K.C. Perrin Spanking Erotica

It was a hot day in the middle of summer in a small village in the south of France.
There was something special about this village, three months ago, it had not yet existed and this area was just rolling hills of fields and pastures.
The village was built around an old castle on top of the largest hill. All houses and huts were built with wood and clay and roofs of thatch, to resemble the building styles of the fifteenth en sixteenth centuries.
All homes were inhabited, not permanently, but by actors, who dressed and acted like people who lived in that time period.
The straw-covered pathways and cobbled streets were packed with tourists, watching and interacting with the actors. There were many children as well, learning of their country’s history.
There were activities, like learning how to weave a basket or working with leather. These had long rows of waiting participants.
Other activities were just to be watched, like the blacksmiths working by the heat of a furnace, and the washerwomen bending over their tubs, cleaning the linen that had to be carried back up to the castle before nightfall.

Michael was one of the men working at the smithy. He was a big man, with broad shoulders and strong hands from wielding a hammer all day.
He wore linen trousers, secured around his waist with a rope and a white linen shirt, plastered in sweat against his skin, outlining the muscles of his chest and abs.
You might expect most tourists in this area to be men, interested in this historically very manly profession. But in fact, it was mostly women outside the smithy, gathered behind the rope that kept the tourists a safe distance from swung hammers and hot furnaces.
Michael heard their whispers and giggles in between the ringing of metal when he brought his hammer down. Some of the bolder ones whistled or even suggested he took off his shirt if he was too hot.
At first the attention had flattered him, but it had quickly started to bore and even annoy him. He wasn’t just some piece of meat to be ogled. If the roles were reversed and a bunch of men were making such crude remarks at a female actress, it would not be tolerated, he was sure.
Sometime after noon, a small group of young women gathered at the smithy. From their conversation Michael gathered they’d left their kids with their husbands at some children’s activity.
From their giggling, he knew they were gathering their courage to call out to him, just like the others before them. He wondered what they’d come up with and doubted it would be original.
“Hey blacksmith. Don’t you want something softer to hit? It must be tiring to hit that hard, unyielding metal all day.” One of them finally called to him.
Michael grinned and turned around. He was allowed to interact with the tourists as long as he stayed in character. He just usually chose not to. “Like what?” He asked.
The women giggled and all but one turned away from him.
“This.” The young woman still facing him said, spanking the backside of her friend who was hiding her face. She squealed a laugh.
Michael rolled his eyes. “I don’t think any of you would be able to take it from me.” He said and turned back to his anvil.
The women laughed and called out more, trying to get his attention again. Michael ignored them and focused on his work. He did listen to their conversation however, their blushingly shared fantasies of a strong man bending them over his anvil, turning their bottoms red like the hot metal he worked with.
The women seemed to think they had embarrassed him as he ignored him, all Michael thought about however was his own girl, Sophie, who had spent many times bent across his knee. Those thoughts helped him through the rest of the day as more woman came by, asking him to take off his shirt or flexing his muscles.