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By (user no longer on site) OP
over a year ago
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You see your phone's screen light up from the corner of your eye where it nestles snugly in your centre-console, a second before the text message alert tone reaches your ears. You glance in your mirrors as well as at the road ahead; the road is empty, but you can never be too careful. Your eyes make out the familiar yellow flag of a bus stop coming up on the left and this one has a bay for buses to pull into as well; perfect! You shift down the gears, and indicate that you're pulling in more out of habit as the road is deserted (hardly surprising for New Years day) before bringing your car to a halt.
You jerk your handbrake on and pick up your phone, selecting the envelope icon, your eyes digesting the fact that it's from one of "those" friends of yours from Fab. With a gleam in your eye you eagerly begin to read, immersing yourself in it's sordid contents... It's well written too (always a pet hate of yours when it isn't) which makes it all the easier for you to get lost in that murky world of your favourite imaginings that you adore visiting so much... Images flash through your mind and you allow yourself to embrace them...and you are becoming vaguely aware that your knickers are feeling just a little sticky where your legs meet, aren't they just! Almost without thinking as you read on, your free hand is sliding slowly like a slithering snake down to your hot delta where it intends to press and squeeze and caress.....
TAP, TAP, TAP!
You are shaken unfairly from your seductive place by cruel reality. You look up uncomprehendingly for a second, before noticing first that the interior of your car, even in the daytime, is being bathed in a flashing orange light and that secondly there is a figure of a man in a luminous vest standing by your passenger door; it is he who has tapped on the window. And his face is wearing an expression of annoyance, his full lips set in a frown, his blue eyes sparkling with impatience. "Are you going to be much longer?" he calls through the glass.
He's not the only one who's annoyed! You hate to be disturbed when your mind is racing down such wickedly delicious paths! You lower your window, taking in his works van with flashing irritating orange beacon and hazards in your rear view mirror as you do so. "I'll take as long as I have to," you reply curtly, "last I checked your vehicle wasn't a bus so I've got as much right to be here as you have." Dismissively you flick the switch to raise your window on him, but he sees this and places the drill he holds in his hand through the closing apperture and you halt the window in it's tracks. "What the hell do you think you're doing?" you snap, "get that out of my car or I'll do something I might regret." (Exactly what it is you plan to do, you have no idea, but you're becoming rather angry to tell the truth)
However the man does no such thing. "Get out of the car," he says, "I'll show you I'm actually authorised to park here, unlike you, then you can go on your merry way. An apology wouldn't go amiss before you do either." You consider this for a second. You're tempted to just drive off without warning, thinking gleefully that perhaps his confounded drill will head off with you if it falls onto the passenger seat. Then you consider the ramifications of a heavy workman's drill flying around inside your car whilst you do. And he's not moving his arm or the drill from where it is. With a hiss of frustration you turn the engine of your car off and leap out of your door.
"Hurry up," you snarl impatiently as he leads you to his van. He throws open the sliding side door and as it hits its restraint you can make out what appears to be a load of bus timetable sheets inside. "It's my job to replace these," he says, "which actually means I have to be parked here to do my work. Whereas you just chose this place on a whim. So if you wouldn't mind moving along, and I'll have your apology while we're at it." You like nothing more than to move on to be honest, you want to get back to your shameful flights of fancy somewhere unbothered by this oaf to be honest, but you're damned if he's going to get the latter of what he wishes for. "Stick your apology up your arse," you reply cheekily, then turn to head back to your car.
That's when the hand closes over your shoulder. "That's not very nice," comes the man's voice, you notice it has a northeastern twang to it, possibly geordie, but somehow not as thickly accented. "I saw what you were doingin your car," he says, "and I appreciate you want to get back to sliding that hand of yours back to that little MaryJane of yours, but I think you need to be taught some manners before you do." You are turning to respond to this when suddenly a strong arm is placed around your midsection and you're being lifted, clear off the floor and placed over his shoulder. He takes two steps to the passenger side cab door of his van and opens it quickly manhandling you inside with him. "What do you think you're -" you start, but he places a large warm palm across your mouth to cut off what you have to say, to him it matters not. He sits down in the roomy cab of the van, sliding you down till you are laid upon your stomach across his lap where he pins you with one arm, reaching out with the hand from your mouth he closes the door and locks it, before returning it to cover your lips....
