be so fiercely erect he looked as if it might burst from the pressure of its own arousal.




 Not only was this a man on a mission, it was one he was already thoroughly enjoying. “Come here, Susan.” He said. “It’s time you were spanked for all your naughtiness.”

And as if he had been doing this all his life he took hold of my wrist and pulled me towards him, then, sitting down on the end of the bed he pulled my unresisting body across his knee, the quivering flagpole of his erection now standing sentinel over me.

 

Churning with confusion, fear and the weirdest arousal I lay there over his knee with my brain scarcely able to catch up with what was going on the fact that out of nowhere I was in this humiliating yet strangely exciting position. What I had no doubt about was that John was going to spank me and that I had better accept the fact as resistance would clearly be impossible. Never once in my entire life had my bottom been smacked and I had no idea how painful it would be, but I knew that somehow all my years of sexual misbehaviour had brought me to this and that it was my destiny to at last be punished for it.

“You know who I am, don’t you?” He asked me, his hand stroking my upturned bottom through the gossamer of the cheesecloth

“You’re The Midnight Spanker, Sir” I answered dutifully, and suddenly I was a child again and in my Aunt’s cottage and the moment I had always been afraid of was actually happening at last.

“Exactly.” He answered, his voice honeyed with his power to do anything to me he liked. He was fit and strong and the cottage was a good few miles from the nearest habitation and any cries for help I might let out would only be heard by a handful of goats. “And its time that wicked bottom of yours received the attention it’s needed for some time.”

And even as he spoke he slid the cheese cloth up my thighs and all the way to the small of my back, its caress sending a little thrill to my over sensitive flesh.




 “And what do you have to tell me, young Susan? What wickedness do I have to spank you for?” His hand now was curled over the uppermost part of my thigh so the tips of his fingers were just inside the leg of my panties and brushing against my cleft and already moist with the tell tale juices that had started to seep even from the very second he had taken me over his knee.


“I’m a bad a wicked girl, Sir.” I found myself saying, overwhelmed with the need to tell him exactly what sort of girl his new lover was.” I masturbate whenever I can and I have done all sorts of things with a whole stream of men.”

 “What sort of thing?” He asked, his voice now tinged with a new layer of arousal, his hand now right inside my knickers and unambiguously exploring the swells of my bottom and the dark secret between my legs.

“I let them fuck me.” I found myself saying, turned on by the sound of my own words and the need to be humiliated and punished. “And I love to suck their cocks and feel their sperm gush down my throat.



 


I love to strip off and excite them so they go all stiff and hard, and I love it most of all when they tie and blindfold me then wank all over me so my face and breasts are running with sperm.

 


Even worse…..”

“Yes?” He said, dragging my panties down to mid thigh and caressing my now naked bottom with new hunger, his voice now with a new and urgent edge to it. “What else?”


“I’ve been fucking a young girl here on the island.” I answered realising the truth of what my Aunt had told me that it was not possible to lie to this nocturnal phantom who was here to punish bad girls like me. “Helen at the café. Every moment I get I’ve been stripping and licking her, fingering and tonguing her to….”

I didn’t finish as my words were cut of by the sound of my own scream. A fierce hard spank had landed on my upturned and all too tender flesh, the first I had ever experienced, the shock combined with the sheer unexpected pain of it bringing me sharply back to the reality of what was happening to me. This might be a new and exciting erotic experience, but there was far more to it than that. My nightdress was up to my armpits, my knickers were pulled right down and I was pinned across the knee of an over excited male animal who was clearly rabid to give me the spanking of a lifetime.


Even as I was coming to terms with the savage reality of it he set in to spank me in earnest, his hard engineer’s hand scourging my naked flesh with a fierce intensity, spank after punitive spank burning their message into me that I was here to be punished and there was no escape.





 I had clearly gone too far. Had I given him some token confession of pretend naughtiness the chances were that I would have be given an equally token spanking before nature took its inevitable course, but I had said to much, told him the truth about what a filthy little whore I really was under my quiet exterior. And that I had been fucking young Helen’s sweet body was almost certainly probably the final nail in my bottom’s coffin.

