He was writhing, but not in a good way. Floundering was more accurate, desperately drowning in front of her as she gave a muted smile, looking away from him with pity laden in her sparkling blue eyes.
“Ahh, yes,” he mumbled for no reason as the waiter took their empty dinner plates from them, and he wiped his suit for the umpteenth time. They hummed in the silence; he had nothing to say and frantically racked his imagination for words to say to break the lull in the conversation. “My secretary had her baby last week.”
“Oh, did I?” He sighed and licked his lips free of red wine gravy.
“We never had so many problems talking on the Internet,” she mused. “It was more … natural.”
He nodded; it was true: salacious chatter had come easily to them as they talked daily for hours, but nerves had wrestled his confidence into submission when the two had met in person for the first time. He glanced under the table at the laptop bag nestling between her stocking-clad legs. “Shall we?”
“Shall we what?” She asked. “I think we should get the dessert and …”
He wasn’t listening, as he pulled his own notebook from under his seat, and opened it onto the restaurant table. “Talk?”
She giggled at his seriousness: it was the most relaxed he had been all evening, and shook her head as his work laptop connected to the Wifi and he signed into SpankoDating.com. They connected in seconds, their avatars talking on the chatroom in a private chat.
Her blond-haired figure, dressed in stockings and suspenders sat next to his leather-clad man, shaking her red behind at him. “Hello sexy!” She asked; the same greeting she had used every day for a month. “I’ve been a naughty girl.”
“I broke my diet today,” the avatar confessed. “Two Jaffa cakes, and a slice of cake.”
“And a cream latte from the coffee shop.”
“You naughty girl!” He exclaimed, loudly into the restaurant, causing a handful of heads to turn. His date blushed as he typed his outburst. “I’m going to punish you. One spank per calorie!”
She glanced over the top of her laptop. “Tell me,” she mouthed as she typed.
The avatar spoke: “I’m going to pull you over my knee and pull your knickers down to your calves…”
“I’m not wearing any,” she interjected with a guilty smile peeking over the screen, causing him to shift in his seat.
“And then I’m going to flip your gorgeous skirt over your back and rub your peachy buttocks with my hands, rubbing them with my palms. Feeling every pore of your exposed skin.”
She groaned and looked at his eyes dancing over the keyboard. “Yeah? Then what?”
“I’m going to slap that flesh. Hard. Give you the spanking you deserve, throwing my hand over your body and pelting it. I’m going to ignore your pleas for mercy and enjoy your cries. I’m going to spank you so hard, you won’t be able to sit down for a week without being reminded of your gluttonous indiscretions. I’m going to make you cry, which is going to make me fucking hard, as you beg for mercy.”
“Sounds nice,” she murmured.
“It’s going to be hell. As you beg and whimper, cry and squeal, I’m going to hit you harder. I’m going to have you desperate for me to stop, yelling in pain as I turn your arse black and blue, manc_painslut. I’m going to have your pretty bottom covered in more colours than an Andy Warhol masterpiece.”
He paused as his fingers tapped the bezel on his laptop as he pondered. “Then I’m going to take you back to my flat and have you screaming in pleasure and pain, watching your eyes dilate as your body bounces from orgasmic fire to agonising welts. Your going to remember this evening for the rest of your life.”
“Do it,” she muttered.
“What?” He asked, looking up from his screen
“Do it!” She cried loudly, her glazed eyes focusing on him. “Do it. Now! ”
“But …” his gaze searched the restaurant and he rose to his feet, gesturing the young lady to stand. She gulped as he prodded her towards the disabled toilet.
And true to her word, she was without panties. He hauled his date over his knee and wordlessly rubbed her exposed skin, giggling as she writhed under his touch.
The first slap caused a whimper, the second a groan; as the firm strikes of her bare ass reverberated around the toilet.
He told her to count, smacking her 400 times with glee: one for every additional calorie just as he promised, turning her behind pink, red and then black.
She squealed as his firm hand disciplined her, while his wriggling finger located her dripping moistness. Her body begged for relief and she quivered as her sodden crotch played host to his brazen lust.
Her cries filled the room as she panted, squealing under his control and firm touch, when he withdrew his fingers with a cackle. “Maybe later,” he promised to her. “We don’t need our laptops any more?” He asked as the frustrated and sore woman glared at him. “We can take it from here, right?”
She nodded. “Let’s pay up and go!” She breathlessly muttered, as she staggered to her feet, pulling her skirt down. “Come on!”
Featured image used under a CC-license from here.