Spanking The Spy Girl
The Spank Statement continues to earn its reputation as the best place in the spanking blogosphere for detailed and well-documented excerpts of spanking material from popular culture. Here’s part of a much longer excerpt from a Nick Carter spy novel, in which Our Hero takes a gun away from a hostile female intruder before spanking her:
Nick jerked the glass forward with he suddenness of a striking snake and flung himself sideways out to of his chair. Cold rum and even colder ice cubes slapped against her face and splashed down the front of her low-cut gown. She made a sound like a police siren and leaped to her feet, waving the little gun wildly and wiping her pretty, creamy-tanned neck with an agitated hand. He caught her gun arm and twisted it upward in one swift, relentless thrust. The little gun dropped to the floor and he kicked it away.
“Now,” he said menacingly, “we’ll do the talking my way.”
Her scream turned into a little yelp of alarm as he pinned her hands in one of his and dragged her back to the chair. He seated himself comfortably and pulled her down on top of him, her firm breasts nuzzling into his knee and her shapely derriere clamped beneath the palm of his right hand. His legs scissored around hers.
“Leggo of me, you bastard!”
“Watch your language, he reproved her. I warned you what was going to happen, and you went right ahead and made it worse. I’m going to ask you a few questions. Miss O’Reilly, baby, and you’re going to answer me – or else.” His hand rose quickly and descended on the small behind. There was a satisfying sound, and his hand stung.
“First. When did you start following me, and why?”
“Following you?” she squealed. “I haven’t been doing anything of the sort! I told you, it was only after the man called you Straven that I even noticed you.”
“Oh, come on, now.” A series of slapping sounds, and a yelp. “You bumped into me three times and you didn’t notice me? You’ll have to do better than that. What were you trying to do, scrape acquaintance or lift my wallet?”
The blonde head turned and the sky-blue eyes blinked at him resentfully. “Neither!” Those were accidents. You can hit me all you like you sonofabitch, but they were accidents. I told you I was sorry, didn’t I? Goddamn! No indeed, I didn’t want you or your miserable wallet. It was just my bad luck I kept on running into you.”
Nick stared into the blue eyes reflectively. There was something oddly convincing about her indignation. She gave a convulsive little wiggle and he slapped her down almost casually. So maybe she hadn’t been following him.
“All right, let’s try the next question. You think I’m not Straven. Why don’t you go to the police, is it because you think you can blackmail me?”
“I won’t answer your questions in this position! Put me down and I’ll talk to you, damn you!”
Nick thought it over. This was quite enjoyable, in a way, but it wasn’t getting him any where.
“If that’s a promise – okay. but first, here’s a little something for lying your way into my rooms and waving a gun at me.” His hand came down hard, several times. Her outraged squeals were music to his ears. She was the least likely and most inefficient spy he had ever met; a Mata Hari with a sore behind.
“Ten…eleven…twelve,” he finished, and stood up abruptly. She thudded to the floor and scrambled angrily to her feet.
She rubbed her bottom soothingly.
