It wasn't as though it was planned. The hot water heater was leaking and needed replacement; someone had to take the morning off to let the plumber in and make sure the job was finished all right, and Ginny's schedule was looser than Dan's that week; she had plenty of work she could attack at home on the computer, logged into her office account. She used having to work at home that day as an excuse to sleep a little later, drink a more leisurely cup of coffee, and read a chapter or two in her current novel - a thriller with some hotly-written scenes that she allowed herself to imagine vividly, casting herself in the erotic lead. She'd finished her coffee lost in the fast moving story, hair still shower-damp and clad in just her panties, lying across her bed. She'd made the bed after Dan left, not that it was very disturbed or had been for months - although their marriage was a solid partnership, their sex life had cooled to an almost routine occasional, if affectionate, routine. Dan was sweet, smart and good looking, but sometimes...there was something she missed, some heat or...oh well, she'd better get to work, after one more chapter.

The doorbell rang and Gina realized that she'd jumped involuntarily. It must be the plumber and she was still lying over the bed in just her panties, embarrassed a bit to realize her involvement in the novel's steamy scene had left her sticky and a bit aroused. Being a "bad girl" again - Ginny almost smiled, remembering her stormy adolescence and the many times she'd been punished for her all-too-lively interest in boys and sex. The smile faded as she remembered with vivid intensity the details of those punishments: first just warnings and scoldings, followed by groundings and threats of a thorough spanking. Ginny had been defiant and indignant so, when inevitably caught with forbidden magazines and novels, and later in compromising situations with neighborhood boys and schoolmates, her dad decided that token spankings weren't getting the point across. She squirmed a little on the bed, remembering the night he came to her room and took his belt off. Without a word, he gestured her over to where he sat on the side of her bed, incongruously masculine on the pink dotted swiss comforter. When she approached, he swept her over his knees in one firm gesture and, ignoring her gasp of shock, proceeded to smack her pantie'd bottom for 20 minutes. Sobbing with anger and pain, Ginny jumped up when released and screamed at her dad indignantly: "I hate you! You can't DO that to me!" Almost sadly, her father had grasped her arm, pulling her back over her lap and jerked her panties down to her ankles. For the next 10 minutes he had taught her what a real bare-bottomed strapping was like...it hurt like no spanking she'd ever had in her life and she could still feel the searing pain. She couldn't sit without without wincing for a week, but the next Saturday night she lost her virginity in Greg's car. Poor Greg probably never realized that his ardor had done less to open her legs to him than the residual heat in her whipped behind!

Tool Belt (Part II)

Ginny jumped up and threw on a pair of denim shorts and a red T-shirt; barefooted she ran down to let in the plumber. She glanced quickly in the hall mirror to finger-comb her drying hair into place - no use, without a blow-dry her hair would arrange itself into wild chestnut tangles. A glance said looking conservatively coiffed was out of the question. Her face was a bit flushed from the shower, the quick dressing and, admittedly the "hot" scene she'd been mentally enacting in her book.

She opened the door to a tall, well-built man in chino pants and a faded blue plaid shirt, who wasn't her mental picture of a plumber at all. Short brown hair, a bit shaggy, shot with grey, eyes that met hers directly, gold-glinted brown, intelligent and...a little too direct. They were observant as well, taking her in fully at a glance, amused and appreciative. Ginny tried to ignore a stirring between her legs that startled her with its intensity. He wasn't staring, but neverthless giving her heightened sensation in intimate parts. She felt her buttocks contract and her nipples felt tight against her T-shirt. A sudden pulse quickened her clitoris and she felt flustered, knowing she probably looked it. Same old Ginny - let the gonads come out to play and she'd get in trouble every time! She began to be annoyed by his somewhat knowing manner; after all he was simply the plumber! "Hi, come on in," she said, then , "You'd be Ken Griffith?" "Right," he grinned, deliberately overdoing a gesture at the toolbox he was carrying. "Well, the utility room's downstairs...if you need anything, let me know. I'll be working in the den. Would you like a cup of coffee? There's some fresh...." Ginny wondered if the familiarity was a mistake. There was an dangerous ironic glint to this man's eyes that made her feel a little vulnerable, and more than a little nervous.

