Morgan's Promise

Keith's knuckles on his right hand, which was balled into a fist, slowly tapped against the maroon door of Morgan's house.  As he stood waiting for a response his stomach began to churn with butterflies.  He couldn't believe he was actually standing outside her house given the reason he had called her that morning.

Morgan and Keith were good friends, and had been ever since they started working together as executive assistants at the same company seven years ago.  While they had never been romantically involved, they were intimate friends who knew they could tell each other anything, without fear of being ridiculed or gossiped about behind their back.

Through the rain glass that filled the inner portions of the maroon front door Keith could see Morgan approaching.  A few seconds later the front door was opened, and Morgan stood in front of Keith. She was wearing a small bikini with a black top and pink bottoms.  It was the outfit he had asked her to wear during their phone call that morning.

The promise made during that conversation did not end at what she would be wearing.  The second part of the promise replayed in his mind as Morgan stood in the frame of the door.

"So...you actually showed up," she said while folding her arms.  "I had my doubts considering the reason you said you wanted to come over."  Her voice was firm in its resolve, a clear indication that she was ready to fulfill the additional promise.

That additional promise was born out of Keith's desire to finally tell her about a secret fantasy he had been harboring for many years.  During their call he had confessed that fantasy to her, and asked if she would turn it into reality.  Morgan, ever the good and understanding friend, promised that if he actually showed up then his fantasy would be turned into reality, and that reality would be just like the fantasy.

"Yes," Keith replied through a voice that sounded like he had something caught in his throat. "Although I am second guessing myself right now."  He shifted his weight from one foot to the other, the anticipation of what was to come inside her house making him excited and nervous all at once.

Looking at Keith's clothing she could see a bulge coming from the right pocket of his golf-style shorts.  She thought to herself that Keith always dressed with a certain "niceness."  He had paired his dark gray shorts with a light blue polo and white sneakers. 

"Did you bring the wooden bathbrush with you?" she asked, her demeanor exhibiting a nonchalant attitude.

Reaching into his right pocket Keith slowly pulled out a dark brown wooden bathbrush that must have been a quarter inch thick. 

With her right hand Morgan took the brush from Keith. Her eyes fixated on the smooth wood side as she rubbed it in her palm before pulling it back and bringing it down very hard into her palm not once, not twice, but three times.

With each successive smack into her palm the butterflies in Keith's stomach raised further.

Morgan's gaze met his. "This will be very painful, Keith," she warned, holding up the wooden bathbrush. "I can see why you are having second thoughts. Are you absolutely sure you want to go through with this?"

Keith swallowed hard, his eyes flickering between the brush and Morgan. "Yes," he finally choked out. "I want the fantasy turned into reality."

Morgan's expression shifted into an evil grin. "Alright," she said, stepping aside to create a path for him to walk inside. "But remember, once you come inside, there will be no turning back or saying you changed your mind."

Keith took a deep breath. He stood still on the porch, staring at the open doorway. The thought of the fiery pain he had been craving for so long overwhelmed him. He glanced over his shoulder at the street, contemplating turning and running back to his car, parked along the curb in front of Morgan's two-story home. A cool breeze blew through the trees that cast a long shadow over her porch.

With a sudden lurch Morgan took hold of Keith's left arm. "Too much stalling," she scolded, her voice carrying the authority he had hoped for. "You came here to get what you asked for. Twenty minutes of pure, raw discipline with this brush."

Keith felt his arm being tugged, and his body followed almost involuntarily into her home. "You drove over here," she continued, "so that I could fulfill your fantasy of having your bare bottom blistered and set on fire with a spanking given as hard as possible with no holding back."

Her words sent his mind racing, but he found himself nodding in agreement. As the door swung shut behind him, the realization overcame him. There was no turning back now.

Morgan led Keith to the couch in the family room. "We're not wasting any time getting down to business," she announced, her tone leaving no room for argument.

Keith's eyes watered slightly as she sat down. "You're about to be very sorry for asking me to turn your fantasy into reality," she strictly confided. "If you truly believe that having your bare bottom spanked with this brush as hard as possible will be fun, then you are in for a very painful awakening."

The humor in her voice from their phone conversation that morning had disappeared, replaced by a sternness that filled Keith with a level of regret. He had told her about his fantasy and how he thought it would a lot of fun to do it for real. Morgan had found his revelation amusing at first, but her willingness to help her friend led them to this moment.

