Bridget drinks and drives (M/F Spanking Fiction)

Bridget drinks and drives

The car door closed weakly and the uneven sounds of a woman’s high heel shoe sounded across the flagstone walk. The steps came unevenly and with varied degrees of force against the stones. A double clomp sounded in the night as the woman stumbled on a step near the front door. Catching herself against the wrought iron rail, she steadied herself slowly and stepped up onto the landing in front of the door.

A key scraped against the wood trying to find the metal of the lock. Finding the outer rim of the lock, the key again began scraping with a metallic sound as the woman tried to locate the keyhole. Slowly she managed to insert the key into the elusive hole and then she turned it. Nothing happened. She tried three more times without result and then she giggled to herself. “Goes the other way,” she muttered to herself.

She turned the key in the opposite direction and the tumblers clicked releasing the lock. The door swung inward with such force that the woman began falling forward. She braced her left hand against the doorframe and her tight grip on the doorknob stopped the momentum of the inward swinging door. Bent at an odd angle, she managed to prevent a fall. “Woo!” she squealed in a high-pitched tone.

She slowly stumbled into the house and flopped down in an easy chair. She giggled at nothing in particular then let her tired eyes droop for a minute.

When her eyes opened again, Bridget found bright sunlight streaming into her face from the living room window. She jumped off the chair and stood stock still placing both hands on the sides of her head. “Dear God,” she mumbled. She quickly kicked off her shoes from the previous night and made a dash to the bathroom. Her need to relive her bladder was at fever pitch and she barely made the toilet.

When her bladder had finally been purged, Bridget sat on the toilet staring with bleary eyes at the dark walls. She had not dared to turn on the lights when she had entered the room. Taking a deep breath, she glanced down at her wristwatch. “Oh my God,” she mumbled. “Almost noon and the day’s shot.”

Slowly she rose off of the toilet. After washing her hands she opened the sliding mirror above the sink and peered into the medicine cabinet. She found the Tylenol and Alka-Seltzer and quickly went to work with a Dixie cup to prepare some relief for her throbbing skull.

After loading up on her home remedies, Bridget sat heavily on the upper rim of the bathtub. She brought both hands up to her face and her fingers quickly pushed up into her jet back hair. After several minutes, the cold top of the bath began to dig into her bottom and the lack of back support made her even more uncomfortable. She rose and looked at herself in the mirror. Her skin had an ashen look to it and her light green eyes were an odd sight as the bloodshot veins coursing through the whites of her eyes offset them.
Bridget walked heavily from the bathroom and made a beeline for the couch. Along the way she unfastened her dress and let it slide carelessly to the ground. As the garment slipped from her lower legs, Bridget’s feet became caught in the folds of the fabric. She fell to the floor and narrowly missed hitting her head on the coffee table. Her heart thumping she took solace in the fact that her head had not struck the table and also that her fall had been a soft one and had left no injuries. A moment later, she climbed up onto the sofa. Propping a pillow under her head, she curled into a ball and gave a groan.

She had not been on the sofa for very long when the front door opened. Steven walked in and looked at Bridget with hard eyes. “Guess you feel like shit, huh?”

”Not now, Steven!” Bridget snapped back at him. “I’m not in the mood.”

”Yeah, neither am I. I had to chase three raccoons out of here this morning.”

”Huh?”

”You left the front door wide open and when I came down there were three raccoons sniffing around the closet.”

”Oh shit!”

”Yeah, ‘Oh shit!’ I had to clean that up too!”

“I’m sorry,” she said meekly.

”Yeah, well, I don’t suppose you’d want to put on some clothes and go move your car, would you?”

”May car?” Bridget sounded genuinely confused.

”Yeah, you know, that silver colored thing you left parked sideways at the top of the driveway.”

”Sideways? Didn’t that block you in?”

”Why, yes, it did! Know how I got out this morning?”

”Uh…no…”

”Why, I took the Jeep up onto the lawn and drove out off of the curb. Good thing it was built for that, huh?”

”I guess.” Bridget rolled slightly and closed her eyes.

