Joan, Part Three

If you have been following this series so far you will have realised by now that Joan was probably one of the more difficult women who have ever drawn breath. The first real spanking that I gave her came about two months into our relationship. Up until then Joan had been on her best behaviour, fearful that if she didn't mind her manners then she would receive a tanning similar to the one that her ex-boyfriend had given her before she and I had met. However, with a personality like Joan's, such good behaviour had only a brief shelf life as sooner rather than later she was going to revert to her old provocative self.

The first spanking I gave her was in about February 1980. It was late in the evening and Joan had changed into her nightdress, an ankle-length, cream-coloured nylon affair that was quite transparent. She wore a negligée over it, and on the night in question she had been drinking and was determined to give me grief over something or other. I remember telling her to shut up otherwise I would spank her and she replied in that sullen tone that out of sorts women often use: "You can't."

Big mistake, Joan, as I stood her up, pulled loose the belt of her negligée and then pushed the garment off her shoulders and away from her body. Sitting down I pulled Joan across my knee and lifted up the hem of her nightdress to reveal a firm, large, round pair of buttocks neatly encased in brown panties.

I wasn't messing around this time and the panties came down. Joan's hands were held behind her back leaving her buttocks defenceless and my right thigh was cocked over both her legs to prevent too much kicking. The spanking was about to begin!

I remember that I smacked her right cheek rather more than the left, as she was bucking like a wild bronco, and it took all my strength to hold her in position. Nevertheless, and for all future spankings, I have always managed to alternate the buttock cheeks, but on that occasion one came in for rather more attention than its neighbour.

Joan was spanked and spanked very soundly indeed until she began to cry and then I let her fall to the floor. After a few minutes blubbering she looked at me resentfully and muttered: "I'm not your child," to which I replied: "Then don't behave as if you are." That was the end of that and soon afterwards we went to bed.

I would like to report a happy ending to this affair but sadly there wasn't. Joan was just so wilful that I began to feel weary of the whole business. I was devastated when we eventually broke up, but looking back, I am glad that we did. Joan was just one of those women who drains any man that she meets, which is why she is now twice-divorced and living alone, so I hear.