A crying Nina got dressed, had breakfast, and caught the bus to the office thinking over the recent changes to her life, her daughter watching her being spanked and caned, the connection between being spanked and sex, something her daughter had shown her. She couldn’t stop thinking about being spanked. Up to now being spanked had been purely disciplinary. She did something wrong and her Mum spanked her. She cried, her bottom ached, but she got over it. She had often masturbated after a spanking but had never connected spanking to sex. Her Mum was strict and thorough but it was just that, a Mum spanking her naughty albeit 37 year old daughter. Nina thought that bit, the need for her to be disciplined, was still the same. Something else though made it different. Emily had opened a door for her. A door of pleasure. Nina got to work and took a while to sit down on her chair, wincing as she did, and as she sat at her desk even her assistant remarked how quiet she was. When asked why she. The memory surfaced halfway through a shower. I’d closed and locked the door hoping beyond hope that Jeff would get up and leave. After the bar, we had sat on the couch and kissed for a good half hour before he pulled me into the bedroom. His hands were everywhere, staring at my face, drawing down to the seam of my bra, and lower to the button on my Sevens. I wanted so badly to tell my past self to wake up, stop, but it didn’t listen. Where was my fucking mother hen? ‘So Cal. .’ he giggled because he’s a fucking nut, ‘. . get it , SoCal. Wanna get naked?’ ‘Na-ked.’ I had giggled too because it seemed appropriate. Oh God no. This cannot have happened. ‘Yeah, baby, naked.’ His fingers slipped between my skin and the waist of my jeans, and I trembled a bit at the feel of hands on my belly. A feather would have sent me into an orgasm at this point. Jeff had always been semi-okay in the love making department. I think with alcohol it made him into a fucking porn star. His fingers grazed.
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