Whipped Raw

Based on a true story. - "A spanking saga like no other."
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Bristol and Foster both worked in professional fields of criminal activity, but they were on opposite sides of the law. Her job as a criminal defense attorney had permitted her to carry on with a secret flurry of obscene trysts she thought no one would ever discover. Never did she suspect that his tenacity as a forensic psychologist would reveal her illicit affairs much less that his obsessive love of discipline would provoke him to whip her naughty haunches for every one of her disobedient deeds.

She really didn’t want her clandestine escapades to ever end. It wasn’t the riskiness of it all, nor the possibility that her own imprudence might instigate real violence or jeopardize her career as an attorney that gave her pause though. The erotic labyrinths she slithered through made her thoughts rush even more fiercely than they did her blood. It was that she feared she was paying too high a cost with the little time she had outside of work and, more importantly, within the inevitable end of all things. She never imagined meeting someone like Foster who would upend the secrecy of it all in ways she could barely fathom.

Yet, after he had left the military he was quite content to maintain the sort of life he had been living for years. It wasn’t that he was avoiding getting involved in a serious relationship. He genuinely wanted something more but not with anyone who he had met up to that point. Instead, he found fetishes in everything and everyone as there was no woman who seemed like his true type. The female gender in all its inexhaustible sights and flavors and personalities was his type. His love of corporal contact – his incessant inclination to spank – had always been the strongest fetish in him. It came natural to him to meet any female and probe her longing for physical discipline. It was a vital piece of her full personality to him, and sometimes the only thing that mattered.

When he first met Bristol it was like stumbling upon a Hopper painting playing out in the flesh and blood reality of a summer’s day. She was the very epitome of a kind of fabled Midwestern sweetness – sky blue eyes, radiant auburn hair pulled back tightly in a metallic barrette and a thin girlish figure accentuated by perky little breasts. He imagined that she didn't have a single thought of deviance in her. Never had he been so wrong in his whole life.