”Move your car!” Steven bellowed.
”I will. In a minute!”

Steven grabbed her and tugged her off of the sofa. “Now!”

”Why don’t you move it?”

”Because I didn’t leave it sideways! You did!”

Cursing under her breath, Bridget stomped into the bedroom. She grabbed a pair of shorts and quickly slipped into them. She paid little attention to which T-shirt she pulled from her drawer and after slipping it on she stepped into some flip-flops. Grumbling and cursing Bridget went out to her car. Suddenly she remembered she forgot her keys. She went back into the house to look for her purse. But she couldn’t find it. “What the?”

”Looking for something?” Steven asked.

”My purse,” Bridget replied.

”I believe you left it in the car.”

”Then where the hell are my keys?” she whined.

”Right in the front door, where you left them! You didn’t see them even though you walked past them twice, huh?”

Bridget winced at the taunt. “Guess my head’s a little fuzzy,” she said sheepishly.

”Guess so.”

Steven’s demeanor for the rest of the day was distant. As the day wore on, his silent treatment made Bridget more and more uneasy. Something was brewing, but she could not sense what it was.

After dinner, and feeling much better than she had felt earlier in the day, Bridget casually asked Steven if everything was “all right.”

Steven glared at her. “What the hell were you thinking driving in that condition last night?”

”I was too drunk to think,” Bridget said promptly.

”So that makes it okay?”

”Well, I didn’t say that…”

An awkward silence followed. “I’m sorry,” Bridget muttered.

”Did the mother to be get that stinking and falling down drunk last night? For the baby’s sake I hope she didn’t.”

”I really don’t remember,” Bridget admitted.

”When the hell did a baby shower become an event where women sit around and get shitfaced?”

Bridget blushed. “I’m sorry,” she said again.

”You could have gotten yourself killed driving in that condition, Bridget! Or worse, you could have killed someone else.”

”I said I was sorry. What else do you want?” Bridget whined.

Steven snorted. “What would your father have done if he’d seen that?”

Bridget visibly paled at the question, which also sent a chill down her spine and caused every muscle in her body to clench. Swallowing hard, she said in barely more than a whisper, “You know what he would have done.” Her eyes nervously avoided his.

”I have a half a mind to invite him over here and tell him about it,” Steven grumbled.

Bridget threw her head back and her eyes betrayed the fact that she was fighting back tears. “Please don’t”

Steven muttered something incomprehensible and looked directly into his coffee mug. Another long silence followed. Neither Steven nor Bridget made any attempt at eye contact. Bridget sat quietly alternating between a grimace and biting her lower lip.

Steven?” she finally asked.

”What?” he replied in a voice that betrayed his level of annoyance.

”I’m really sorry for last night. I really acted stupid. Can we just let this go now?”

”You weren’t the one who was cleaning raccoon shit off the floor before breakfast. When I saw those raisins floating in my raisin bran after that I almost puked.”

Bridget bit her lower lip again as another silence fell over the room. After nearly five full minutes she looked at Steven. “Do it,” she said.

Steven turned his head to look back at Bridget. “Do what?”

Her face contorted into a grimace. “What my dad would have done.”

Steven put his coffee mug down on an end table. He turned his body so that he was facing Bridget. “Look at me.” He said to her.

Bridget slowly turned and looked in Steven’s direction. “Look AT me,” he said firmly. Slowly, Bridget’s eyes met his, her jaw quivering. “What would your father have done?” Steven growled at her.

”Don’t make me say it, Steven! You know what he would have done!”

Steven grunted and turned away. Bridget stared at him and gave a slight convulsion at his reaction. After another long silence, she finally blurted “He would have given me the strap, Steven!”

Slowly, Steven turned back to her. “Look me in the eyes and say that again,” he told her.

”No!” she screeched.

Again, Steven turned away. “Fine, Steven, fine.” Bridget stood up and walked in front of him. She squatted down at the knees and grabbed his shoulders. Steven looked into her green eyes. Inhaling deeply, Bridget said “My father would have taken the strap to me if he saw what happened last night.”

