One Hot Minute

I walked past the entrance twice before I worked up the courage to go through the gate. A normal terrace house on a leafy inner city residential street with a door discreetly screened by trees just getting their spring growth. I pressed the buzzer, there was a ten-second pause, and just when I was about to turn around and bolt, it crackled into life."Come in."The door buzzed. I entered to see an attractive redhead, mid-twenties with a passing resemblance to Molly Ringwald, about my age, behind a mahogany desk."Good morning. I'm Molly."She caught my expression."Yes, I know. Sixteen Candles and all that.""Good-" I croaked and cleared my throat, "Good morning, Molly," I repeated in a clearer voice, face reddening. I didn't introduce myself."Here for the Hot Minute?""Yes.""It's fifty dollars, you will receive one minute's spanking with a wooden paddle on your bare bottom over the lap, no hand relief, no masturbation when you're in the room. Simply follow all the instructions and it will all be fine." She grinned, becoming less businesslike. "Apart from your bottom, of course. It's quite intense, I'm told."She had an infectious smile and I grinned back, despite the circumstances.I handed over a fifty-dollar note fresh from the ATM down the road. I noticed my fingers were trembling. Felicity noticed too and grinned sympathetically at me."You're a bit younger than the usual crowd," she said."I just want to know how it... feels..." I said, handing over the cash."It's okay, no need to explain. Sorry, that was unprofessional, you just looked so nervous I thought you were going to run.""Thanks, I was," I said, and meant it. She really was cute. "So if I hate it, it's your fault.""Well, at least you'll know," she said.There was an awkward silence."Er, do I...?"I mimed unzipping my jeans."Haha no! Keep your pants on, I'm just the receptionist! Wear this."She handed me a thin cotton red balaclava. I put it on over my equally red face."Up the stairs and take a seat in the waiting room There are three up there at the moment. Take this number, and when it's called, simply go in and Ms Reid will tell you what to do. If you do chicken out, you may simply leave of course, but there are no refunds.""Thanks," I croaked again."Have fun!" She said. "It's okay to enjoy it! You can even show me the damage on the way out if you like.""I... er...thanks, uh... see you soon."She giggled. I wasn't sure if we'd been flirting kocaeli escort or not, but in my defence, it's difficult to keep a clear head when you're about to have your pants pulled down and your bare bottom spanked. I'm a reasonably attractive man and pretty good with the flirt under normal conditions, but I'd harboured a secret fascination with the idea of being spanked since I was a teen, and I was finally following through on it. I'd watched videos online and read countless stories and even given myself a good whacking with a table tennis bat, but I'd never been able to bring myself to confess it to a girlfriend. It simply didn't fit with the image I wanted to project, or perhaps I was just a coward.This morning, I'd watched a few videos of men getting thrashed and googled "am I mad to want a spanking" and up came "THE HOT MINUTE: Need a spanking? Here's your chance. Sunday special: $50 for one minute of hard paddling on your bare bottom from Ms Reid. Leave your embarrassment at the door. Sore bottom guaranteed. Don't die wondering." My pulse raced when it listed an address only one suburb away. I knew I was finally going to find out.I walked up the narrow stairs, clutching my ticket saying number 9. On the landing at the top, three balaclava-clad men sat nervously on wooden chairs, staring at a wooden door. They didn't acknowledge my arrival and I avoided eye contact and quietly took a seat.From the room began a rhythmic smacking, exactly the sound you would expect a wooden paddle to make repeatedly striking a naked backside very hard. They came at the rate of about twice per second and I found myself unconsciously counting. After ten strikes the tempo doubled and each whack was followed by a grunt. The grunts became louder as the tempo and the intensity increased and became a frantic wailing at the finish. I'd counted 240 strikes.We all shifted uncomfortably in our chairs as the whacking ceased and the cries of the recipient calmed down, no doubt contemplating the imminent fates of our own backsides. I promised myself I'd keep silent through the whole ordeal.A minute or so later the door opened and a man wearing a balaclava exited, carefully closed the door, walked stiffly past us staring straight ahead, then gingerly walked down the stairs.We sat in silence. A bell chimed and a little red sign above the door just like at delicatessens showed the number 7.Number seven stood, and kocaeli escort bayan walked towards the door like a man going to his own