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The Lesson - a short, erotic story

March 2, 2016

 

 

“What is your biggest fear?” she said.

He paused for a moment and gave it some thought.  “That I will drop dead after a lifetime of graft, and never know what it was all for.”

“That’s a bit heavy, isn’t it?  I thought you were going to say something like, you were afraid of heights, or of going bald – that type of thing.”

 

They were lying side by side on the bed, both naked, and he wondered if this was the most surreal conversation he had ever had with a sex worker.

“Well, there are a lot of little fears too, but you asked for my biggest one.  I’m afraid of departing this life and never having made a mark.  I bet that even my own children will have forgotten me six months after I am gone.”

 

She half rolled over and lay on her side, looking at him quizzically.

“Surely not.  There must be a lot of people that look up to you.  You’ve got a good job.  I bet your boss values you.”

“I doubt it.  He still calls me John, even though I told him twice my name was James.  I am just a faceless zombie to him.  By the way, am I paying for this conversation?  I mean, is our time up yet?”

“Nah, don’t worry.  I’m not expecting anyone else tonight.  You’re on free time now.”

 

Rose was his regular Tuesday night treat to himself.  It was a long time since he and his wife had shared a bed, and at fifty five his sex drive wasn’t what it once was, but he couldn’t manage without it all together, so he had been coming to see her for two years now.  She had been recommended by a friend as being a bit classier than some of the women he had been with over the past few years, and, as well as the sex, he liked talking to her.  She was intelligent and made him laugh sometimes too.  He turned the conversation back on her.

“How about you, Rose?  What’s your biggest fear?”

“Well in this sort of work, it would have to be that I would be found dead in my room after a psychotic John turned on me.  But apart from that, I’m not too scared about anything much.”

 

He wondered what his kids would say if they knew he regularly visited a sex worker.  Would they be disgusted?  He already knew what his wife would say.  She would be revolted, just as she seemed to be revolted these days by the sex act itself.  In fact, to be honest, she had never been very keen on getting hot and sweaty with him, even when they were first married.  Whatever his possible future problems, however, at least he didn’t have to worry about being beaten or killed by some maniac who took it upon himself to rid the world of those women practising the oldest profession.  He had never even considered that option before, which made him a little uncomfortable.

 

“Have you had any problems with violent clients before?  Perhaps you should have a minder?”

“A pimp?  Making money off my labour?  No thank you.  In my experience, many of the girls have as much trouble with their pimps smacking them around as they do from the Johns.  And, to answer your first question, yes I have been beaten by three men in the past, but thankfully I was able to get away before anything worse happened.”

“What, here?  In this room?”

“No, this was at the beginning, when I was working the street.  You get in some guy’s car and you’re not sure if you are going to get out again.”

 

James mulled the matter over for a minute.  He wondered who these men were, who seemed to hate the very women they also needed.  Rose rushed to emphasize that she wasn’t talking about the men who came to her for the specialist stuff their wives wouldn’t provide, the ones who enjoyed tying her up and spanking her behind – no, they were usually quite sweet to her afterwards.  It was the men who had deep anger issues with women; they were the ones she had to be careful of.

“But how do you tell the difference between them?”

“Its something you become experienced at over time.  I can usually tell by their eyes, and their attitude to me when you first meet them.  The ones you need to be wary of often have a contemptuous look on their face.  They want to cane you and fuck you every which way, but at the same time, they seem to despise you for giving them their base desires.”

“I guess you become a bit of an amateur psychologist in this job.  Do some men just want to talk, or do you not encourage that?”

“No, I don’t mind what they do, as long as they pay me.  But there are only a couple of guys that I would talk to like this.  I see you as a friend now more than a John.”

 

James thought he ought to be flattered, but, at the same time, what did it say about him and his life that a sex worker he saw once a week was a better friend than the woman he had been married to for thirty years?  It wasn’t even as though she was particularly beautiful; more average looking and not in the first flush of youth either; he guessed about thirty-six or seven.  But she treated him with respect and never belittled him, and he always left here feeling better about himself than when he arrived.

 

Rose rolled over on to her stomach and lifted her face to him, smiling.

“So, James, have you never had a secret wish to smack this arse of mine?”

The thought that flashed through his mind was sufficiently provocative to make his formerly soft cock twitch into life again.  He casually put his arm over it, to hide it from view, before answering, which, on reflection, seemed a bit bizarre considering where he was and what they had been doing.

“Of course I have.  I think that most men fantasize about stuff like that.  I’ve just never…”

“You’ve never dared ask for it?  Is that it?”

“Yes, I suppose so.  It probably comes from when I was a kid.  My mother was very religious, and probably very repressed.  I could never imagine her lying naked on a bed with my father, in the way that we are, for example.  She kept drumming all sorts of things into my head about respecting women and treating them right.  I always got the feeling that she was trying to tell me that God-fearing, respectable women submitted to sex with their husbands when necessary, but to enjoy it put you on the path to the fires of Hell and Damnation.  I reckon my wife had a similar sort of upbringing too.  She reminds me of my mother in a way.”

“So how about we try it?”

He looked a little startled and embarrassed.  “What now?”

“Yes, why not?  No extra charge.  Consider it my public service duty for the day.  I can see from that twitching cock that the idea appeals to you.”

He coloured up even more.  So she had seen his hard-on.

“What do you want me to do?”

“Whatever you feel like doing.  How about you become stern with me and order me to come over your knee for a spanking?  That will be a good start.  Then give me a good hiding with the palm of your hand.”