Never breaking his gaze, Steven responded, “And how does that impact me?”

Bridget started at the question. “You know…” she said in a low voice.

”Say it!” Steven barked.

Choking back a lump in her throat, Bridget said “Go ahead and strap me like my father would have done, Steven.”

Placing his hands around her torso, Steven rose to a standing position and gently guided her along with him. “Come on,” he said, “We’re going to the bedroom.”

Steven held Bridget by her arm as they walked to the bedroom. His grasp was not especially firm, and he certainly was not applying any force to lead her there. Bridget was in a nearly hypnotic daze as she followed him. Her knees were weak and her mind whirled. A voice in her head asked, “Is this really happening?” And another answered, “Yes, it is.” A third voce said only “Run,” yet a fourth calmly said “No, it will only be worse if you do.”

Once they arrived in the bedroom, Steven let go of Bridget. He walked over to the bed and propped three pillows on top of each other. After he finished, he turned to Bridget and said simply, “Strip.”

”Naked?” Bridget asked in disbelief.

”Naked,” Steven replied.

”Steven, we can do this on my bare bottom, I don’t really need to be naked. Do I?”

”Get every single stitch of clothing off of your body right now, young lady,” the words were growled out of the back of Steven’s throat. All of the blood drained from Bridget’s face as Steven’s words sunk in. Slowly, in mixture of embarrassment and nervousness, Bridget began removing all of her clothing. “Hurry up!” Steven barked as she timidly dragged out her undressing for every possible extra second she could muster.

Once she was fully nude, she turned to face Steven, her entire body trembling noticeably. Her mouth was as dry as cotton and her eyes were fighting back tears with very little success. “You want me on the bed?” she croaked.

”On the bed. Get your tummy on those pillows.” Bridget walked over to the bed. She climbed up on the mattress knees first, and slowly positioned herself over the pillows. She lowered herself down over them and then adjusted her body slightly so that she was exactly in position. She tried to swallow, but almost burst into a fit of coughing when she found her mouth and throat to be too dry. She looked back at Steven. Her eyes were already moist with tears and the look in her eyes was nothing short of pleading.

Steven reached down and began to unfasten his belt. As he pulled it through the loops of his pants, Bridget made one last effort to evade the strapping. In a high-pitched, wheedling tone of voice, she looked directly at Steven and said, “I am really, really sorry.”

”I believe you, but as a wise man once said ‘trust, but verify.’” Bridget squealed as Steven folded the belt over. He slapped it mightily against the open palm of his left hand three times. Bridget’s entire body tensed and convulsed with each of the swats.

Steven lowered the belt and the edge gently dangled against Bridget’s bottom. Even though a single swat had not been delivered, Bridget began to sob the moment the leather touched her exposed flesh. She dug her fingers into the edge of the mattress near the headboard and her feet pumped softly as she pushed her tense body forward instinctively. Steven pulled the belt back and with a whine; Bridget’s already tense body tensed up even more; a phenomenon Bridget would have thought utterly impossible.

Long moments passed and nothing happened. Slowly, Bridget’s body began to relax. Her grip on the mattress relaxed and her gently pumping legs fell still. Then, without warning the belt crashed into her backside. In an instant, her body had tensed again and she bucked her upper body forward as her legs pumped more furiously then they had previously. A light wailing sound escaped her lips and after a few moments, her body began to fall still again.

A second lick from the belt seared through Bridget’s bottom. She immediately began to sob as her upper body again bucked forward and her legs began to pump with renewed vigor.

”Want to tell me what you were thinking driving home in that condition last night?” Steven asked.

Through her sobs, Bridget replied, “I…I was…wasn’t thinking.”

”I guess not,” Steven said as he applied another stinging blast to her bottom.

Bridget squealed and flashed her hands back to cover her fiery rear end. Steven calmly took her wrists into his left hand and pressed them into her back. “I’m sorry,” she squeaked.

”Sorry, huh?” Steven retorted. “I would have been sorry if I was out buying you a coffin today. Guess you never stopped to think about that, did you?”

