Jane and I met in an online forum for spanking enthusiasts. Our connection began with conversation about experiences and desires, that led to exchange of spanking fiction. The correspondence went on for several weeks before we realized we were practically neighbors - Jane living in the adjacent development. Proximity led to the idea of acting on our interests - for Jane this meant receiving consequences for various acts, like slacking-off at work, procrastination, poor driving habits and weight loss. Jane was voluptuous and round in all the right places, but sought to drop some of that weight. The other behaviors were a bit more episodic and met with a wide variety of implements, positions and severity.

Conversely, her weightless targets and consequences were more codified - if she lost two or more pounds in a week, that was considered ‘success’ and she received only three swats. The implement was a paddle that I had made and she had named ‘Buster’. It was from half-inch oak stock, three and a half inches wide and sixteen inches long. A grid of half-inch holes was bored in the contact zone. I knew from personal experience that it really stung, particularly when applied to a bare bottom - the only way Jane ever received a spanking from me. If she failed to meet her target, the penalties increased. We met almost weekly to review her weigh-in but also the other behaviors she was required to track in a shared cloud document.

She was a confirmed ‘bottom’ although I gently attempted to suggest switching. I yearned to have her take me over her lap and warm my ass. She was also evasive about responding to the obvious arousal that spankings caused in us both. Our one-sided and sexless spanking connection was still wonderful and be both enjoyed our sessions.

Jane called me late one evening, a bit distraught. “I’ve been really naughty,” she began.

“How naughty?” I asked.

“Buster naughty,” she replied. She and a few friends had thrown a bachelorette party and Jane had wildly over-consumed margaritas. Her judgement badly impaired, she had accepted a dare from the bride-to-be and led a handsome, young bartender out to her car and had given him a handjob. Part of the dare was proof of completion so she returned to the party with ‘evidence’ cupped in her hand and countered-dared her challenger to ingest it - an invitation the bride eagerly accepted.

‘Well at least you didn’t suck or screw him,’ I thought but didn’t say outlaid. “Ok. Come over. This is something that needs immediate attention,” I instructed. Jane arrived a few minutes later, still in the sundress she had worn to the party. I led her into my living room where Buster lay on the coffee table. “You have been a very naughty girl and need to have your bare bottom paddled,” I scolded.

“Yes, sir,” Jane replied, her face showing a mixture at trepidation at the likely severe punishment but intense excitement as well. She had frequently shared that along with the sting in her bottom, a good spanking really aroused her sexually.

“We’ll take care of the inebriation first,” I noted. “I have something new to suggest in response to your handjob dare.” She nodded awaiting guidance. “Over the arm of the sofa,” I commanded. Draped over the high, well-padded arm of my living room sofa was a familiar pose. She positioned herself as ordered, her crossed forearms on the seat and her toes just barely touching the floor. I flipped up the back of her dress and slowly pealed down her frilly black panties. Her round bottom presented such a wonderful, compelling target. Her legs were parted just enough to provide a view of her sex that glistened and was clearly engorged with arousal.

I tapped the paddle against her cheeks and added, “Count these!”

When she hollered “Twelve!,” her cheeks were beginning to show bruises. I had delivered what I regarded as moderately intense swats but a dozen even middling impacts from Buster were easily contusing. She was out of breath and I let her recover before presenting her with a submissive alternative, “For giving the fellow a handjob, you have a choice either take another round of swats or submit to me jerking off on you.”

“The latter,” she replied eagerly.

“Ok,” I responded with obvious excitement. I laid Buster on the table and beckoned her to stand in front of me. I unbuttoned her sundress and gazed at her cleavage. She seemed to anticipate my desires and reached in and liberated her generous breast from her bra and then knelt. I began to unfasten my pants, lowered them and tugged my boxers down, letting my erection bobble free as she waited. I began to stroke myself but after a bit she took my right hand in her left and began to stroke me with her right. Far too quickly I was at the verge and then released several copious jets onto her - semen landing indiscriminately on her face, neck, shoulders and chest.

“Now you’ve been the naughty one,” she cooed, spreading the viscous rivulets like lotion over her skin. “Bend over with your hands on your knees,” she chided, picking up Buster and tapping against my quivering, expectant cheeks.