Chapter 20: Forty

He alternated cheeks, left, right, left. The second was the same as the first, a smack that warmed the skin and did not ask much of me. Three. Four. My body stayed loose as I remained bent over the table, my arms straight, my elbows locked, and my hands flat on the table as I stared at the wall in front of me. My breathing was even and calm. If this was the punishment, I had been overly concerned.

What I had not prepared for was the shame.

I was a grown woman, an ER nurse, bent over a kitchen table getting spanked like a naughty kid who had talked back. The picture of it arrived and would not leave. What would Amber say if she walked in on this? God, it would be the brunt of every joke she told for the next decade. How would Mike react to seeing me like this, or my coworkers, the mothers at the girls’ school pickup line? What would people think of me? Being seen like this would be so much worse than being caught having sex. The position I was in, the arm that kept rising and falling, the big flat palm, the sounds, the count. I felt my face go hot in a way that had nothing to do with my ass.

Five. Six. The warmth on my ass was spreading. So was the other warmth. My pussy clenched on nothing after six, a small greedy pulse, and I was mortified that a spanking was doing it. He was talking now while he did it. He wasn’t raising his voice, but he spoke to me in a controlled, tight manner. “I was in bed,” he said. “It was midnight when your text arrived, and it did not sound like you. I was worried about you, so I got dressed, and I left. I drove to that bar because I care about you, and because, by the way you had not been able to spell, I did not trust any man you might be drinking with.”

I was now getting the other side of the story I had been wanting all day, and now that he was telling me his side, my guilt and shame began to grow in me over what I had done.

Seven landed on the right cheek, a little firmer, and it made me moan. I had not meant to. The number came out on the end of it. “Seven.”

Eight landed, and I moaned again, and counted. Nine elicited a sound I was embarrassed by before I could edit it. I arched. I did not decide to. My back dipped, and my ass lifted so his hand could have more of each cheek, and I heard the difference in the sound when he got the full of me. Embarrassing, my body was answering his spanking like it was a hand between my legs.

“When I got there, you were fall-down drunk,” he said. “Leaning against the good doctor and letting him touch you. Did you know his hand was on your crotch?”

“No, his hand was on my thigh, not my pussy, I remember; I am pretty sure ... I think.”

Ten was much harder than the ones before, and it made me moan deeply.

“Think harder whore, his hand was cupping your cunt. You let that piece of shit touch your cunt. MY CUNT!’