”No,” Bridget said meekly.

Another lick of the belt caught her firmly on the sit spot where the buttocks and thighs come together. Bridget howled as that ever so sensitive area erupted into a ball of fire. Her body contorted wildly under the blow, but Steven had little difficulty pulling her back into position over the pillows.

As Bridget’s body relaxed and her sobs began to recede in intensity, Steven began to speak again. “Do you remember a couple of years ago? When that little girl was decapitated by a drunk driver going the wrong way on the freeway?”

The question caused Bridget’s heart to skip a beat. “Yes,” she said.

”Remember how you almost cried whenever that little girl’s face was shown on the TV news?”

Bridget felt as if a stake had been thrust through her heart. “Yes,” she whined.

”How would you have felt if you came out of that blackout this morning to learn you’d killed a young child driving your car while you were falling down, stinking drunk last night?”

As the nightmarish vision of such an occurrence flashed through Bridget’s brain, she honestly wished that Steven had struck her a thousand more blows with the belt than to conjure up such a horrid scene. In answer to his questions, Bridget could only screech some unintelligible gibberish.

Barely had the sound of her voice died out when six licks with the belt rocked her body in rapid succession. All six blows fell again on the sensitive sit spot and they were the hardest and most vicious blows of all. Bridget’s face contorted and her mouth fell open as she let go with a sustained howl.

When her body again fell still and her howling had subsided to sobs, Steven spoke. “I think I can speak for almost every single person on this planet when I say it’s better your backside is being battered than another family be burying a child who died at the hands of a drunk driver. Are we agreed?”

In response, Bridget just sobbed some more. Steven gave her a short, crisp lick that caught part of her upper thigh. “Are we agreed?” he demanded again in a firm voice.

”Y..y…yes,” Bridget sobbed.

”Good. I’m glad we’re seeing eye to eye on this.” Another stiff lick of the belt crashed again on Bridget’s sit spot. She bucked forward under the blow and her crying reached a fever pitch.

”Why didn’t you call me to come get you?”

”I don’t know,” she sniffled.

”I would have come to get you and none of this would have happened, you know.”

”I know,” she sobbed. “I’ll never let this happen again, Steven. I swear I won’t.”

”I’m holding you to that.”

Without further ceremony, Steven let loose with a dozen more hard licks of his belt. At first Bridget’s body desperately attempted to dodge the blows, but Steven held her fast in place. By the eighth swat of the belt, Bridget’s body fell limply across the bed. There was no more fight left in her exhausted body. Nine of the twelve licks from the belt landed yet again on her sit spot. After the final blow landed, the redness in Bridget’s sit spot gave way to a whitish hue. For a moment, Steven saw what he though was a faint wisp of steam escape the newly whitened flesh on Bridget’s blistered bottom; or had it been his imagination?

Steven released his grasp on Bridget’s wrists, and with a labored effort, the sobbing woman reached back to try and rub the flames out of her scorched bottom. But the touch of her fingers to her own bottom just caused the flames to burn more fiercely. She pulled her hands away quickly and began to sob even more.

Several minutes passed before Bridget could turn to look at Steven. He was sitting on the bed next to her and she suddenly realized he was gently stroking her back.

As her sobs finally subsided, she looked at him and with true remorse in her voice, said only, “I am so sorry.”

Steven nodded silently to her, and then gently lifted the young woman into his arms. He cradled her gently and softly kissed her cheek. At long last, he spoke. “I love you far too much to lose you, or to see you throw your entire life away over something so stupid.”

“I know,” she whined. “I know. I’ll never do this again so long as I live, I swear.”

Steven dropped backwards onto the bed, still holding Bridget in his arms. She curled up against his body, and the couple just lay quietly together until sleep at last overtook them both.


***** The events and characters portrayed in this story are purely fictional. Any resemblance to any persons, living or dead, is strictly coincidental. Republication or retransmission of this work without the express written consent of the author, Rich “DaChief Flynn, is strictly prohibited. *****