Backfire

The below is a story written by one of my pen pals after reading my latest post, Good Boy Spanking. It's about a man caught masturbating to my blog! Oh Dear!

Backfire

Sometimes things have a way of backfiring completely. It was a case of extreme domestic discipline irony.

Brett sat down at his computer fully intending to get to the work needed doing. Instead he opened his web browser and carefully typed in the familiar search. He could have used a bookmark if he had ever had the nerve to save one, but a search for strict julie supplied the link he needed.

For a moment breath caught in his throat. He felt a stirring between his legs and was aware of his behind where it rested on the chair. He made a nervous tick of a look around but his wife had gone to the mall that afternoon. He was alone, and Tanya would surely not be home soon. In any case, he would hear the garage door and have plenty enough time to make it appear as if he had been working innocently.

In Brett's head there was actually little going on in the way of careful planning. He knew the situation was all. His focus was on his computer screen, where Strict Julie's blog was causing his stirrings. He read the three words over again, Good Boy Spanking. "What is this?" he asked himself. He was more than intrigued.

Brett knew well about spanking. The clear association for him was strictly at odds with what he was seeing. Spankings are for misbehavior. It is when you get in trouble that you get a spanking. Trouble is something to be avoided; case in point, his careful web browsing. He had learned the sorry fact a long time ago, and nothing in that regard had changed since his marriage to Tanya. Miss Julie Strict was also a strong proponent of spanking discipline. So he needed an answer. What is good boy spanking? More important, what did strict Miss Julie have to say about it?

He continued to read. Julie Strict took david up to the bedroom where she made him strip. Completely naked. Her description made Brett shift weight where he was sitting. There was nothing here he couldn't relate to. If david was getting a spanking, then getting it naked was understandable. Brett knew. When he'd been a bad boy, he'd forfeited all rights to modesty. But this that he was reading became an entirely different situation when Miss Julie also removed her clothing. To administer the punishment? Miss Julie naked. It was too much. Brett was no longer merely stirring. He was stiffening. His hand was down the front of his jeans trying to make room for what had become uncomfortably larger.

Miss Julie Strict then sat on the bed. Brett could picture her sitting prim and proper in all her naked glory, buttery legs, knees together forming a breathtaking platform for a boy's breathless surrender. Nothing threatening here. No pleas and promises to be good. No feminine voice scolding, menace laced with honey. This was new to Brett, but his heart pounded just the same. In place of the hairbrush, paddle, or other dreaded implement, in Miss Julie's hands was baby oil. She was rubbing it on david where Brett was now feeling a delicious agony, and Brett was no longer thinking too clearly, wanting to be where david was rather than in his office in front of his computer, where he had stripped just as naughtily naked.

Brett's eyes were glued to the screen. Miss Julie was in total control. With her slippery expert hands she made her man hard, quivering hard as he stood submissively at her side, but she did not allow him release, bringing him close again and again to a point of desperation. She had other plans for david, and david could have nothing but what his wife allowed him. Brett was in a similar state, stroking but not allowing himself to get too carried away. His desperation was to finish what he was reading.

It got better. Much, much better. With david still aching for release, his wife rubbed baby oil onto her own bare thighs, as if they were not already the most delectable surface. Did david moan in anticipation? Brett would have, and then he did when he read Miss Julie's own words, "face down over my lap in a traditional OTK spanking position". Brett was aroused and confused. Spankings, by tradition, are for discipline. Julie Strict felt a hard cock on her oiled lap, and all david was was a very lucky boy. To lay naked across those thighs, and with one hand back to feel his disciplinarian's regal behind, the other holding onto her slender ankle? If this was punishment, then Brett wanted to be bad.

A little bedside paddle. That was what Strict Julie held in her pretty hand, and this was simply too much for Brett to bear. Could this siren be any more wickedly seductive? She could have used that hand to spank. Wouldn't this be more appropriate for a good boy? The feminine hand used for a nice friendly slap and fondle? No, not Miss Julie Strict. Good boy or bad, a spanking is a spanking. Brett could almost feel the little bedside paddle as hard as his cock in his hand. He was reading about a spanking he had only imagined on some level beyond his conscious grasp, a spanking administered by a woman adept at driving the line between punishment and reward, a woman wielding all her power, the hot sting above, the silk below. It was an increasingly strict paddling compelling more writhing over that lap causing more arousing friction.

According to Miss Julie, david was undergoing a good old fashioned cheek reddening, and as she felt him getting closer and closer to orgasm, she spanked harder and harder. At his computer, Brett stroked harder and harder, Miss Julie's written word inspiring him to a frenzy. David was holding out remarkably well as his cock was allowed to slip between and to be trapped by smooth warm thighs. Brett knew that over Miss Julie's bare skin, he would not last long enough to require such charity. By then he'd have spent his entire allowance, and it was on that thought that Brett exploded into the wad of tissues he was holding.

He came down quickly. Brett went straight to the bathroom to clean up, stood dripping in the shower. Lust no longer advising him, he could hear the whispers of guilt, saw his reflection in the mirror, still naked and newly shamed. He dried himself and headed back to the scene of his crime. Sitting in his chair, in front of his computer, Tanya was looking intently at Strict Julie's blog, at the article he had just been reading. His wife had tired quickly of the mall that day and had returned home much earlier than expected. The garage door had surely provided the expected warning while a very bad boy was under water. And so the irony. He was walked naked to the bedroom where the hairbrush was taken from her drawer. His wife did not get naked, and Brett did not get a good boy spanking.