Spank! starts off with a sexy little story called “Just a Spanking.”
“Excuse you for what?”
“Where’s your lead? Don’t you want to write something like, ‘Spank! delivers a wallop’?”
“Have you been reading my review copies again?”
“You leave a book called Spank! with a sultry cover like that out on the nightstand, and I…”
“Well, I took the hint.” He cracks the spine and begins reading:
‘I guess I’ll just have to hit your harder,’ he says and follows through on his promise.
Thwack! Slap! Even he couldn’t possibly have the strength to keep this up. Agony stitches across my lacerated flesh each time his hand finds its mark.
“Oh, yes, that’s from the opener by Lisabet Sarai,” I say, remembering fondly.
“You had the page dog-eared.”
“For return visits.”
“You’re planning on returning to all of these?” He brandishes the book, with the multitude of bent-over pages.
“I like re-reading my favorites.”
“No, not usually. I tend to sprawl in the bed with the book in one hand and my Rabbit in the other.”
“Let’s try aloud.” He hands me the book. I open to the first bent corner selection, from a story called “Thin-Skinned” by Jean Roberta:
I wanted to spank her without mercy for making me worry so much about losing her….
“No, not like that.” I look at him. “Bend over the sofa and recite me the parts you marked. I’ll be doing some marking of my own.”
I should have known better. When D.L. King asked if I would read and review Spank! I ought to have requested a PDF, because here I am, attempting to write the review, but now forced to bend over for the man.
I make a big show of setting down my pencil and picking up the book. As I drag my feet over to the sofa, I wish like hell I’d put on long johns, fleece sweatpants, a flannel robe, a suit of armor—instead, I’m wearing the naughty nightie he gave me for Christmas, nearly translucent crimson silk, over matching panties. My husband waits while I get into position. I open the book to the second bent-over page.
“Name and title, if you please.”
“This one is from Anna Black, called “Elementary My Dear, Sir.””
“I like the sound of that.”
He slowly rubbed his hand over her rear, his smooth palm pressing hard against her flesh.
“Nice.” He does exactly what the book says. “Choose another.”
“This is from “Sugar” by Sommer Marsden.”
My bottom burns, my pussy lets loose a warm and shameful slick of excitement, and he pushes his fingers into me again. ‘Jesus, Sheila. Look at you. Look at this.’ He holds his fingers under my nose and in the fairy lights that dot the ornamental trees, I see it. The wet evidence of how easy I am. I feel like the stars in the midnight velvet sky are watching us.
“I can see why you’d return to that clip,” he says, sliding his own fingers between my thighs.
Punishment first, forgiveness afterwards. Isn’t that the best way?
“You didn’t give title and author.” He spanks me once, hard.
“This one is called “Slippering” by Lee Ash.”
Yes, darling,” she repeated. Jake turned to Duncan. “For modesty’s sake, I could slipper her like this, but I always think that the fabric of her knickers might cushion some of the blow.
“That is a problem,” Sam agrees, pulling my own knickers down. Fuck me for choosing that particular excerpt at that particular time. “Next.”
“This is… “Richard’s Reward” by D.L. King.” I’m stuttering over the words because Sam is punctuating each phrase with a stinging spank.
Poor Richard had a difficult time keeping his legs apart and each time he’d bring them together and clench his bottom, she’d stop and gently tease them apart with the head of the crop.
She paid special attention to the sweet spot where his thighs met his rear end. The cropping went on until he was rolling uncontrollably against her lap and she heard him sniffle.
Sam spanks me faster and harder now, so hard I can hardly read the next excerpt. But Sam being Sam, he doesn’t allow for excuses like crying. I wipe my eyes on my arm and continue. “This is from “What Jackie Gives Me” by Evan Mora:
‘Get yourself off, you dirty bitch.’
I moan then, already half lost in the crazy rush of pleasure-pain his words and his cock and his vicious, beautiful hands deliver, but grateful still for the permission he’s given. He could have denied me any kind of release; Jackie can be cruel.
“So can I.”
I know that, which is why I’m relieved and grateful when Sam runs one of his large hands under my body and begins to strum his fingers against my clit. I let the book fall to the sofa cushion and I close my eyes.
“You chose that last excerpt on purpose,” he says as I come.
“I didn’t,” I insist.
“You think this is a good time to argue with me?” I bite my lip and shake my head. “What will your review be?”
He grabs the book from my hand and gives me a solid ten strokes with the collection. “Good, bad, indifferent?”
“Oh, good,” I say, standing up and rubbing my sore behind. And it is good. A good, solid spank of a book (or a book to spank with solidly)—to dip in and out of in any manner you choose.