A Weekend Fantasy

There is a certain long time friend in my life who knows me better than anyone, and knows how to push my libido buttons. When he called to chat with me today, we talked about general things like the weather, health, and similar boring topics. We both knew what we wanted to talk about, so we quickly moved in that direction.

He has always been my “Grandpa” and I play the role of his little “gg.” He reminds me how naughty I have been, spelling out each of my bad behaviors since we last spoke. My big toe twitches in the carpet as he lectures, I twist the hem of my skirt, knowing what is about to come. I can hardly sit still as his voice grows more stern with each sentence.

As each misconduct is relayed to me in detail, he knows what it is doing to me. He knows what I need from him and he knows how my head will begin to spin out of control soon. He loves knowing all of that, so he continues.

With each item on his list, I am to respond, “Yes, Grandpa, that is what I did, and I am sorry.”

“Will you do it again, gg?” he asks.

“No, Grandpa, I promise not to do it again.”

And he continues on down his list. It seems like the list will never end, and I’m surprised that he knew all the things I’d done, no matter how much I tried to hide it.

My doorbell rings, but it’s not the right time for my phone conversation to be interrupted. I carefully peek out the curtains, and there stands my “Grandpa,” talking to me on his cell phone. I forget to breathe as I muster up my courage and open the door to him.

He doesn’t smile, doesn’t take me in his arms like he usually does, and he doesn’t even turn off his cell. He motions me back to the phone and continues our conversation. So now I’m talking to him on the phone while he sits comfortably on my couch, watching me intently.

“Yes, gg, I can now see what you are doing and I will know for a fact that you are not just saying these things to me, thinking I cannot see you.”

I don’t know what to say to him. I just keep staring at the phone in my hand, wondering how this will play out.

“I want you to go change clothes, gg,” he tells me. “Put on your little school girl outfit.”

He waits as I do as I am told.

“Now go back to your desk with your phone while I continue the list of your offenses.”

“Yes, Grandpa.”

Oh, this is so hard! I wish this conversation was taking place only on the phone, but he’ll have none of that. On the phone, he wouldn’t know if I had dressed like a school girl or not. He wouldn’t know if I actually took off my panties for a spanking or not. He wouldn’t know if I was really crying or not when he spanked me. This was too real!

I pretend not to know he is watching me. It becomes easier. I try not to wiggle in my chair as he talks, but I can’t help it.

“Why are you wiggling, gg?” he asks.

“Because I…” There is no way I can explain to him that I am turned on beyond belief, that the anticipation of a real spanking is too great, that his voice is so erotic and I am more aroused than I’ve been in ages.

“Yes, gg?”

I start to cry. I want to finger myself, but I dare not. I squirm.

“Hang up the phone, gg, and come stand before me,” he says as he clicks off his cell.

I’m not sure if I’m relieved or if I am more frightened.

“Lift up your skirt, gg.”

I slowly pull up the front of my skirt.

“Push down your panties, gg.”

Tears are streaming down my face as I push down my panties.

“Spread your legs, gg.”

And as I do as he commanded, he pushes a dry finger inside my shaved pussy.

“Is that why you were wiggling, gg? Is that what you wanted?”

“Yes, Grandpa,” I say through my tears.

He removes his finger, jerks my arm toward him and pulls me over his lap, pushing my panties down to my ankles. Now begins the real spanking – it is no longer a phone fantasy with him. Hard and harder, fast and faster. I’m kicking my feet, but he holds me tightly onto his lap.

Suddenly, he stops, stands me up and forces me to waddle over to the corner. He tucks my skirt into my waistband and pushes my nose to the wall, and walks away.

I have no idea how long I am there, my bottom stinging, my tears finally drying on my cheeks, the cool air blowing across my bum and legs. I grow drowsy.

At last, his hand wraps around my wrist and he guides me to one of the dining room chairs. He pushes me into a kneeling position on the seat and bends me over the back of the chair. He rubs the leather paddle across my sore bum before starting in with some good smacks, softly explaining how naughty I was to let him put his finger inside my pussy.

“That isn’t something little girls should do, gg,” he says. “You know better than that.”

I can only try to nod my head.

“Would you let just any man come in this house and do that?”

“N…n….no,” I tried to say.

I hear his zipper going down, feel him enter me from the rear. The heat of my bottom and the hardness of him inside of me takes me over the edge as we both erupt.

And so the weekend continues in this vein. Over the next few days I experienced his belt (for acting like a common slut), a switch (for letting a “strange” man into the house), pieces of ginger strategically placed (to make me think twice about being bad), and so much more.

By the time Monday morning came, he seemed temporarily satisfied that I had received adequate punishment and he promised to keep a better eye on my behavior from now on.

As he left to return to his home, he hugged me and said, “I love you, gg, and I love being your disciplinarian. We’ll always be best of friends.”

I hated to see him leave, but I knew he would call me as soon as he got home with some new strategy for correcting my behavior.

PW – Bare bottom spanking is a show of love.