Morgan looked up at Keith, her eyes flashing with grit. "Alright, Keith," she said, her voice unyielding. "It's time to bare your bottom for your spanking."

Keith had been dreaming of this moment for too long for to remember, but now that it was here, he found it difficult to process that it was really happening. The room felt hot, his palms were sweaty, and his heart was racing.

He stared blankly down at Morgan. She was slowly tapping it against her thighs. He reached down and removed his shoes, followed by his black ankle-high socks. Gulping solemnly, Keith folded the socks and placed them in one of the shoes and stood straight back up.

His eyes would not leave the brush. Tap...Tap...Tap...he could hear and see the slow motion of the brush. Keith put both hands along the bottom of his polo and slowly pulled it over his head. Folding it in a half-hazard fashion, he placed it on top of his shoes. Several deep, and overcoming, breaths later, Keith put his hands on the button of his shorts and twisted the plastic disk through the opening. Moving his right hand down he took hold of the zipper. The sound of the metal teeth releasing broke the silence that had overtaken the room. More deep breaths followed as Keith held the top of his shorts and lethargically lowered them to his ankles.

Morgan's eyes followed the shorts going to the floor as the fabric pooled around his ankles. She couldn't help but notice that Keith had no underwear on. He was bare bottom. "I see you were already prepping to be bare bottom, weren't you?" she said with a knowing smirk.

Keith's face burned with embarrassment, but it was too late to do anything about it now. He stepped out of his shorts, leaving them where they lay, and took one step towards Morgan.

Morgan's grin grew wicked. "Alright, come here," she said, motioning towards him with the wooden bathbrush. "It's time for you to learn the difference between a fun fantasy and a real spanking."

Keith dragged his feet. His eyes remained on the brush as he thought of the fantasy he had told her. This was it, he told himself. It would only be a matter of seconds before Morgan had him over her knee.

Morgan's laugh was like a siren's call. "You have no idea how much fun this spanking is going to be," she said with a sly grin. "But the fun, Keith...will only be for me." Keith felt the blood rush to his face. He had never been so nervous.

Taking hold of his wrist, she firmly pulled him closer. "Now, are you ready for the spanking you have been fantasizing about?" she snarkily asked.

Standing there frozen Keith began to shiver as she repeated her question, "I asked...are you ready for your spanking?"

The word "Yes" barely escaped in response.

"Then ask me. Ask me right now to pull you over my knee for a real and painful spanking with me using this brush as a paddle," she said sternly.

Gulping before speaking, Keith whimpered, "Morgan, will you pull me over your knee for a real and very painful spanking? A spanking given with the wooden bathbrush used as a paddle as hard as you possibly can spank? For no less than 20 minutes and no safeword?"

Morgan's grin grew even more sinister. "No safeword," she repeated, her eyes sparkling with sadistic pleasure. "You're going to regret adding that tidbit, Keith. But...this is your fantasy. You can't say I didn't warn you."

With a rigid yank, she quickly pulled Keith over her knee. His bare bottom was now up in the air for her to paddle, his cheeks a stark white against the caramel of her tanned thighs. He let out a gasp as his body adjusted to the position, his face burning as he turned his head, trying to look back to see his bare bottom sticking up in the air.

The anticipation was obvious. Keith's body stiffened with anticipation. The brush hovered in the air, the moment before impact seemingly stretched endlessly. Then, without warning, it crashed down onto his bare bottom with an emphatic crack that seemed to shake the very foundation of the house.

The pain was immediate and intense, a white-hot bolt of agony that took his breath away. His body jerked involuntarily, but Morgan's grip was like a vice, keeping him in place over her knee. He felt the heat spreading across his bottom.

Each smack of the brush sent a fresh wave of pain through him, making him howl and squirm. His bare bottom was already singed with the sound of wood meeting his bottom filling the house. Keith had never felt anything like this before, the reality of his fantasy was so much more than he had ever imagined.

Morgan was ferocious, her arm rising and falling with the precision of a timepiece. The brush left a fiery trail across his backside, the sting growing with every hit.

