It’s cold outside… well, actually it is quite mild in these parts, but I’m imagining the icicles hanging off the guttering and the frosty pine cones. My hands are freezing…. well, actually, they’re nice and warm because I’m busy typing. Cold hands for a writer means I need to type faster. To be honest, I’m quite comfortable, all over.
So imagine those frozen hands. You’ve forgotten your gloves, the pockets of your coat are too small and standing next to you is somebody glowing with warmth. It’s a Winter’s night, late one Saturday and ….. read on for my Winter Spanking story…..
The ice cracked under his feet. With a stomp of his foot, another small piece broke off from the frozen form of the puddle. In the street light, the ice looked white against the dark paving stones. His arms were folded across his front, shoulders slightly hunched and eyes on his stamping feet.
Trish bit back a comment. One of her ‘I told you so’ type remarks that would seriously piss him off.
She was dressed for the winter weather. Cocooning her in warmth was her black bomber jacket, which came down to her hips. Then there was the woollen bobble hat, which Kieran always joked about, her leather driving gloves and a short stripy scarf. They didn’t co-ordinate well as fashion accessories but when the weather was freezing, who cared. Instead of berating Kieran for his choice of clothing, or the lack of it – Kieran was not wearing a hat, or scarf or gloves and his jacket was not layered for warmth – Trish kept her mouth shut and glanced down the road. The bus was late.
The street was deserted and strangely quiet even for the late hour. A little after midnight, Trish and her boyfriend had been to see a late film at the local cinema. What they hadn’t anticipated was the unreliability of the night bus service. They had been waiting for quarter of an hour.
Kieran flapped his hands on his sides before cursing under his breath. Trish snorted derisively. She couldn’t help it – her suggestion, before leaving the house, for him to wear warmer clothing had been met with a macho ‘I’ll be fine’ response.
He had heard it, her little exclamation. He stopped staring at the frozen puddle and moved towards Trish.
“My hands are like ice-cubes.”
Trish gave a small unsympathetic shrug. “I’m nice and warm.”
“Mmmm. You do look cosy.” Another few steps towards her and then she saw the look. He had a purpose to his ambling and she didn’t think she was going to like the outcome.
Putting his arms around her did not upset Trish. Snuggling against his broad chest was quite lovely and she could feel him shiver slightly. His hands roved up and down her back. She tilted her faced up towards his so he could quickly captured her lips with his own, enveloping them and breathing in her heated exhale. It would be tempting to remain there in a tight embrace with their lips merged into one, but Kieran lifted his head back up.
“Better,” she asked?
“A little. You are really toastie. I bet that butt of yours is glowing.”
Trish laughed, seeing the glint of humour in his eyes. “Yeah, it is snug down there.” The moment she said the words, she regretted them. His hands dived down, slipped under the elasticated waist of her pants and straight inside her knickers
Trish shrieked. “Fuck! Your hands are cold.” She tried to push away from Kieran, but the man was strong. He tightened his embrace by clenching his frozen hands around her heated lobes. Trish wriggled and thumped her hands on his chest.
“Cruel man!” she shrilled. “You’re freezing my arse off.”
“Am I?” he teased. “Making you share my cold seems only fair.”
“For you,” she snapped.
Kieran began to rub his hands against her bottom, squeezing his fingertips about her cheeks and even dipping down to find the crease of her upper thigh. There was barely room for his large hands in the confines of her pants, and the fabric had stretched tightly about them both.
It was Trish’s turn to shiver. Her breath blew out with an exasperated huff. The pale grey mist joined with Kieran’s to create what looked like a smoke plume. It was super cold that night with clear skies and no moon to brighten the night sky.
“True, very true,” smirked Kieran, “it isn’t fair. I know of a better way. Something which will warm your cheeks and my hands at the same time.”
Trish guffawed. She knew what he was referring to and there was no way he would in a public street. “Oh yeah?” she taunted him.
“Yeah?” he repeated back. “Is that a challenge? Are you implying I don’t carry through with my plans?”
