Posts
There are a good number of spankos in Connecticut. The problem has always been getting us together. Here's the idea: we have some dinner/socials this summer in various parts of the state with the view of possibly organizing a group for more structured events. To that end, I'm going to arrange a dinner/social at Ruby Tuesdays at the Trumbull Shopping Park. This is right off of the Merritt Parkway so it is easy to locate. The date will be Saturday, June 19th at 7:00pm. Dress code will be casual, but please look presentable. This will be held in a family restaurant in a shopping mall, so please leave the leather gear at home. RSVP by June 14th so that adequate table space can be reserved in advance. Attendees should expect to pay their own tab. Contact me at ritchflynn2005 at yahoo dot com for RSVP.
Update 6/12: This event has been cancelled due to lack of response.
Monday, May 24, 2010
Sunday, May 23, 2010
Guidelines for safely meeting
Here is a guideline of practices for safely meeting others for anyone who wants it. These are just guidelines, not iron-clad rules. Some of the language in this may be dated, but the whole aim is to keep everything safe, sane and consensual so please read and comment.
1) Before meeting anyone, communication is critical. Make sure you want the same things. This kink has many flavors to it. Some are sexual spankos; some are disciplinary spankos. Some like role-play scenarios while others don’t. Some are seeking a dating relationship; some are just seeking a purely non-sexual disciplinary arrangement. Make certain you and the other person are seeking compatible things. Spend time getting to know the other person as best you can before arranging a meeting. Some people can put up a bold façade for short periods of time, but over the course of a couple of weeks, the façade can come apart. Back off if they become possessive, jealous, aggressive, telling other people you are a “couple” or start calling you at your job even though you never gave them the phone number. If the other person is local and is pressuring for a meeting TODAY or TOMORROW, back away. If there is real chemistry and a real basis for things to progress, it will still be there in two or three weeks.
2) Arrange to meet in a public place. Starbucks, a diner or an upscale bookstore with a coffee bar will do. Avoid places that serve alcohol for a first meeting. Alcohol consumption and meeting another spanko for the first time are an inadvisable combination. Make certain expectations are set that this is just “meet & greet” and no actual spanking action is promised. Be sure to provide your own transportation.
3) Arrange to have a “safe person” in the loop prior to meeting. A safe person can be anybody you know and trust. A family member, a vanilla friend, or even someone from one of these websites can be a safe person. The safe person will need to know who you will be meeting, where you will be meeting them and when you will be meeting them. The safe person should call 15 – 20 minutes after the meeting starts.
If the meeting is going well, some guarded words can be used to let the safe person know all is well. If the meeting isn’t going well, and you want out, the call from the safe person could be used as an excuse (“That was my [fill in this blank], there’s an emergency, I have to go”) for you to get out with as little hassle as possible.
Additional follow-up calls with the safe person can be arranged. How far you wish to go with it depends on you and what makes you feel safe.
If the safe person is someone local, he or she can even arrive at the site of the meeting 20 minutes early, just to be on hand. If the safe person is at the location of the meeting, and you want an out, just use a gesture like flicking the back of one ear with a finger (claim it’s a nervous habit if its questioned) and once this is seen, the safe person will call your cell phone and give you an excuse to leave. For having a safe person on premises, they will need to be within line of sight, but outside of earshot. And they will need to act casual and not stare directly at the two of you. Instead he or she should steal glances in your direction, so if the gesture isn’t seen the first, second or sixth time, just keep at it. Eventually the safe person will pick up on it.
Agree in advance with your safe person on how much time they should wait before calling the police if communication should break down entirely. Make certain your cell phone is fully charged in advanced and turned on.
4) Okay, the meeting went really well and you really want to go and do some spanking with this person. It’s usually best to meet 2 or 3 times prior to playing, but if you feel confident after the first meeting then that is your call. Remember that just because things went well at Starbucks, doesn’t mean everything will go well once you go somewhere with this person. Call your safe person and let him or her know what you’re doing and where you’re going and how long you expect to be. Excuse yourself to the bathroom if you need to. Arrange timeframes for any follow-up calls with your safe person. If everything goes well, the safe person will be called again when you’re through and on your way home.
If the safe person is there with you, you can call their cell phone from your own from the bathroom or your car.
5) Be watchful to make sure no “hidden cam” spanking vids appear on the internet against your wishes. Once those pictures and vids appear online, they never leave. Don’t let anyone pressure you into it or allow them an opportunity to do it without your knowledge and consent. If you are in your own home for the spanking play, ask the other person to leave their cell phone on the coffee table or something similar. If you go to their place, make sure both cell phones are left in a different room from where the spanking happens. Don’t play in the room where a computer or laptop is present. Many newer models have webcams built right in and could be running without your knowledge. Check the room carefully for video cameras and don’t play in a room that has one in evidence. Even if the camera shows as “off,” that means nothing. Someone who knows a little bit about electronics can rig the wires so that cameras appear to be off, even if they are not. Just keep your wits about you.