His legs kicked and his hands reached back to cover his sore bottom, but Morgan was having none of it. She pinned his wrists behind his back with one hand, keeping him in place as she continued her measured spanking.

Keith's bare ass continued to be blistered as the time wound down, each swing no less force than when she had first started the spanking almost 20 minutes ago.

Morgan finally gave Keith's backside one final smack.

"Alright," she said, sympathetically, "you've had enough for now. Get up and go to the bathroom to get some tissue to wipe your face."

Keith slowly rose. His bare bottom was uncontrollably bouncing up and down from throbbing. He limped towards the bathroom, his eyes brimming with tears.

Morgan watched him go, her own breathing still heavy from the exertion. She had given him exactly what he had asked for: a no-holds barred, bare bottom spanking with the wooden brush. But she couldn't help but feel a twinge of pity as she saw his reddened, bruised cheeks and heard his quiet sobs.

In the bathroom, Keith turned the water on from the sink. Placing both hands under the cool water he cupped to create a small basin. Once full he bent his head down and splattered the water on his face. Reaching for a hand towel Keith wiped his face, the tears still dropping. He tentatively turned around, his eyes meeting his reflection. The sight that greeted him was unbelievable. His bare bottom was a deep shade of red and purple. The skin was mottled with the clear outlines of where the brush had struck, and there were welts rising on his sensitive cheeks.

He winced as he reached back to touch his well-paddled backside, but the contact only made it worse. He quickly pulled his hand away, hissing through clenched teeth.

Morgan had warned him, but he hadn't truly understood the severity of her intentions. He had thought that maybe, just maybe, she would hold back a little. But she hadn't, at least he didn't think so. She had spanked him with the full force of her strength.

Keith shuffled back into the living room where Morgan still sat on the couch.

"Turn around," she instructed, her voice softer than the thunderclaps of the spanking she had just administered. He complied, his legs still barely able to hold him up, and the pain in his bottom a stark reminder of the spanking.

He took a deep breath and slowly turned, presenting his sore bottom to her. The room was silent except for his quiet whimpers and the sound of his bare feet shuffling on the carpet.

Morgan's eyes widened slightly as she took in the state of his bare bottom. "Wow," she murmured, a hint of admiration in her voice. "I guess I didn't hold back as much as I thought I did."

Keith's voice was tense as he managed to ask, "You...you...held back, Morgan?" His eyes searched hers for any sign of her joking.

Morgan's expression remained serious, "Held back?" she repeated, raising an eyebrow. "I did, just a little?" Morgan said while holding her thumb and finger close together.

Keith stared at her in disbelief, "You mean, it could have been worse?"

Morgan's laugh was cold. "Much worse," she said, her voice dripping with evil.

Keith was terrified at the prospect. "So be warned, Keith, if you ever ask me for another spanking I will not hold back even a little." Her words were a promise and a threat all rolled into one.

Gulping, Keith started getting dressed. As he sat gingerly on the couch putting his socks and shoes on, he looked at Morgan in a way she could tell he was thinking of what she had just said.

Morgan noticed this look of want on Keith's face and leaned in closer to him, her voice low and seductive. "Do you want to go back over my knee, Keith?" she asked, a hint of curiosity in her tone. "Bare?"

Keith's eyes stared blank back to hers, the question catching him off guard. He knew the answer was yes, but the thought of enduring another spanking made his stomach twist. "I..." he started, his voice trailing off.

Morgan leaned in closer, her breath warm against his ear. "Do you want another spanking right now?"

Keith's breath hitched. He hadn't expected the question, and the sudden thrill of it was intoxicating. Despite the agony that still lingered from the last round, the idea of feeling the brush's fiery kiss again was tantalizing.

He took a moment to compose himself before speaking. "I...I want to come back," he said, his voice uncertain. "When my bottom is white again."

Morgan's grin grew wider. "Oh, so you enjoyed it?" she teased, her eyes dancing with amusement.

Keith gulped. "No, it was not fun like I thought it would be," he admitted, looking down at the floor.

Morgan leaned back on the couch, her eyes never leaving his. "It's not supposed to be fun, Keith," she said, her voice still stern. "Your fantasy was pure discipline."

Keith shrugged his shoulders. "I know," he gurgled. "But it was very exciting baring my bottom and bending over your knee. Laying over your knee with my bottom up was fun. Until you started spanking."