“What!” Trish’s eyes began to widen. The tone of his voice was a mixture of playfulness and determination. A combination she had come to recognise as one not to ignore. “You wouldn’t…”
“Wouldn’t I?” He pulled his hands out of her pants and quickly grabbed a wrist.
“Kieran, not here!” she baulked, looking about. The streets remained empty and the traffic had been non-existent. Where was everyone? “People will see.”
She was being tugged along by Kieran and she could see where he was taking her. The bus shelter was made from Perspex and the clear plastic had been filled with advertising posters. From roof to ground the shelter formed a barrier by the side of the road. Behind the shelter was a tall brick wall lining the neighbouring park land. There, behind the shelter, the street light had cast a dark shadow. It was a darkness, which Kieran saw as their sanctuary from prying eyes.
“No, no!” exclaimed Trish as he drew her into the blackness. Now all she could see was his bright blue eyes and mischievous expression, highlighted by the outer rim of the street lights glare. Below, where his hands rested on her hips, was a grim nothingness.
“You can’t take me over your knee,” she sniped at him. “The bus is due anyway.”
“We’ll hear it long before it is visible.”
“What if somebody comes by?”
“It’s a chance I’ll take. My hands our getting cold again and the longer you procrastinate, the longer it will take to warm them up.”
“My pants stay up,” she said in her firmest voice.
“Naturally,” he drew her closer to him until her breasts touched his chest. An arm wrapped around her shoulders while the other remained close by her hips.
Trish’s nervous system was going into overdrive. The buzz of adrenaline hit her long before his hand descended. Immediately her heart pounded, signalling to him she was ready. He liked her on the edge. The hand landed with a deep thud, smacking against the thick fabric of her pants. She jolted against him, breasts pressed on to his firm chest muscles and she stayed there. The blow did very little to her, but she knew more would follow.
Kieran lowered his other arm. “Both hands need warming,” he pointed out. There was another thwack against her other bottom cheek and it stung. A gasp of moist air left Trish’s mouth and began its path across the frozen air.
Kieran continued, picking up speed and force, one buttock then the next. Left then right. The noise seemed ridiculously loud to Trish. She had to grit her teeth as he built up his pace and then he started to spank with both hands simultaneously. She could see his palms out of the corner of her eyes. They swung outwards and crashed on to her bottom like two cymbals.
Trish buried her mouth into the soft suede of his jacket and let out a muted squawk of pain. Now the heat was beginning to burn. Beneath the clothing, trapped by its layers, her skin fired up and turned into a mini furnace. The pain was an accompaniment she could bear, the heat was delightful and radiated outwards, keeping the rest of her warm.
Kieran was grunting with effort. They were not having sex, no frantic coupling against a bus shelter, but the energy, the intensity was similar and the two behaved as if they were in the midst of a passionate display of love-making.
“Oh God, Kieran,” muttered Trish clawing at his shoulders, hanging on to him. Tears pricked in her eyes: hot tears smarting in the frozen air. “Please, please!”
Kieran didn’t stop. She wasn’t asking him to halt, she was asking him to push her further. Inhibitions about being outdoors in a public arena had been forgotten and now Trish wanted the full effect of a spanking.
Suddenly he stopped. A hand held in mid-air and Trish watched Kieran cock his head to one side.
“Bus is coming.”
He propped up back up and the two stared at each other in the darkness. Both had a breathlessness about their breathing, but each for different reasons.
“Are your hands warmer, Honey?” Trish couldn’t resist asking.
“Mmmm, much better,” said Kieran.
“You really should have worn your gloves, like I suggested,” Trish couldn’t help herself.
“Cheeky,” said Kieran. “You know, I might just have to give you another spanking when we get home.”
“Except this one will be on your bare butt,” he promised.
“The best kind,” said Trish.
She watched Kieran dart out from behind the shelter to wave down the bus driver. There was a screeched of brakes as the bus began to slow up. Trish emerged from behind the shelter, she couldn’t hide the smile on her face from the other passengers on the bus. They wouldn’t know why. Nor would they know she was looking forward to laying across Kieran’s lap, completely naked and offering up her red cheeks for further attention.
As she joined Kieran on the bus, she had to let slip one more little aside. “Bus isn’t heated. What you going to do about it?”
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