“You dirty filthy little…..” He was genuinely angry and couldn’t stop himself, spanking me as hard as he could, each burning slap combining a savage anger with a clinical determination to ensure that every single inch of my bottom would be scorched with punishment. I was wriggling like a fish, bawling and mewling in protest, but I was helpless to stop his mission to teach me a lesson for being the dirty slut that I knew I was and with metronome precision it went on.




It was beyond all bearing, but suddenly, and I’m not sure where the change came from, but as a wondered if this would ever stop a folk memory of being at my Aunt’s cottage and listening to her words suddenly invaded my mind. Instantly my long held belief that maybe had I been spanked when younger I might have learned some sexual self restraint melded with those almost forgotten childhood thrills of fearful excitement and out of nowhere I was a child again and this man roasting my bare bottom really was the mythical Midnight Spanker and that I truly deserved this for all my naughtiness.

In my mind I could visualise exactly what was happening to me as if it were on a screen in front of me, me pinned helplessly over his knee being spanked with my knickers down, something that been a long buried and subconscious fantasy was now a painful and humiliating reality. More than that, this man who was at last giving me what I deserved and needed had a huge and urgent erection that was l looming over me, all ready to consummate my punishment at the appropriate time.

 

Instantly the burning pain tuned into something else, my insides filling with liquid sweetness and I could feel my intimate parts contracting in the early stages of climax. As if he knew, he paused his punishing attention and leaned down to speak to me.

“Susan, maybe if you admit that you deserve this spanking, then…


“Oh I do, Sir!” I cried. “I do, and a lot more.”

“Then maybe…”

And suddenly it was over and we were in an urgency of readjustment, ripping our few remaining garments off each other before his overheated erection was thrust deep into me and we fucked till we were exhausted.

 








“But why?” I asked as we snuggled together in the comfort of the bed, our sexual urgency temporarily sated.



 “I mean, I can guess why the thought of being the Midnight Spanker from my Aunt’s story could well have turned you on. When you first pulled me over your knee it had me really excited as well. But why, I mean, why did you spank me so hard? You were really angry with me. I’m not saying I didn’t deserve it one way and another, but I can’t believe that you didn’t know that I’ve always had a healthy sexual appetite. Why did it suddenly get you so cross when I spelled it out?”

He laughed then gave me a kiss. “Yes, I did get a bit carried away didn’t I? It’s my turn for a confession now. When you told me that story of your Aunt’s I could tell that you had an urgent need to be spanked, even if you didn’t actually realise it. I’m only human and I couldn’t get the thought of putting you across my knee out of my mind during the whole conference in Athens.”

“Yes, OK. But why did you get so cross suddenly and spank me so hard? You really meant to teach me a lesson.”

“Yes I did, didn’t I. What triggered it was that I had a quiet holiday here on my own last year and I often used the café at the harbour. If you must know I had a big thing about Helen, really fancied her, but never tried to do anything about it as she looked so quiet and virginal, and anyway I felt that as one of the islanders she was off limits. Then I find that you had been having her and I had a sudden rush of jealousy which was bad timing for you as there you were over my knee with your knickers down.”

“You are a dreadful wicked man, John Smith.”

 “And you are a naughty little girl who clearly needs regular spankings to keep her in order.”





For a while nether of us spoke, occupied no doubt by our different thoughts, then I broke he silence. “She’s got a lovely body, Helen that is. Beautiful kissable breasts and a bottom moulded in heaven.”





 “Do you want me to spank you again?”

 “Almost certainly, but not this second. The thing is, quiet looking girls like Helen often turn out to be the worst, and there’s no doubt she has an insatiable erotic curiosity. I mean maybe the three of us could get together one afternoon, have a little retsina and see how things develop. You never know do you.”

Next to me in the bed I could feel his cock growing back to quivering hardness and I took it between my fingers and explored its shape.

 “And after all, look what trouble she nearly caused us. Maybe a little spanking would do her good. First you could watch while I give her a little preliminary one, then….”