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As soon as she touched the strange little object Shelly knew. Turning the intricately crafted artefact in her fingers a thought came unbidden into her mind. ‘I wonder what it would be like to be spanked with this?’
What! Where did that thought spring from? Shelly’s imagination races, a surge of erotic excitement courses through her lower body – quite the strangest sensation — a heady mix of arousal and trepidation. Where might this historic curiosity, simply labelled ‘quirt’, have originated she wonders? Shelly’s certainly never seen it before.
Turning to the co-worker standing next to her Shelly tries, not wholly successfully, to make her question appear casual:
“Can you tell me anything about this?”
Bret pauses before replying, already aware the whip is well suited to human correction; this understanding accompanied by the certainty he’ll be the one to wield it.
“It’s a quirt,” he says casually. “A short braided leather whip, Cowboys used them to move on cattle. Maybe from Texas; I wouldn’t be surprised if they were used on servants, although since I’m from New England I’ll plead not guilty on behalf of my ancestors.”
A silence permeates the basement storeroom, far from the public exhibition galleries. Shelly is a curator at the museum; Bret here on secondment as part of a national scheme to get objects lost in dusty drawers for decades out and on display. Meanwhile Shelly has been trying all week to get closer to this confident and good-looking young man.
“You’ve been attempting to catch my attention for days,” Bret says out of the blue, spookily as if he’s been reading her mind.
“I, um…” Uncharacteristically Shelly is lost for words.
“Kind of obvious,” Bret continues in an amused tone, no hint of criticism, simply a statement of fact.
Really, thinks Shelly, was her motivation so transparent?
“Finding excuses to be in my company, dressed to the nines to turn my head. Not that I’m complaining,” Bret casts an appreciative eye over her shapely form, “rather flattered as it goes; I bet you even engineered this little encounter?”
“Yes,” she admits, unable to avoid blushing, “but I swear I had no idea what was in this particular drawer”.
“You kırklareli escort could have just asked me out on a date,” he continues calmly.
“I was afraid you’d say no,” she replies, voice dropping to a whisper.
“That was never going to be likely,” Bret smiles winningly and her heart sores.
“Why thank you for the compliment kind sir,” Shelly flicks back her shoulder length blonde hair and performs a mock curtsy.
“You want to know what this quirt feels like don’t you,” he continues, again correctly interpreting her train of thought.
“I, I think so,” faced with the opportunity to make her fantasy a reality Shelly becomes hesitant.
“Good to hear, it’s not often I meet someone who shares my interests”.
Interests, does he mean professional, or sexual? No time to go into that now, it appears Shelly has passed some sort of compatibility test.
“I guess so…” Shelly is feeling increasingly outmanoeuvred.
“So bend forward across the table, grasp the far edge and I’ll give you a little sample taste.”
“OK,” says a small, acquiescent voice, can it really be hers?
She stretches forward, boobs pressed into the wooden surface, feeling simultaneously vulnerable and excited.
“Sure you want this? It’s sure to hurt some.”
Shelly grits her teeth. “Do it,” she says, and then remembering her manners adds, “please.”
She hears Bret step back then, doubling the whip’s tails, he delivers a pair of strokes in quick succession, square across the centre of her pleasingly prominent posterior. Shelly’s dimly aware of the quirt striking home yet for a second or two feels nothing. Strange, she thinks, is that all? Shouldn’t it…
“Christ!” Two stinging lines suddenly burn across her buttocks. “Wow!” Shelly releases a breath she wasn’t even aware of holding and frantically wriggles her bum.
“Felt that didn’t you?” Bret observes, obviously amused. “Lets try a couple more licks, this time with a little less protection.”
“Not too hard please,” remaining obediently prone Shelly proffers a tentative assent.
“You can trust me,” asserts Bret.
Well, he would say afyon escort that, reflects Shelly, although to be honest the erotic power of the situation already has her hooked; adrenalin flowing, heart racing, each established in their respective dominant and submissive roles.
