An Unusual Courtship, Chapter 8

Copyright Mael DelaVara

Now that he was standing erect, Michael wanted to bolt, but his pants and underwear had him in a double bind around his ankles. He was unhappy at the pace of the morning's events. If there was going to be a spanking, let's just get it over with so that they could enjoy the promised dinner date.

"Sit, please." Michael found himself back in the armchair.

"Why did you come here today?" Audrey did not give Michael a chance to reply. "You know you were going to get a spanking. And a harsh one. Because you know how I feel about your jacking off."

Audrey surprised herself at the crudeness of her expression. She prided herself on always being a lady, and she ordinarily would have used a clinical term like masturbation or a euphemism like self-abuse. She began to worry that she did not have herself completely under control.

"Do you want a spanking?" She felt her face flushing. "Is this something that turns you on? I mean you do have a hard-on." Once again she slipped into language coarser than she would typically use.

Michael's blush was deeper than hers, and in an attempt to conceal it, he looked down at his bulge and said, "I like you; I don't like to be spanked."

Audrey was not convinced. "Were you ever spanked as a child?"

"Well, every toddler gets a tap on the butt now and then. But I don't remember that."

Audrey had begun to notice an evasiveness in Michael's character. It was not an attractive trait.

"Do you remember any spanking from your childhood?" Audrey's lips curled expectantly.

"Well, I was whipped once by my aunt."

"How old were you?"

"Jeez, eleven or twelve, I suppose."

"And what for?"

"O, my cousin got me into trouble."

"What were you boys up to?"

"No, no, it was Lizzie."

Audrey's eyes narrowed with suspicion. "What were you doing with Lizzie?"

"Well, I was in her room and she screamed."

Audrey was becoming irritated with Michael's habit of answering her questions as if he was a defendant in court proceedings, telling the truth but not the whole truth.

"Why did she scream?"

Michael shuffled his feet. "Well, a boy at school told me that women had, you know, hair down there, just like men, and I wanted to see if it was true."

Audrey clenched her teeth to suppress a burst of laughter. "Well, did you see anything?"

"No, no. Lizzie screamed and my Aunt came in and whipped me."

"How?"

Michael was taken aback at the specificity of the question. After all, a whipping was a whipping. It was no big deal.

"She had a switch."

"Did she pull down your pants?"

"Yes."

"Right in front of Lizzie."

"Yes"

"That must have been embarrassing."

"I suppose so. I didn't think about it at the time. It all happened so quickly."

"How many strokes did you get?"

"Ten, no it was twelve."

Audrey paused in her questioning and began to look for a way to get Michael to bare his soul.

"How long did the marks last?"

Michael was reluctant to answer.

"You must have looked at them," Audrey insisted. "And what were you doing when you looked at them?"

"About two weeks." Michael's answer was lagging one question behind.

"And what were you doing while you were examining the marks," Audrey persisted.

"I was playing with myself," Michael confessed.