The first Twenty-One - Sex Stories

The first Twenty-One

... brilliant niece, who was asking him to administer punishment. "One spilled cup, on the floor but not on the rug. That's eight with the belt, twelve with the cane, eighteen with the hand, bare and standing, or twenty-one with the hand, over the knee with panties on. Which one do you think will best teach me my lesson, Johnathan, Sir?" "This is insane. I can't punish you!" "Please. I can't move before I'm corrected." "Stop it, this is ridiculous, you don't have to be corrected." "But I must be punished. Please let me assume the position." "The position, what the devil are you talking about?" "Sit down, Johnathan, Sir, I'll show you." Utterly perplexed, Johnathan dropped back onto the sofa, doing what Dora was telling him to. Dora was standing right in front of him, and he was looking right at her breasts, which were quite the specimens indeed. Full, round, firm looking, with creamy white skin, but he shouldn't think of that, he corrected himself, this was Alex's niece. Before he could shake off the thought of those breasts, Dora had dropped her skirt to her knees, and bent over, placing herself over his knee. He could feel her breasts dangling and her bottom, clad in white cotton panties, was perked up. "This is the position for twenty-one over the knee, Johnathan, Sir. Do you know how to administer it? First, just raise your hand. Yes, just like that. And now bring it down. I must count them out." The white flesh of her perked up bottom looked amazingly attractive. ...

... Confused with the situation he found himself in, he gave in to the temptation to touch it. "One," Dora said out loud. "But that wasn't right. It must be a spanking." Johnathan raised his hand, and let it down on her other cheek with a little slap. "Two, but that barely counted either. It must be harder." "Three," she counted out. "It must be punishment, Sir. You must make it hurt." "Four, but it only hurt a little. I must be corrected. I must by punished. Make me hurt harder." "Five." For the first time, his hand left something of a pale red mark. "Six. Punish me Jonathan, Sir." A mark on her other butt cheek. "Seven." Was that...? It was as unmistakable as it was unbelievable to him — that dark spot in her panties — it was her moisture flowing; she was getting aroused. Johnathan hesitated, his hand mid-air, but then, as if guided by something stronger, something feral inside him, he swung it down on her left buttock, for the first time not really holding back, his hand leaving behind its form in a rose colored flare on Dora’s behind. A soft whimper escaped Dora’s lips. "Eight." The feral beast inside him was taking over. He was allowing it to take over. "Nine." and a small sob "Ten. I must be corrected, Sir." "Eleven." The air filled with the smells of her wetness, and as she was getting wetter, he could feel himself getting harder. With every beat of his heart, a glimmer of reason escaped him, and a burst of arousal swelled up. "T-twelve," she breathed softly. The flares were ...