Parts 1 and 2 are archived on my web site...

http://www.geocities.com/lurkingcol

This series contains M/F, F/M spanking and a little sex, though not as much as my previous stories :-)

• A Tea Pot (Part 3) (c) Copyright 2001 [email protected] May be freely distributed provided no fees are charged for access to this story and the copyright message is not removed.

Roger examined the Egyptian artefacts, enclosed behind secure glass panels. In truth, he was more interested in studying the petite brunette near the pre-classical Greek display.

He had seen her several times today as he had strolled through every nook and cranny of this vast museum. He had walked behind her through the Medieval Moats, trying to take in some of the ancient architecture as well as her perfect bottom. Later, as he struggled through a group of camera flashing tourists, desperate to get closer to the Mona Lisa, he was certain he could see her looking at him out of the corner of his eye. After he'd taken in the underwhelming painting, the brunette could not be seen.

It wasn't just her stunning looks that drew Roger to the girl. Though she was striking, lovely, with soft blue eyes, flowing brown locks that curled just past her shoulders, and luscious lips that seemed designed for erotic purposes. Rather Roger's curiosity, though enhanced by her beauty, was due to the deep blue glow that he saw fleetingly around her, when she turned or he flicked his eyes over her.

She was definitely a spanko. His experience with Lisa, the university student on the train, had convinced him that his new powers worked. Since arriving in France, the last leg of his world trip, he'd noticed that nearly a quarter of the women he saw had at least a little blue tinge around them. He rued that perhaps the more equal the women of a country were treated, the more they enjoyed a submissive role in the bedroom.

The brunette was also familiar, though he couldn't place her. He knew she wasn't French; he'd heard her ask an aide for directions, before resorting to English when they had given her puzzled looks. She was definitely American. He knew he hadn't gone to school with her; he would certainly remember if he had.

She was standing close to him now, seemingly interested in a long dead mummy. He could smell her perfume - feminine, not at all overpowering. Roger could not help glancing sideways at her. He was trying to place that face.

"Can't quite work out who I am?", the brunette said, smiling at a surprised Roger.

"Ah, no. You look familiar though. Should I know who you are? I'm going to feel like such a idiot if you know me," Roger replied.

"No I don't know you, and you shouldn't feel bad that you don't recognise me. I prefer being able to walk around almost anonymously," she said, her smile radiating warmth and confidence. She extended her hand.

"I'm Denise Richards, pleased to meet a fellow English speaking tourist," she said, extending her hand.

Roger's jaw dropped slightly. The name placed her instantly - the brunette babe from the sci-fi cult Starship Troopers and the next James Bond girl. And even better, this beautiful young woman standing a foot away from him positively glowed with a blue 'spanko' aura.

"Ah, I should have recognised you. I saw Starship Troopers twice, for the leading actress of course," he said with a grin. "My name's Roger Davis, and I'm pleased to meet somebody who's French is probably as bad as mine," Roger said, accepting her handshake.

Now what do I say, he wondered. Roger realised he could not make the usual smalltalk, he already knew what she did. Asking for an autograph seemed a lame way to chat up a girl.

"Nice mummy," Roger stammered, turning to the display. He was desperate to say something, anything.

Denise looked at him briefly, a smirk on her face, then they both burst out into uncontrollable laughter. Roger was laughing so hard he could feel his eyes starting to water.

"Yep, 26th Dynasty I'd say," Denise added, causing them both to break out into another fit of side splitting laughter.

Finally, they regained composure, helped by the cold stares of other visitors as their mirth echoed in the small chamber. Denise put her hand reassuringly on Roger's shoulder.

"Relax, I'm not an alien," she said. "Let's go explore. I don't know about you, but I've still got lots to see in here."

Truth be told, Roger had pretty much finished exploring the Louvre, but he was willing to see it all again. Together, they headed for a stunning collection of French sculptures. The ice was broken now, and conversation flowed easily.

Roger was cursing himself as he walked into the formal reception of the Le Grande, its luxury lost on his wandering mind. How could he get nervous at the last minute, he thought. Roger continued to berate himself; he had an ideal opportunity to ask the beautiful, delightful, and spanko Denise Richards for dinner, and he'd simply chickened out, thinking himself unworthy. He smiled to himself, he had not even managed an autograph.

Roger sighed, and strolled towards the elevators. He was never going to forgive himself this time. Despite the prices, the mini bar was in danger tonight.

Then he saw her. It was only a glimpse this time, as she stepped into an elevator a dozen yards in front of him, but those locks of brown hair were now burned into his mind.

He leapt into top gear, diving for the closing door. Just as the door was about to close he squeezed his hand inside, triggering the concealed sensor. The door slid open, revealing Ms Denise Richards leaning in a corner, a barely concealed expression of surprise on her face.

"My my, I hope you are not stalking me," she said, looking as though she did not really mind if he was.