"Now hush," he says, "for it's time for you to listen." Like you have a choice! you think. "I asked you how much longer you would be," he continues, "and you replied with a mouthful of abuse. Hardly the manners befitting of an elegant lady now is it, and whilst you appear to be just that, and a rather pretty one too, you need to learn a little humility. Now when I was a little one, there was one thing guaranteed to stop me getting out of line and I can only hope it has just such a mollifying effect on your haughtiness too. Six of the best."
Your mind whirls. What the hell is he thinking? Does he honestly mean...? You get your answer in a second, by the man's mouth hand leaving it's job for the far more productive task of digging into your waistband, pulling it down, pausing for a second, perhaps to appreciate fully the delights that are being revealed to him, before clawing around the waist of your knickers and tugging them down too.... Warm air from the blowers washes over your bare buttocks and suddenly you feel very vulnerable indeed......
You struggle, but discover that it is to no avail; it's not just his greater strength, but the fact you are lying on your front, your face in the passenger seat nearest the door and your arms underneath you. "There now," he says calmly, "still a bit of cheek in you I see. Well, that will soon be eradicated. Now take your medicine like a good girl." You suddenly hear a sharp loud slap fill the cab, a fraction of a second before a sharp pain comes from your bottom. You cry out with surprise. Then another louder SMACK! The same sudden stinging erupts in your other cheek, the left one. "Ow!" you say, "it hurts you bastard, stop -" "I'm afraid it has to hurt," the surprise disciplinarian says simply, "and name calling will simply add more spankings to your punishment. Six would be sparing you somewhat now, I feel." You are both angry and humiliated to be in this position.... Then you feel the rush of air on your newly extra sensitised rear this time as his warm bare palm lands upon your right buttock again! A louder SMACK! still.... You yelp out loud. He decides that this is the right intensity for your punishment, for the force is similar to the last, as his palm comes down upon your left cheek again and you whimper.... "Stop," you say, "it stings, oh it stings...." "Indeed it should," he replies, "a lady with a freshly stinging bottom is usually the most sweetly behaved." SMACK! Back to your right moon. SMACK! Now the left. The intensity stays the same, but Oh God, he's spanking you faster now, it's like he's actually enjoying it! Then with a start you realise due to something new and firm pressing into your tummy from underneath, it appears that he most certainly is....
SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! He rains his hand down upon your bare behind in quick succession now and you notice that your skin is beginning to feel quite hot.... SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK!" "Ow, ow, ow...." you cry softly, and the hard protuberance underneath seems to be swelling engorging as if it feeding upon your suffering. Oh, yes, your captor is enjoying this alright, make no bones about it! (But, whisper it quietly, aren't you....?)
He brings his palm down hard and fast, seven, eight, nine times in rapid time, beating a tattoo upon your poor little bottom, before finally deciding that the amount of that particular discipline he has metered out is sufficient.
You half raise your head, and he sees that your lips are no longer twisted into a sneer with anger flashing in your eyes... No your expression is one of penitance, your eyes moist and your cheeks flushed with embarrassment and.... something else. It satisfies him. "That's better," he says. Suddenly he is fiddling with something at his waist, you hear that unmistakeable metal clinking sound a second before you realise it's the sound of a belt buckle being unfastened... More fumbling ensues and suddenly that hard ridge pressing into your abdomen feels a lot closer, harder and hotter....
The man strokes your hair softly, like he would a kitten. "All that remains," he says, "is that apology I spoke of. And you are going to apologise in the finest way a lady can possibly apologise to a gentleman. Then I will show you how grateful I am to receive your apology, fittingly in the finest way a gentleman can show his goodwill to a lady. And I can promise you that it won't hurt one little bit. Quite the opposite...."
You feel that hot thing slide against your neck as he moves you manfully down, and it puts you in mind of a hot iron bar, clad in soft skin if such an object existed. And now it is against your lips.
His hand abruptly stops softly stroking your hair and now twists into it, gripping it hard in his fist so that his clenched fingers have your hair bunched up against your scalp."Now for that apology." He pushes down firmly.
And that length of his unrepentant fully hardened prick slides eagerly into your mouth....
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