"Sure, that'd be nice." There was nothing of a tradesman's deference about the man. He accepted a cup of coffee, taking it black, thanking her with a grin that was too close to a wink. Ginny turned, showed him to the utility room, turned on the light, and went up to the den; booted up the computer and tried to get lost in the work she'd brought home. She was having trouble concentrating. She was feeling stirrings that had been missing for some time in bed with Dan. Oh, sex had been pleasant, when they had time for it at at, but neatly programmed like the rest of their lives. Ginny imagined that there'd be nothing "routine" about an encounter with the man working in the utility room. There was a quality in his candid appraisal of her that made something deep in her - well, melt. Ginny decided to see if the coffee needed a refill. She walked back downstairs and found Ken Griffith taking a break, finishing his coffee. He was perched on the utility room step-stool and looked at her over the coffee mug rim. "Would you like some more?" Ginny asked. "Sure," he answered, his voice edged with irony, "You like some too, wouldn't you!?" Ginny felt her face flush at the double-edged remark. "I've had some," she decided to play it straight, wishing she wasn't wearing the snug denim shorts, wishing they didn't press against her butt and vulva, wishing... "I kind of doubt that," he said, getting up and putting the coffee cup on the window-sill. "But you're just about to get it...good."

Continued in Part III

"C'mon, don't look so surprised," Ken Griffith grinned wryly and held his hands out in a gesture of mock innocence. "I wouldn't have said anything, but you can't pretend you're not feeling what I am. You're not the demure little housefrau you're trying so hard to imitate. You want to know what I think?" Ginny stuttered a bit and only managed to start, " I don't care wh- wha..." But he had her by the wrist, his strong hand encircling it with room to spare. He drew her very close and with mock severity, frowned fiercly. "I think you're a little vixen with a hot cunt who's aching to be fucked. And what you NEED is a good, hard spanking. And you've just met the man who's going to give it to you. And when I'm done, you're going to beg me to fuck you...and when I've done both, you're going to beg for more! You believe that?" Ginny's eyes were wide - she simply shook her head, unable to reply. This COULDN'T be happening. What would Dan say - do? But her body was betraying her. Her wrist felt tiny and weak in his grasp and, as she recovered her wits and will, and tried to twist away, he simply reached out with his left hand and grasped her hard, between the legs. Ginny gasped out loud and tried to fold into a crouch. "Oh! Stop!" "Well, what's this!" laughed Griffith, withdrawing his hand mockingly...these shorts are a little moist. I guess we'd best get rid of them!" "NO!" yelled Ginny, "You can't do this! I'll scream...I'll report you!" "That's a deal," he murmured. "You do that...but first...!"

He released Ginny's wrist but encircled her facing away from him, his arm just under her breasts, pulling up the red cotton T- shirt. Despite her struggles, he was stripping the denim shorts down her hips and they were dragging her panties down with them. He was tall enough that, when he lifted up under her bare breasts, Ginny's feet swung free of the floor, kicking ineffectively. The shorts and panties slide off and Griffith strode out of the utility room into the family room, hauling Ginny like a sack of grain over to the leather sofa by the fireplace. He seated himself on the luxurious leather cushions and stood Ginny up in front of him. "Now we'll play my game," he said, "You've been playing yours since I got here! Turn around." The last was a sharp order. Anger gave Ginny back her tongue. "Go to hell," she shouted. It lacked conviction, coming as it did from a blushing female in nothing but a red T-shirt. Ginny's cheeks flamed, realizing suddenly how bare she was in front of this man. "Aw," he grinned, reaching out for her wrist again, "Now I have to make you apologize for that!" The next instant, Ginny found herself over his knee. Suddenly, with a horrified sense of deja vu, Ginny felt like she was 13 again, in just such a bare, compromised position, and about to be punished for yet another breach of family mores. "Nooo!" She yelled, struggling hard but powerless under the easy strength of his restraining hand. Ken Griffith's free hand explored the rounded bare curves of Ginny's bare butt, his forefinger tracing the sensitive "Y". "Now..." he announced, "Guess who's going to have the reddist little behind in town?" He moved his hand from her bare bottom to his beltline. Ken took off his belt and doubled it. Ginny flinched visibly as he made the strap sing through the air, testing his grip on the arm of the leather couch. It made a terrifying "crack" on the leather and Ginny's ass contracted. "NoNoNoNo," wailed Ginny. "You can't, you can't!" "Just watch me," said Ken, and raised the strap.

Continued in Part IV [PART 4 MISSING