"No no, this is my motel too, room 327. Strange coincidence I guess," Roger replied.

The door slid closed. Roger knew he only had seconds. There would be no regrets now.

"Say, Denise, I really enjoyed your company this afternoon. Would you care for a bite to eat?", Roger asked, his heart in his mouth.

Denise looked carefully at Roger, as if weighing up her response. "Sorry, just eaten, by myself, you should have asked me this afternoon."

'Duh!', thought Roger.

Denise glanced at the panel. Her floor was coming up soon. Blasted lifts are so fast these days, she thought. "I might be interested in something else. I'm flying out tomorrow morning, but I've got some spare time on my hands tonight," she said.

"How about a mov-," Roger cut himself off. That was not what he really wanted. He paused, summoning up his courage. Denise looked at him expectantly. "I, um, I know about your, your kink," he said.

Ding! The lift door slid open with a groan. Denise was still looking at Roger, a calculated stare. She was completely off guard, expecting a invitation for a drink or a movie. Then, she moved towards the doorway. Roger tilted his head in resignation. He should have suggested a movie. At least he had tried.

"Which kink would that be?", Denise asked, her body turned back slightly, blocking the lift doors, her eyebrow raised in curiousity.

"Ah, the same one as Liz Hurley," Roger replied, a pin prick of hope shining in his eyes.

Denise's eyes lit up. "Oh, that kink. I must have missed that appearing in the tabloids. I wonder which former boyfriend I have to thank." She paused. "Anyway, your point is?"

"Ah," Roger said, "I have the same kink too."

Denise failed to hide her surprise. "Well, I didn't see that coming. Now I know why you were staring at my butt all day," she added with a sly grin. She considered the situation, then decided to take the plunge. He seemed nice enough, and it might be fun.

"It has been a while, especially since I'm single now. How about I come to your room in half an hour or so? I'll even bring my trusty hairbrush!", Denise said, the edge of her excitement showing.

Roger grinned as widely as humanly possible and nodded. Denise smiled back, now with a definite sexy edge, winked, and left for her room. Roger admired her sexy, soon-to-be-spanked bottom as she walked down the corridor, turning his head so he could see it until the lift doors closed.

Roger waited anxiously in his motel room. He couldn't believe he was going to get to spank a famous, beautiful young woman. He planned on using one of his special gifts; she'd never want to leave him. Roger could not wait to see his friends' faces when he introduced her.

A firm knock on the door brought Roger out of his revere. He straightened his shirt, ran his fingers through his hair, and opened the door.

If Denise Richards had been merely beautiful before, now she looked simply stunning. She had applied a touch of make-up, the Hollywood actresses best friend, changed her clothes and brushed her long flowing locks.

Roger invited her in, and was slightly surprised as she strutted purposefully into the room. He admired her bottom, now tightly moulded by a short leather skirt. His cock stiffened in his pants.

Denise removed her jacket, placing it on a nearby chair. She wore a short tight black top, revealing the swell of her firm breasts and exposing her belly button. It was clear she wore no bra. The night was promising more than spanking.

Roger watched her intensely. Though he had invited her here, he felt like the outsider. The dynamics did not feel right yet. How could he start being stern with her, like she'd want, like she'd need? He had to play it by ear.

She glanced around the room. Roger felt pangs of inadequacy. Was his room good enough? It was after all, the cheapest in the motel. He had only stayed at this exclusive motel because it had been where his childhood hero Harrison Ford had shot the film Frantic. His fears were short lived. Denise smiled, turning her head slightly as if the two of them shared a sexy secret.

Denise reached into her handbag. She withdrew a large wooden hairbrush, placing her bag on the double bed that dominated the room. She held the brush in front of Roger, teasing him slightly as she waved it in front of her.

"Think this will do the trick?", she asked. The words breaking the spell that had been cast since she walked into the room.

"Are you sure your bottom's up to it? I spank pretty hard," Roger replied, making sure Denise knew what she was in for. She might be famous, but Roger still intended to warm her bottom properly.

Denise's eyes widened at the statement, momentarily off-guard. She moved closer. Roger's eyes tried to stay on her face, but her breasts screamed to be worshipped. His cock hardened as she closed the distance between them.

"You want to spank my bottom hard don't you? Put me over your knee and give me a good dose of this brush. Maybe even on the bare," Denise whispered, her breasts only inches from Roger's chest.

"Yes," Roger said, his voice thick with desire.

"Perhaps you don't know my kink as well as you think," Denise said, coming closer. She was wearing heels, and her eyes were level with Rogers. The tips of her breasts now touched Roger's chest. Her impossibly erotic physique was all Roger could think of. His penis throbbed with need.

