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“Oh,” I let out. “Ummm...yeah, I think that would be nice.” He then leaned further back and twisted his head as he brought his right hand up to place it on the right side of my chin, turning my face toward his and pulling me into a slow, sensual kiss. I closed my eyes and took note of every sensation: the feel of his skin on my fingers, the rough texture of his hand on my face, the ribbed surface of his tongue against mine and his warm breath on my cheek. When I pulled my face away and opened my eyes, I saw something in his that made me worry. There seemed to be an air of concern behind those hazel pools that somehow glistened even in moonlight.“Josh,” I said quietly, “We don’t have do anything you’re not comfortable with. This doesn’t have to be any more than it already is.”His eyes dropped for a second, but when they met mine again, there was a determination that hadn’t been there before. “I know,” he said quietly. He then went on, with a look of sexual aggression that I had come. Two inches of bare midriff separated it from her tight jeans, held up by a thick studded belt; I thought of using that across her cheeky behind but had second thoughts. My hand would suffice for her first spanking. Jill had confided that her daughter had never been spanked before by anyone. She was a pampered puss right enough, wearing expensive looking pink strappy high-heels revealing matching pink nail polish. "Has your mother explained the situation to you?" I asked. Jill nodded from her chair opposite me. "It's either a spanking or you leave by the end of the week," she said, clearly fed up with the girl's attitude. I was sitting on the arm of the sofa to give me a better sitting height with my legs slightly apart. "Well, er ... I don't want to leave," she answered nervously. Her arrogance was waning at the sight of me in my spanking position. "But you can't possibly spank me!" she said still trying to wriggle out of what she knew was coming. "I'm eighteen, you know. Not.
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