Room 431

A neat little story of a family spanking

By Rob Burton

The warmth of her thighs on my hot, red, tingling bottom felt strange and yet it wasn’t unpleasant as we sat together upon the small blue and white armchair in room 431 of the Hilton Hotel. My arm held her waist, my face nuzzled into her long warm neck. Sobs muffled as the salty tears ran down my increasingly tear stained cheeks and onto her shoulder. Her fingers of one hand gently massaging my thick black silky hair while the other hand was rubbing my back gently through the cotton top. All the time she was whispering: “Sssh! It all over now baby,” in my left ear. Her breath in my ear also left a tingle.

She eased my face away from my hiding place until I was looking at her, her smile warm as she brushed my hair away from my eyes and softly wiped the tears away. The ruby red lips touched mine, not a kiss, just a peck. It too left a tingle inside me. I wanted to hide my face back in the comforting nape of her neck but she ever so gently held my neck to prevent me. Another peck as her right hand slipped under my top and her nails traced patterns up and down my side. The touches of her lips and fingers were exciting me; this together with the tingling hot sensation of my red bottom on her lap had me sexually aroused.

It was barely two hours ago that I had stood nervously outside the door and with trepidation had timidly knocked. A moment later and there she stood, smiling and welcoming me in. We chatted about this, that and nothing as she poured me a glass of wine. She, as usual, wanted to know all about my boring life and the gossip. There never was any, of course, except for the days when I visited room 431.

We finished the wine and I saw the look upon her face, a smile like the cat that had got the cream, as she rose and walked across to the bed. I watched in wonderment as she sat, and with grace and poise drew the hem of her black dress up to reveal her stocking tops and silk white thighs. I squirmed in the seat.

There were no words said to command me up out of the seat and across to stand beside her. She had finished her preparations and, turning towards me, I felt her eyes drawing me to the inevitable. So I found myself by her knees. My eyes looked down at her thighs, my fingers nervously rubbing the edges of my skirt, awaiting the command or look to carry out the next part.

The blue skirt slid slowly up my thighs as the two hands gripped the hem either side. I felt the cold air sensation on my bare thighs as they became ever more exposed. Satisfied that it was high enough and bunched around my waist she took the waistband of my pink and white lace panties and eased them gently, deliberately and slowly, down to my thighs and stopped at my knees. I felt another chill, this time between my legs, as the cold air reached the warmth that had covered it.

I watched all this, my hands behind my back, as I nervously rubbed my fingers together. I looked at her, watching and waiting for the signal that would see me go across her knee. It did not come straight away as she had stroked my thighs with her finger tips after she had arranged my panties around my knees.

Her face tilted up and with a smile she gestured me to lay across her thighs. Those sleek black stocking covered thighs that seemed to invite me with the same smile that their owner had. The black dress that was tucked just right to save her modesty. Lowering myself gently and with her guidance I was in position. My thighs and tummy felt the silky sensation of her stockings as my hands touched the fibres of the carpet. My hair fell about my face as I wiggled to get comfortable. Then I waited with anticipation.

SMACK!

Today there was to be none of the finger tip stroking of my upturned cheeks that she so loved to tease me with. I felt her left arm around my waist and smack, without any warning.

Smack, smack, smack!

Followed by another set of hard hand smacks across one cheek, then the other, and then back again. With each smack I felt the warmth grow in both my bottom and my face. One after another she smacked, each feeling a little harder than the last.

Smack, smack, smack!

I closed my eyes and bit my bottom lip as I felt her palm rub my warm cheeks. The sensation was electric; I squirmed with the enjoyment of the gentle massage. All too soon it was over and back to the left, right whacks across my poor bum. What had it ever done to deserve this? (A lot actually but that is another story.)

The warmth grew into hot and the pain of every slap became more intense as I increasingly squirmed across her lap. Tears that I knew would be inevitable had started to form in my eyes. Every few minutes she would stop and soothe my cheeks of fire.

Smack, smack, smack!

I do not now how long she had spanked me for. I lost all track of time the moment I entered the room. It seemed longer than normal, but then what was normal? The tears that had formed in my eyes had now started to drip onto the green carpet; I could see them forming a small wet patch. I knew it was all over when I felt the real hard smack right where my bum meets my thighs. I sucked my breath in hard at this, my legs involuntary scissored with the new pain. She did this every time but each time it caught me unawares.

I remained across the thighs in the aftermath of my punishment until she helped me to my feet. I wobbled for a moment before coming to attention in the position I knew she would expect. I stood before her, my arms by my sides, looking at her through tearful eyes. She smiled and told me I could look. I hesitated before looking over my right shoulder towards the mirror that would show me the rear view. It was red, very red. My whole bottom was one big red tomato. I heard her rise and I looked at her as she took my hand. Back across to the armchair where she sat down.

So that is how I got to this position where I now find myself. The gentle fingers caressing me after my punishment, the punishment which I look forward to when Jane Middleton is in town. Of course I also enjoy the afters as well, perhaps a little too much. I often think would I enjoy the spanking without them.

* * *

All too soon I have to re-arrange my clothing and with a hug I prepare to leave. She holds the door as I look into her eyes, those deep green eyes that always make me go weak at the knees. I feel her hand stroke my arm as she says to give her love to her son and that she hopes that he is being a good husband and father. With those words I walk out and down the corridor, my bum feeling the rubbing sensation of my skirt as I head towards the lift and home until the next time I receive an invite to room 431.

The End


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