“Raise your skirt,” Bret demands turning to lock the door, beyond mere flirting the situation is getting serious. Tantalisingly slowly she lifts her skirt,’ just as well I wore my best knickers’, Shelly reflects inconsequentially.
“Magnificent,” breathes Bret, letting the compliment hang in the air for a moment, then, “hold on tight, incoming.”
Twin strokes are again skilfully delivered in quick succession, scalding wheals painfully bisect Shelly’s poor bottom.
“Oooooh,” moans Shelly, earlier resolutions to be stoic abandoned she jiggles her delicious tush and stamps high-heeled feet.
“How was that?” Bret enquires solicitously — like he can’t guess.
“That felt, hang on, give me moment,” with considerable effort Shelly composes herself, reaching gingerly behind to explore the livid, throbbing tram lines, “very sore, but on the other hand it…”
“Turns you on…” Bret completes the sentence.
“Yes,” she admits frankly, “unfashionable to admit but there’s a delicious feeling of helplessness in letting an authoritative man take charge.”
“Ready for the final two?”
“I think so.”
“They’ll be on the bare.”
“I can’t!”
“Of course you can, if I didn’t know better I say this wasn’t your first time.”
“Darn well is!” Shelly protests indignantly. “OK, boyfriends have spanked me before — not at all satisfactorily – but nothing like this.”
“Let me help you,” Bret pulls her skimpy panties down to the top of her hold-up stockings, enjoying the moment and in no hurry to conclude matters. “I’ve also discovered a collection of switches from a local school in another cupboard,” he adds enigmatically.
“Oh really, and I suppose you think I’ll let you use those on me too?”
“I rather believe you might,” Bret’s hand strays momentarily to the damp apex of her thighs to emphasise his point, “you do seem to amasya escort find chastisement arousing.”
Excited and exposed Shelly is nevertheless anxious to proceed. ‘Better get on with it before someone wonders where we’ve got to,” she pleads.
“Good point,” Bret agrees, “ be warned, these next two are going to be a little lower…”
Across the super sensitive sit-spot in fact and even though he wields the whips mercifully each impact is greeted by a shriek of outraged pain.
“Steady,” Bret cautions, as Shelly gyrates uninhibitedly, struggling to regain her dignity.
“Up you come,” he helps her shakily upright, “take a moment to give those sore cheeks a rub.”
She carefully massages her tenderised globes, all the while looking imploringly at her tormentor. “I could do with some help here,” Shelly murmurs, casting a meaningful look downwards.
“Of course; lean back against the wall — take the weight on those shoulders, your bottom’s far too tender. Now, let’s have these off,” he tugs Shelly’s silky panties to her ankles and she daintily steps out of them.
“Open your legs,” Bret lightly pushes her knees apart. “Beautiful, goodness you’re a very wet girl.” Sliding a finger down her sopping slit he crouches and slowly circles his tongue adeptly around her throbbing clitoris, eliciting moans of uninhibited desire as Shelly eagerly spreads her thighs even wider. He continues licking, sending waves of pleasure deep within her cunt, tongue teasing her labia, lapping at her wetness. Shelly gasps and groans, incipient orgasm simmering. As a coup de grace Bret wets a finger and softly rims her tightly clenched rosebud — a pleasure to be indulged at a later date – stimulating Shelly to a body-shaking climax.
“That was… wonderful,” she says dreamily, overwhelmed by the intensity of sensation. Bret holds the young woman close until her breathing quietens and her knees regain their strength.
“Right, hair and make up,” he says briskly, handing Shelly her purse. “Time to face the world. Oh, and you may be pleased to know since there’s so much to do here I’ve extended my stay by a week.”
Positively glowing Shelly walks though the museum galleries, observed by some discerning visitors who know a satisfied woman when they see one.
Who knew the museum’s collection could be so fascinating? Well Brett for start. Certain of where the quirt came from because he bought it in a Tucson antique shop during a road trip last year, along with some old school switches. When working with history it pays to plan ahead.
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