execution, squared his shoulders and strode through the door to his doom. The door closed with an ominous thunk.Victim number ten appeared at the top of the stairs, glanced around nervously, and then sat, staring at the door with the rest of us.About a minute later the whacking began. Number seven was less reticent than number six and straight away greeted each whack with OHs then AHHs then OWs and a few OH GODs and PLEASE STOPs which again became quite embarrassingly high-pitched as proceedings reached the crescendo. I was starting to revise my pledge to remain silent when the man who was presumably number eight suddenly got up and made his way down the stairs in a hurry. My stomach lurched. I was next. My fantasies of a sexily stinging bottom had come up against the reality of a grown man in the next room squealing in a fashion not unlike a stuck pig.What the hell was I doing here? I started to sweat, why would I voluntarily submit myself to something so clearly agonising? I could just go home with an unbruised bottom and only $50 damage and continue to wank along to the fantasy of it.I was up and heading towards the stairs when number seven emerged from the room, shamelessly rubbing the seat of his trousers and breathing heavily. He clocked the absence of number 8 and me about to run, and whispered as he walked past "it's worth it," and made his way down the stairs.There was a long wait while I hesitated, thinking how awkward it would be to meet number seven on the way out if I bolted. Would Molly be disappointed in me, was a strange thought. The bell chimed twice and the 7 changed to 8 then straight to 9. Molly had clearly informed Ms Reid of number 8's hasty departure. Fuck it, I thought, it's only one minute. I turned, and walked to the door as purposefully as I could, possibly imagining a sigh of relief from number ten as I went through."Remove your head covering, place it on the table beside you and then stand on the red cross with your hands on your head."The room was moodily lit with lamps in all four corners. Ms Reid was an attractive slightly motherly but blonde, early forties, wearing a purple floral print sundress. She was sitting on a leather upholstered chaise longue and gestured to a table, then to a cross made of red electrical tape directly izmit escort in front of her on the dark stained floorboards. I suddenly went weak at the knees when I realised she was pointing with a sturdy wooden paddle, oak I think, about the size of one of those beach racquetball bats, which I was about to become very well acquainted with.I followed the instructions, and stood uncomfortably between her knees, awkwardly close to her considering my raging erection, feeling oddly coy about being bare-faced considering what was about to occur."Hands on your head.""Sorry," I muttered, and complied, uncovering the obvious bulge in my pants, feeling a fool and embarrassed at the same time.In a thrillingly businesslike manner, Ms Reid unbuttoned my fly, pulled my jeans to my knees then quickly whisked down my boxers as well. My erection popped out like a bad joke at a dinner party, becoming as stiff as I could ever recall. She casually flicked the distended head of my cock surprisingly hard with her middle finger, making me flinch and nearly erupt on the spot."Over my knee."She hitched up her dress took a black towel from a pile next to the chair and draped it over her thighs. In case of accidents, I thought. God, don't have an accident. I was so aroused I thought I could go off at any moment. I tried doing the nine times table in my head to calm things down and nearly missed her command to bend over.She eased me over her knee and the strangeness of us both cooperating to facilitate my punishment struck me again. It was surprisingly comfortable. My erection was pressed against the soft towel on her firm thigh but the times table seemed to be working and an orgasm didn't feel imminent. I rested my chin on my forearms. She lifted her right leg over my calves and locked me in place. Her left hand was firm on my waist. I couldn't escape if I tried. I promised myself I wouldn't try to escape.The paddle tapped my naked buttocks. It felt very substantial. I suddenly felt very vulnerable."When you turn over the hourglass, I am going to spank you very hard for one minute. It will be excruciating and you will be sore for a couple of days and bruised for up to a week. You may shout and cry as much as you wish, the only people who will hear you are in the waiting room and of course Molly. Please try and relax and accept your beating as it makes my job easier and will minimise the bruising. Some squirming is inevitable, but please try not to carry on too much. If during your spanking you are unable to cope and wish me to cease, say "mercy" and that will immediately end the session. It will not restart. Do you consent to this?"