“But won’t it hurt you?”

“A bit, sure, but I find it a big turn-on.  I think you will too.  Let’s just give it a try.”

She got off the bed and stepped back a few feet, holding her hands together and hanging her head, just like a naughty child.

 

She prompted him to lead the way.  “I’m sorry for being a bad girl, Sir.  Perhaps you should punish me?”

James removed his hand from his cock and it shot straight up to attention.  Better act a bit stern, he thought.  He hadn’t even been stern with his own kids, so he had to dig deep for the right mood.

“Yes, Rose, I think I should.  Come here and lie over my knees for a spanking.”  He was surprised at the ease with which he was able to slip into the character.  Rose shuffled towards him and he sat up with his back to the bedhead to receive her.  Once he was settled, she lay down over his legs, her lovely bottom over his thighs.  He wanted to massage and squeeze her magnificent arse, but he wasn’t sure he wanted to smack her, and Rose sensed his reluctance.

“Don’t worry about hurting me, James.  I’ve had worse, believe me.  Just spank me hard on the bum.”  And to demonstrate where it was, as if he could forget, she gave it a wiggle.  The sight of that alone was almost enough to be his undoing, and he had to concentrate hard for a moment to avoid coming before he had even got started.  He lifted his arm and brought his palm down hard on the buttock nearest to him, which made contact with a crack so loud, he was worried about her reaction, but she was not going to let him off the hook.

“Ow, Sir.  I’m sorry for being naughty.  Perhaps I deserve twenty strokes like that?”

 

He took his lead from her and continued to bring his hand down hard on her increasingly red-looking bottom.  With the crack from each stroke and the wobbling of her flesh each time his hand made contact, he could feel the frisson of excitement in his groin growing.  He couldn’t believe how horny it made him feel to be spanking a woman like this.  God, he hoped she would let him fuck her afterwards.

The twentieth stroke landed hard on Rose’s right buttock, and both of them were panting.  What do I do now, he thought.  But Rose was ahead of him.

“Thank you for punishing me, Sir.  I expect you will want to fuck me hard now to finish the punishment.”

 

She climbed off his lap and went on to hands and knees, before dropping her head to the bedcover.  James was presented with a luscious, round bottom, glowing red from his handprints, and a pussy that was already dripping from her excitement.  He didn’t need telling twice, and scrambled up behind her, his cock now rigid, and pausing for just a moment to put on a condom, he plunged into her…hard.  He was now fully into the performance she had started.

“This is what happens to naughty little girls, isn’t it Rose?  They get spanked and fucked hard, don’t they?” 

 

He didn’t recognize himself, either his voice or his manner, and continued to ram himself into her as hard as he could until he felt the familiar rush as he came so explosively he was sure he must have expelled the condom inside her.  He groaned as the effect of his climax ran throughout his body, making him think for that one moment that he could conquer the world.

They were both panting as though they had run a marathon, and James was reluctant to break the spell by pulling out of her.  In the end it was Rose who made the move by pulling away and turning to face him.

“Well that was a pretty damn good fuck, James.  See how much better it is when you get all fired up like that?”

“Was it…?  I mean, I didn’t hurt you did I?”

He had an anxious look on his face, and she put him out of his misery immediately.

“It was pretty, fucking fantastic, James. And no, you didn’t hurt me, so stop worrying about it.  It is a great turn-on for me to be spanked like that, and we both know what it did for you, don’t we?”  Now that we have released the rampant male in you I don’t think we will be going back to the old missionary position, do you?” 

 

She looked down at his still semi-erect cock.  Now, sorry to bring you back to earth, but I think it is time you were going.  Your wife will be worrying about you and I want to take a nice long bubble bath to sooth this spanked bum and get some sleep.”

James was brought back to reality and she saw the expression on his face revert to the slightly hangdog one she had seen before, whenever his wife was mentioned.

“Consider this lesson number one, James.  I am more than willing to give you a few more lessons in kinky sex the next time we meet.  I reckon there is a latent Dominant hiding in that meek body of yours, and I’m going to help you find it.  And then perhaps you will be able to persuade that prim and proper wife of yours to uncross her legs for you.”

 

On the forty minutes drive home James relived the events of the evening.  He felt different somehow, more assertive, more masculine.  His cock twitched as he recalled how he felt to have Rose’s arse reddened with his handprints, and how much he enjoyed the climax that came afterwards.

As he opened the front door, his wife Gwendolyn was tidying the kitchen, and she barely raised her eyes as he came into view. 

“You’re a bit late tonight.  Did the game go over time?”  She was referring to the bridge match that was his excuse for being absent every Tuesday evening.

“Yes, we went into extra time, but it was worth it.”  He paused for a moment, then continued, in a deeper and more assertive voice than he normally used with his wife.

“Gwendolyn, come here please.”

She looked up this time at the unexpected firmness in his voice, but obeyed and walked towards him.  “What is it, James?”  He looked sternly into her eyes.

“You and I have some things to discuss, and it will take place upstairs, in the bedroom.”

Gwendolyn looked a little startled, but acquiesced.  As she walked ahead of him up the stairs, he looked at her arse, pushing against the straight skirt she was wearing, and he wondered what it would look like with his red handprints all over it.  

 

I hope you have enjoyed this short story.  Why not leave a brief comment below, and take the time to look at my book page.

 

Picture: Shutterstock

 

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