"You know I am into spanking like Liz Hurley. Almost. You see," she said, placing her left hand on the back of Roger's thigh, "Liz is a bottom. As for me, well I am a top. I like to spank men." Then, like a shark closing on its prey, she placed the hairbrush against Roger's bottom, running the hard surface in circles over his pants.

Roger was stunned. He had never considered that his powers could identify female tops. "Well, ah, I'm a bottom, I mean a top!", he quickly corrected himself.

"A Freudian slip perhaps?", Denise said, pushing herself slightly against him, feeling her own nipples tingle at the touch. She had felt momentarily off balance when she'd found out he was a top too, but she was too aroused to stop. The thought of giving this man's virgin bottom his very first tanning appealed.

Most people found Denise Richards charming, flirtatious and feminine. But her feminine exterior hid a darker side; she could pounce like a tigress in the bedroom, never satisfied to just lie and admire the ceiling. How she liked to turn the tables on her man in private. And right now, more urgently, how she wanted to spank this young hunk. He would feel her claws yet.

She squirmed her body against his. This wasn't the first time she'd met a reluctant spankee. Fortunately men were easily led by the smaller of their two brains. "You can't tell me you haven't at least thought about it. You can't spank other people's bottoms without being at least slightly curious," she said, pushing the brush harder against Roger's bottom to emphasise her point.

She moved in for the kill, sliding her leg in-between Roger's, feeling his hardness against her thigh. She ran her hand up his back, pulling her lips closer to the side of his face. She whispered.

"What does it feel like to be spanked by a woman? Dominated, controlled, completely at her whim. Lying over her knees like a naughty child while she gives you what you deserve, not stopping until she's satisfied."

Roger had to admit to himself, he had wondered what it would be like to be on the receiving end. Many a time he'd spanked a woman he'd visualised himself on the receiving end, himself vulnerable, himself out of control. Normally, he'd pushed these thoughts out of his mind. He was a man. He was raised, conditioned, to be in control.

"Yes, I have, but - "

"Do you think it unmanly?", Denise interrupted. "Let me tell you, I think you're all man, and that's the appeal for me. I like to spank strong men. They make better lovers...." She moved her thigh against his erection, as if to confirm his masculinity.

Denise pulled herself away, walking saucily towards the bed. She sat facing Roger, hitching up her short skirt in the process, revealing an expanse of smooth skin. With a single raised finger, she beckoned Roger to approach. Roger stumbled forward, almost trance-like, then paused, his doubts wining out over his arousal.

Denise smiled innocently, reassuringly. "Who am I going to tell? Here's your chance to lie over the thighs of a James Bond girl. It might not be your fantasy exactly, but it is a fantasy." She spoke in a voice that promised erotic adventure.

Still Roger hesitated. His cock screamed at him to do whatever this goddess wanted. His brain stared at the hairbrush. Roger's mouth was dry, his cock rock hard, but his feet refused to move.

Denise stood, looked at Roger, then fumbled with the button on her skirt. With a deft movement, she dropped the skirt to her ankles, revealing simple high cut black panties. She stepped out of her skirt, revealing her gorgeous bottom cheeks to Roger's bulging eyes, allowing his eyes to linger. Then she sat again, her entire thighs exposed. She tapped the brush on her thighs.

"Now, be a good boy and come here right now. I assume you know the position," Denise said in a firmer tone.

Roger shuffled over to Denise, his heart pounding. Normally a bona fide top, Roger looked the picture of submission as he stood next the Denise's right knee. Denise scowled at Roger, pursing her lips as she undid and lowered his trousers.

"You're going to be a very sorry young man for not obeying me straight away. I hope you're satisfied at the trouble you've caused," Denise said in a strict tone. She could have been anybodies loving wife, firm girlfriend or caring older sister now, upset and ready to dish out correction.

Denise ripped down Roger's jocks, exposing his bouncing erection. She smiled, then used his stiff appendage to pull him over her knee, knowing that no man would struggle against such a grip. The risks were too high.

Denise adjusted Roger on her lap. He seemed comfortable enough, especially with his hard penis trapped beneath her toned thighs. She leaned forward, and whispered into his ear, "It will be everything you've imagined it to be, and more. Trust me."

Roger sighed, a contented noise. Despite his reluctance, it felt rather nice lying in this position - relaxing. He felt her hand rest on his bare bottom, and was glad that she hadn't decided to start with the brush.

Denise ran her long fingers over his muscular bottom, feeling and savouring his strength. She could spend all year in the gym and still not have a butt this tight, she thought. She was patient. He was not going anywhere now. She cupped, she squeezed, she massaged, she even pinched lightly. Then she repeated the process. How wonderful it was to be able to explore a man's bottom like this. Leisurely, erotic, timeless.

Just as appealing were Roger's reactions to her teasing, as he tried to thrust his penis between her thighs, groaning with frustration. She allowed him a little movement; it was only fair that he had his fun too. Finally the growing heat in her loins told her it was time to spank. She would enjoy squeezing his bottom again later, after it had been thoroughly chastised.