Morgan's laugh was short and sharp. "Oh, so you liked the build-up but not the actual spanking?" she said, raising a valid point. "Well, that's a bit of a problem, isn't it?"

Keith squirmed, trying to avoid her gaze. "I just didn't expect it to be so... intense," he said, his voice small.

Morgan's smile grew wicked. "You didn't think I'd go easy on you, did you?" she asked, a hint of mockery in her voice. "This is what you wanted, remember?"

His eyes met hers, and he nodded solemnly. "Yes, I remember."

Morgan's smirk grew more pronounced. "Good," she said, standing up and brushing off her thighs. "Because the moment you walk out that door, the deal is sealed. The next time you come over, you're going to bare your bottom for another painful spanking. And next time....I am going to take a leather strap to your bare bottom."

His body hardened at the mention of the leather strap. "A leather strap?" He bellowed.

"Oh, yes, a leather strap," she replied through her wet lips.

Keith's shivered at the thought of the leather strap, but his excitement grew. "How about now?" he asked, with an uncertain coddle.

Morgan laughed and shook her head. "No, Keith, you've had enough for one day. But I'll hold you to your word. Next time you're here, it's the strap."

"Alright," he responded, trying to hide the disappointment in his voice.

Morgan's eyes narrowed slightly, studying his reaction. "I'll hold you to it, Keith. Now, go home and think about what you've learned today."

Keith made his way to the door. He paused, his hand on the doorknob, and turned back to Morgan. "What about just ten smacks, or maybe fifteen, with the strap, right now?" he asked with a sense of what am I doing in his thoughts. "Bare. I can bend over the arm of the couch. Please."

Morgan tapped her finger against her chin, considering his proposal. "Ten smacks with the strap," she mused, her eyes dancing back and forth. "Bare. Over the arm of the couch."

"Please, Morgan," he begged, his eyes searching hers for any sign of relenting. "Just ten. Or fifteen."

Morgan's expression softened, and she took a step closer to him. "Okay, if that is what you want. Come over here, take your shorts down, and bend over the arm of the couch. And remember, this is just a taste of what's to come."

Doing as Morgan said he moved to the couch, bared his bottom, and bent over the arm of the couch. His palms flat on the cushions, his bottom pointed up at a raised angle.

"Stay put," Morgan ordered, her voice leaving no room for argument. She walked away towards the laundry room.

Keith remained in position, his bottom sticking up in the air, as he anticipated the feel of the leather strap. He could hear the sound of her rummaging through a drawer, with the terror growing stronger with every passing second. He took deep breaths, trying to calm himself down, but the pain from the earlier spanking was still too fresh.

Finally, Morgan emerged from the laundry room, the strap in hand. It was long and thick, the leather looking well-used and sturdy. Keith's stomach flipped at the sight of it. He knew he had just made a huge mistake. She approached him, the strap swinging gently from her hand, the sound of it cutting through the silence like a whip.

"Are you sure you want this strapping right now? Does the anticipation make you want it more?"

Keith gulped, his eyes squeezed shut. He knew he should say no but in his mind he knew he wanted to say yes. "It's... it's exciting. Yes, please give the strapping as hard as you can."

Morgan's eyes glinted with curiosity. "Tell me, Keith," she said. "What is it about the build-up that you find so thrilling?"

His forehead beaded with sweat from intensity of the situation. "It's... it's the anticipation," he managed to say. "The thought of what's going to happen."

Morgan stepped closer, her eyes locked on his bottom, blistered from the earlier paddling. "The fear...the excitement?" she suggested, her voice dropping to a love octave.

"Yes...yes," he admitted, his throat tight.

Morgan stepped closer, "So, are you ready then? "You're going to get fifteen of my hardest smacks with this strap.

Morgan swung the strap through the air as she watched Keith's bottom jump with with each passing swing.

Keith knew this was only the beginning of what was to come.

Morgan took her position behind him, the strap feeling heavier than it looked in her hand. Slowly, she raised the strap, letting it hover just above the center of his cheeks. He flinched at the anticipation of the first strike. With a swift motion, she brought the strap down, the leather making a sharp sound as it connected with his skin. Keith let out a strangled cry. The line left by the strap was a stark contrast against the redness from the brush, standing out like a white-hot brand.