6) Use common sense and listen to your inner voice throughout this entire process. Never let anyone pressure you into anything. Keep everything safe, sane and consensual and don’t be afraid to back out if something isn’t going well. Most people are perfectly safe to meet with, and there have been many success stories over the years, but it’s best to protect yourself until you know the other person is sane and stable.
1) Before meeting anyone, communication is critical. Make sure you want the same things. This kink has many flavors to it. Some are sexual spankos; some are disciplinary spankos. Some like role-play scenarios while others don’t. Some are seeking a dating relationship; some are just seeking a purely non-sexual disciplinary arrangement. Make certain you and the other person are seeking compatible things. Spend time getting to know the other person as best you can before arranging a meeting. Some people can put up a bold façade for short periods of time, but over the course of a couple of weeks, the façade can come apart. Back off if they become possessive, jealous, aggressive, telling other people you are a “couple” or start calling you at your job even though you never gave them the phone number. If the other person is local and is pressuring for a meeting TODAY or TOMORROW, back away. If there is real chemistry and a real basis for things to progress, it will still be there in two or three weeks.
2) Arrange to meet in a public place. Starbucks, a diner or an upscale bookstore with a coffee bar will do. Avoid places that serve alcohol for a first meeting. Alcohol consumption and meeting another spanko for the first time are an inadvisable combination. Make certain expectations are set that this is just “meet & greet” and no actual spanking action is promised. Be sure to provide your own transportation.
3) Arrange to have a “safe person” in the loop prior to meeting. A safe person can be anybody you know and trust. A family member, a vanilla friend, or even someone from one of these websites can be a safe person. The safe person will need to know who you will be meeting, where you will be meeting them and when you will be meeting them. The safe person should call 15 – 20 minutes after the meeting starts.
If the meeting is going well, some guarded words can be used to let the safe person know all is well. If the meeting isn’t going well, and you want out, the call from the safe person could be used as an excuse (“That was my [fill in this blank], there’s an emergency, I have to go”) for you to get out with as little hassle as possible.
Additional follow-up calls with the safe person can be arranged. How far you wish to go with it depends on you and what makes you feel safe.
If the safe person is someone local, he or she can even arrive at the site of the meeting 20 minutes early, just to be on hand. If the safe person is at the location of the meeting, and you want an out, just use a gesture like flicking the back of one ear with a finger (claim it’s a nervous habit if its questioned) and once this is seen, the safe person will call your cell phone and give you an excuse to leave. For having a safe person on premises, they will need to be within line of sight, but outside of earshot. And they will need to act casual and not stare directly at the two of you. Instead he or she should steal glances in your direction, so if the gesture isn’t seen the first, second or sixth time, just keep at it. Eventually the safe person will pick up on it.
Agree in advance with your safe person on how much time they should wait before calling the police if communication should break down entirely. Make certain your cell phone is fully charged in advanced and turned on.
4) Okay, the meeting went really well and you really want to go and do some spanking with this person. It’s usually best to meet 2 or 3 times prior to playing, but if you feel confident after the first meeting then that is your call. Remember that just because things went well at Starbucks, doesn’t mean everything will go well once you go somewhere with this person. Call your safe person and let him or her know what you’re doing and where you’re going and how long you expect to be. Excuse yourself to the bathroom if you need to. Arrange timeframes for any follow-up calls with your safe person. If everything goes well, the safe person will be called again when you’re through and on your way home.
If the safe person is there with you, you can call their cell phone from your own from the bathroom or your car.
5) Be watchful to make sure no “hidden cam” spanking vids appear on the internet against your wishes. Once those pictures and vids appear online, they never leave. Don’t let anyone pressure you into it or allow them an opportunity to do it without your knowledge and consent. If you are in your own home for the spanking play, ask the other person to leave their cell phone on the coffee table or something similar. If you go to their place, make sure both cell phones are left in a different room from where the spanking happens. Don’t play in the room where a computer or laptop is present. Many newer models have webcams built right in and could be running without your knowledge. Check the room carefully for video cameras and don’t play in a room that has one in evidence. Even if the camera shows as “off,” that means nothing. Someone who knows a little bit about electronics can rig the wires so that cameras appear to be off, even if they are not. Just keep your wits about you.
