"What's your favorite part of a spanking?"

The question startled Keith by both its bluntness and timing. It certainly was an odd thing to be asked while laying naked and upended across a lap. Or perhaps not. At least not with Rosa. Her comfort and confidence with who she was and what she liked made even the notion of adult spanking seem wholesome and natural. Even still, to a lifelong spanking addict, the reduction of the countless pleasures to a single favorite posed a difficult choice.

"I'm not sure, Dear." Keith answered  honestly. "It's a blend of things. I mean there's a real excitement to just knowing I'm going to get one..........and I get to think about  it for hours or days beforehand, knowing it's coming. Then there's even an appeal to this part right now, where I'm over your lap all naked and unprotected and waiting for it. Wondering what it will be like this time. Knowing that very soon I won't have to wonder and all of my anticipatory musings will be moot. Even afterwards I get a kick out of feeling and seeing the aftermath and remembering how my bottom got that way."

"I like the things you mentioned also. Only for me the pleasure comes from keeping you guessing beforehand and then teasing you about your red bottom later. So I understand there's a blend, but there still has to be a favorite." Rosa probed.

Keith recalled a comment Rosa had made to him about a week earlier. She remarked that she loved when after the endorphins rendered him almost drunk with submissive bliss, he'd shamelessly raise his bottom up for more while moaning and becoming more wanton and crazed with each wallop. However, he resisted admitting this stage as a favorite feeling the admission to be as obvious as revealing that the best part of sex was the orgasm. Such plebian transparency undermined his pride in being more complicated than that. But truth is truth and there's something about being 'over the knee' that prompts honesty.

"Well, I suppose that blissed-out part where I could just stay over your lap forever and greedily take smack after smack is pretty cool." he admitted in the tone of an underplayed afterthought.

Rosa smirked at the acting. "Uh, huh, that part doesn't suck too much." she teased, mocking his false nonchalance in so exaggerated a manner as to elicit a chuckle from her all too vulnerable victim. 

"OK, OK, " he admitted goodnaturedly, "I suppose we both enjoy that part the most."

Rosa said nothing. She just eyed the delectable twin yet uncooked............resting across her thighs as if she had just been served an appetizing breakfast in bed. The fresh meat laid there placidly while ogled. Keith's bottom appealed to her. It was small and pale and cute and though naturally fuzzy, he kept it completely hairless from rounded buttock to the crinkled hole in its divide. The effect was amusingly contradictory: a boy's bottom on a man's body. But Rosa thought the disparity appropriate. It split the age at which a boy might expect to still be spanked with Keith's actual age rendering a median age that oddly coincided with her own. Serendipitous mathematics that rationalized why she found it so satisfying to spank someone who was already driving before she was born.

In no hurry to begin, Rosa touched the right buttock watching the doughy peach-white flesh depress under her fingers and thought of how her paddle would soon disrupt that serene surface. This was the calm before the storm. Each buttock was a cool gentle swell on a peaceful sea, but she was a storm goddess and had the power to upset that tranquility. When she struck with her paddle, the shock of lightning and the clap of thunder would cause waves to reverberate across the once languid surface. Again and again the lightning would strike and the thunder would boom. The once calm sea would then churn with clenching and kicking until the storm peaked and only after a magnificent crescendo then settle into a steady and welcome downpour. Then her brush would fall in a regular patter, still rippling the surface but without all the bluster and fury. The suffering and damage caused by the strikes of lightning are the price the Earth pays for the nurturing rain, just as Keith must suffer the initial harsh fury of her paddle before he can enjoy the bliss that comes later.

Rosa began to wonder if she truly enjoyed the nurturing rain more than the excitement of the storm. If she did, why did she make those first spanks hurt so much? There can be rain without lightning. She could start with a drizzle and work her way gradually to the rain. She could warm up Keith's buns slowly and steadily build up to the release of those lovely endorphins he craved. But there was something about the storm that pleased her more. The genuine thrashing and the honest yelps amused her, so much more fun than pretend  'eeks' and 'ouches'.  

She eyed the waiting bottom once again, surveying the calm, craving the thrill and chaos of the tempest she as storm goddess had the power to turn loose. No. There would be no misty warm-up today. She'd make those lazy mounds jiggle and hop working one cheek alone until the kicking was frenzied and only then turn her attention to the other with equal cruelty. Yes, it would hurt more this way but a spanking should hurt. Besides, how great can the payoff be if getting to it is easy? Anything really good is worth suffering for and enduring her storm was the price Keith must pay to get to the part he loved. Perhaps the degree of suffering enhances the reward? Rosa thought about that. 

She loved Keith. He was good to her and good for her. He certainly deserved the best reward possible so she decided that she had no alternative but to really make him suffer for it...................and besides, storms can be so much fun, and raising these tempests are what storm goddesses do.