Fork

“That’s a weird technique,” I said. “Do all Americans do it like that?”

Dean frowned at me across the table. “What do you mean?”

“That weird fork thing you do. You have your fork in your left hand while cutting your food, then you switch it over to your right hand to eat. It looks really odd.”

“What do you Brits do?”

“Keep the fork in our left hands, of course. Like civilised people.”

“Civilised people, huh?” Dean smiled.

“Absolutely. Want me to give you a lesson in proper British table etiquette?”

“That depends. Want me to give you a lesson in proper American over-the-knee spanking techniques?”

I dropped my fork in shock and it clattered noisily onto my plate. Had he really just said that? On our fourth date? Colour rushed to my cheeks. 

“You know what, sweetie? I actually think you do.” said Dean.

“I.. I..” I begun, my grasp of words having deserted me. “Um, yes,”

“ I’d hate to disappoint a lady,” said Dean, pushing his chair away from the table. He patted his lap. “Over you go, princess.”

Shaking, I stood up and placed myself over Dean’s lap. He was a big guy. Six foot five of broad shouldered muscle, the thought of submitting to him was exhilarating. We were still getting to know one another, having only met a handful of times before. We hadn’t even had sex together yet. What on earth had given him the clue that spanking was my all time sexual fantasy? Maybe it had been a lucky guess.

He pushed my skirt up to my waist, drew back his hand and delivered a hard, stinging swat to the seat of my knickers. I yelped.

“If you tell me to stop, I’ll stop.” said Dean.

“I don’t want you to stop” I mumbled, staring down at the carpet.

“That’s what I like to hear,” said Dean pulling my panties to my thighs and raining a series of hard spanks onto my naked bottom. It hurt like hell; it was amazing. I was so wet I was practically dripping. He spanked me until my backside was sore and throbbing and burning hot. I squirmed on his lap, rubbing my crotch against his trouser leg. 

“You needed that, didn’t you?” he said, slipping his finger inside me and rubbing my clit. I moaned. The spanking had brought me so close to orgasm; I’d only need the slightest touch to push me over the edge.

“Shall we take this into the bedroom?” whispered Dean

“God, yes.”

“Unless you’d prefer to teach me some finer points of British etiquette instead?”

I looked over my shoulder at him from my position across his knees. “Well, there’s your appalling pronunciation of the word aluminium,” I said. “That could do with some correcting.”

Dean chuckled, spanking me four more times, hard on my already tender backside. “The only person round here who needs correcting is you. And you know it. Come on, sassy, let’s get you naked.”