6) Use common sense and listen to your inner voice throughout this entire process. Never let anyone pressure you into anything. Keep everything safe, sane and consensual and don’t be afraid to back out if something isn’t going well. Most people are perfectly safe to meet with, and there have been many success stories over the years, but it’s best to protect yourself until you know the other person is sane and stable.
Lets go Mets! (M/F Spanking fiction/humor)
Lets go Mets!
June is the time for inter-league baseball games. One of the most intense inter-league rivalries can be found in The Big Apple when the New York Yankees face off against the New York Mets.
”That pitch went right down the heart of the plate, and he just couldn’t get the bat around in time and that brings the count to 1 ball and 2 strikes with 2 out and a runner on first.”
Brad and Erin were watching the end of the opening game in the New York inter-league “subway series.” It had been a true pitcher’s duel throughout, but the Yankees were now leading the game by one run as the Mets took their final turn at bat in the 9th inning.
Erin was a petite woman with strawberry blonde hair and striking blue eyes. She was brushing back her long locks with her hairbrush. Having finished, she put her navy blue Yankees baseball cap back on her head. She turned and smiled at Brad, who was dressed in his favorite Mets t-shirt and matching Mets cap.
”The Mets really suck,” Erin said. “But that shouldn’t be a surprise to you. You should really ditch that Mets cap and get a shirt and hat that say ‘New York Losers.’ Twenty-Eight World Series titles in the Bronx, baby!” Erin hooted as she did a happy wiggle on the couch. “The last time the Mets won a World Series they only won because the Red Sox choked!” She was referring to the 1986 World Series.
Brad sat quietly, a scowl on his face. His arms were crossed and his hands were clenched into fists. Inwardly, he was praying to the God he worshiped that the Mets would give him reason to fire back with some verbal taunts. But Brad was a lifelong Mets fan; so deep down in his heart he knew it was unlikely that his team would give him any ammunition.
”That pitch came in high for ball two and the runner goes…The Yankees catcher holds onto the ball so that will be scored as defensive indifference.”
”Look at that! Those morons can’t even get a real stolen base. They have to settle for a defensive indifference call. More like ‘defensive sympathy.’” Erin laughed at her own joke and squirmed with delight on the couch.
The obnoxious Yankees fan he had somehow managed to fall in love with had been badgering him with these comments all day long. Brad was no longer able to contain himself. “Nah,” he said, “the Yankees were afraid that if their catcher botched the throw that runner could possibly score and tie the game. How many of those throws has that nitwit sent into center field this year? About 15, I think. That was really a ‘defensive anxiety’ call.”
”Ha, ha, ha,” Erin said with sarcasm. “The Mets will still lose, because that’s all that they know how to do. My team knows how to win!”
”The Yankees closer has been lights out in his last seven games,” the announcer on the TV continued, “He’s allowed no runs on only one hit and three walks; the third of those three walks is now standing at second base after that defensive indifference call.”
”Our closer knows how to close a game. Doesn’t your closer have more blown saves than actual saves?”
Brad just scowled at the remark.
”There’s the wind-up and there’s the pitch, a high velocity fastball on the inside part of the plate…that ball is well hit and going deep to left-center field…”
Erin jumped from the couch and began to do a happy dance in the living room. “And it’s caught!” she squealed with delight. “The Yankees win again,” she chanted in a sing-song voice. “The Mets suck; the Yankees rule, you suck and I rule,” she sang as she turned and pointed at Brad with arms extended and both index fingers out.
The announcer on the television continued. “He’s looking up and it’s outta here!” Erin’s face turned red and then purple as her features pinched into a look of disbelief. “The Mets take game one in the series with a two run walk off home run against the Yankees closer!”
The second television announcer took up the talk. “He had been almost perfect in his last seven outings, but even with the trouble the Mets have had scoring runs this year, no pitcher, I don’t care how good he is, can make a mistake on the inside of the plate to this hitter. If you do, you’ll get burned.”
”And he sure did get burned on that pitch. That was a gopher ball that he would really like to take back!” Erin turned to face the television as the announcers had been speaking. She stood with an open jaw watching the runners trot around the bases as replay footage of the home run was being replayed.
Brad shut the television off. He looked at Erin, standing in her Yankkes cap, navy blue Yankees t-shirt and her shorts that had the Yankees emblem emblazoned along the backside. A smile crossed his face. It was an evil, sadistic smile, but it was a smile. It had been a long time since the Mets had made him smile.
”That was nice,” Brad said.
”So they won a game. Even the Mets haven’t figured out how to lose 162 games in a season – Yet!” Erin snapped. “My Yankees are still in first place in the American League East.”
”You may want to rethink that,” a smiling Brad said, “The Yanks were only half a game up coming into this game. Since they lost, they’re now in a tie for first with…” Brad inhaled deeply, and then in a venomous voice he spat the words, “The Red Sox!”