Denise lifted her hand and brought it down sharply. She always liked the first spank to be a bit of a shock. Then she settled into a regular pattern, striking each cheek firmly in turn. This was only a warming, a gentle introduction before the brush. Denise knew her hands were too delicate to impart much sting, though she loved to start spankings with her hand. Nothing beats the echoing sound of a palm repeatedly striking bare skin.

Roger melted into Denise's lap. Though her hand burned, it also felt nice. His penis rubbed against her thighs as his bottom bounced roughly in time to her hand. This isn't so bad, he thought, despite the sting slowly rising as Denise continued her methodical work.

Denise decided to up the ante. She reached back behind her and picked up the oak brush. It was old and heavy, a gift from her late grandmother. It was difficult to find a brush like it these days. Denise loved her hairbrush. Not only was it ideal for taming her long locks, but it packed a powerful punch on a male's bottom. This brush was her weapon, the way her slim arm could deliver unbelievable sting with just a flick of her wrist.

Denise raised her weapon, not too high, she didn't want to bruise. She flicked it down, snapping her wrist just before the point of impact. The naughty boy on her lap howled. It was an art, and she had so much canvas left to paint.

She stepped into a steady rhythm, punishing her bad boy, never needing a reason. She continued to spank, quicker, a bit harder, almost as if in response to her own quickening of breath. Her own gratification was the reason she spanked. She loved Roger's cries, loved him squirming against her. Her left hand reached out, pulling Roger closer tightly. There would be no escape.

Roger was going though a revelation of his own. How could such a petite woman spank so hard, he wondered. Did he spank as hard? How did the women he spanked take it? Yet, as he bucked on Denise's lovely thighs, desperate to avoid the brush, he consciously rubbed himself against her, the stimulation taking the focus off his burning bottom. His tormentor pulled him closer to her, the erotic feel of her soft breasts only adding to his confusion.

Denise dimly heard Roger begin to plead though a veil of lust. This man, so strong, so muscular, lying over her thighs like a naughty schoolboy, powerless against her brush. The brush that untangled her long flowing hair, the brush that scorched.

Would he cry she wondered, the thought sending a new bolt of pleasure to her loins. She loved to hear a man she spanked cry, an almost sadistic streak that didn't extend outside of the bedroom. Later, she would let him reclaim his manhood, ravish her on the bed while she gleefully gripped his burning bottom. But for now, she needed to hear genuine remorse. Roger's upper thighs beckoned.

Roger bucked and struggled, desperate to get off her lap before he embarrassed himself. He had felt the wetness in his eyes growing for about a minute. He would have been able to hold out, but no, she just had to be so damn determined. He pleaded one last time.

"Please Denise, I've had enough. Stop, please," Roger begged, desperate to get Denise to stop before he embarrassed himself.

"Not until I hear you crying naughty boy," Denise replied, stepping up the speed of the spanking.

Roger paled. She knew. She wasn't going to stop. The brush kept burning. He bucked with pain, his eyes overflowing. It seemed helpless. It was.

Denise was about to stop. She didn't want to do any real damage besides a smarting bottom, and it didn't look like he was going to cry. Too tough, too manly, she though with disappointment. Then, as she applied a final few touches to Roger's bright red bottom, she heard it. Sobbing. Crying.

With a dozen wicked strokes from the heavy brush she completed the transformation from strong young man to bawling schoolboy, crying over a stern woman's lap. Roger sobbed openly, broken and tearful.

What a rush, Denise thought. She squeezed her legs together, milking both her groin muscles and Roger's still hard penis. She felt a tingling vibration in her loins, then, as Roger let loose a particularly loud sob, she came. It was a small though sharp orgasm, completely unexpected. She dropped the brush and groaned in pleasure. Dimly, she was aware of Roger spirting powerfully between her quivering thighs.

Denise held Roger tightly. She knew he'd be a little embarrassed and wanted to reassure him that everything was okay, more than okay.

"You okay," she whispered.

"Yeah," he replied. "Thank you."

"That's okay. It was incredible for me too," she said.

Denise looked at the clock near the television. Plenty of time. "You know, I have two condoms in my handbag. I hope you're up to it."

Roger felt his erection returning. He pushed slightly against her, triggering a wicked giggle. Now it was his turn to be in control.

[
One part to go - all will be revealed this time, I promise :-) I wanted to get a FM scene in and I kept thinking of an old story about being careful what you wished for.... Also, being a switch I often have this feeling of not knowing whether I want to spank or be spanked by famous women, especially spankable ones like Julia Roberts, Denise Richards, Martina Hingis..... ]

(c) Copyright 2001 [email protected] May be freely distributed provided no fees are charged for access to this story and the copyright message is not removed.