Spanklet (n.) - definition - a very short story where an individual is spanked or caned.
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The blonde woman in the witch's dress was looking at me intently. The Halloween party organised by a neighbour was going well, although I felt a bit foolish in my red cloak and horns. I had heard that she was divorced now, after her husband had gone off with a nurse from the hospital where he worked. In her mid- forties she was deeply attractive and obviously kept herself in shape. I smiled and wandered over towards her and she smiled back as I approached.
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The blonde woman in the witch's dress was looking at me intently. The Halloween party organised by a neighbour was going well, although I felt a bit foolish in my red cloak and horns. I had heard that she was divorced now, after her husband had gone off with a nurse from the hospital where he worked. In her mid- forties she was deeply attractive and obviously kept herself in shape. I smiled and wandered over towards her and she smiled back as I approached.
“Hello you old devil.”
“Hello you. You have to be the most attractive witch in the coven.”
“Ah flattery, such a mischievous manner you have Satan. Tell me are you still into spanking?”
I grimaced at the memory. At a New Years Eve party I gave, for friends and neighbours, I had to allow ladies to use the upstairs toilet whilst the men went downstairs. This woman had proved to be no lady, because once upstairs she had chosen to snoop amongst his bachelor bedrooms.
Amongst the books in his spare room study she had found his special interest magazines, under a pile of National Geographics.
When the New Year had been seen in and the guests were leaving she had kissed him goodbye on the cheek and whispered how much she enjoyed looking around his study and reading material.
“Such a naughty boy,” she had said as she passed one hand behind him and patted his bottom. He had blushed and said goodbye to her and her then husband.
“So I think Witches trump the Devil tonight, don’t you?”
In an instant I was back at the Halloween party.
“Dressed like you Lucy, I think you trump everyone here tonight.” I responded with a gallant bow from the waist.
“In that case, you can invite me round to your place for a coffee at midnight and we’ll see if I can make your bottom as red as your cape shall we?”
I had no option it seemed. My fantasies had caught up with me.
“Yes ma’am, the Devil is at your service.”
What a lovely little scenario.
ReplyDeleteHi again Otto. Thanks for the pleasant comment.
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