Erin’s eyes flashed with hatred and rage at the mention of that baseball team. “Yeah, well…the Yanks can retake first easily enough! Especially now that Boston’s first baseman is on the disabled list! The Mets, they’re what, chasing the Washington Nationals for last place, or something?”
”Again, you need to rethink that,” Brad said. His evil and sadistic smile grew into a wicked and cruel grin. “With this win against the Yanks, the Mets are now a game behind the Phillies for first place. And if the Phillies lose to the Devil Rays tonight, and they may just lose that game, the Mets will be in a first place tie!”
Erin gave a sarcastic laugh that was devoid of any true mirth. “The Mets in first place,” she repeated. “Boy, that really does show what a weak division the National League East is! If the Mets could be anywhere near the top of the standings, then the whole division is a joke!”
Brad gave a content sigh and looked at Erin with the grin still on his face. “Come here, my sweet little dumpling,” he said.
”Um…no?” Erin replied.
Brad held his left hand up and waved his fingers back towards himself. “Come here, my darling,” he said.
”Nah, I don’t wanna,” Erin said.
Brad leaned forward in his seat. Crooking his right index finger and looking Erin directly in the eyes, he said again, “Come here, my sweet.”
Erin opened her mouth to reply, but Brad was up in a flash. He grabbed her by the wrist and yanked her back to the couch. Caught off balance, Erin slipped face first over Brad’s lap. “Brad! What are you doing?!?”
Brad did not reply. His grin grew wider as he looked at those nave blue shorts with the Yankees emblem across the backside. With a single jerk, he yanked them down to her thighs. Her panties had been caught in his grasp as well and they turned themselves inside out as the garments were pulled down her legs.
”Brad!” Erin screeched, “What the hell! Let go of me!”
”I’m so gonna enjoy this,” Brad said. A moment later, Brad’s right hand descended on Erin’s bottom with a resounding crack.
”OW!!” Erin kicked her legs as the sharp sting raced through her bottom. “Okay, Brad, you had your joke. Let me up!”
”Sure, I’ll let you up. After you tell me the Yankees suck!”
”NEVER!!!”
Another sharp stinging blow landed on Erin’s bottom. She let out a howl and tried to squirm away from Brad, but it was a useless effort. Brad was a head taller than the woman and a full 110 pounds heavier. She was trapped.
”The Mets spanked the Yanks, and now I get to spank a Yankees fan!” Brad laughed at and unleashed 8 more hard stinging swats on Erin’s bottom in rapid fire succession.
”OWWW!!! Damnit, Brad, LET ME UP!!!”
”Not until you say the Yankees suck.”
Pouting, and pounding her fists against the arm of the couch, Erin said in a near whisper, “the Yankees suck.”
”Oh, that was weak,” Brad said. He reached over to the coffee table and picked up the hairbrush Erin had been using earlier; a plastic handled brush with a rubber backing on the oval area that held the bristles. “I think you need more motivation!”
Brad raised the hairbrush and flicking his wrist like a pro, he snapped it off of Erin’s left buttock. The woman howled and bucked, but Brad held firm and quickly delivered an identical blow to her right buttock.
”I believe you were saying something before?” Brad asked casually, his smile not the least bit diminished.
”THE YANKEES SUCK!” Erin screamed. “I said it, now let me up!”
”No,” Brad said holding her firmly in place. “I think it’s time to lure you away from the Dark Side and make you walk the path of the Jedi!”
”What the fuck?” Erin said.
Without warning, Brad raised the brush. Taking careful aim at the tender spot where Erin’s bottom and thighs met, he let go with the rally cry of Mets fans. “LETS GO METS!” he chanted, emphasizing each word with a stinging swat of the brush on the very tender area of the sit spot.
Erin kicked her feet with a fury. He fists pounded into the couch and she howled under the blows. Brad paused to let her catch her breath. “Okay, you made your point. Now let me up. You’re hurting me!”
”I’ll let you up, sure thing,” Brad said in a callous manner, “But first I want to join in with me.”
”Huh?”
”I want to you to say ‘lets go Mets’ with me. Here goes! LETS GO METS!!!” Again Brad emphasized each word by spanking Erin’s sit spot with the brush. Erin did not join in the chant. Instead her body went stiff as a block of wood, her arms shot out at right angles and she screeched like a werewolf in a bad B grade horror movie. Her Yankees baseball cap flew off of her head and landed on the floor at a strange angle.
”No, that’s not what I wanted to hear,” Brad said as Erin’s body relaxed.
Crying, Erin looked back at Brad and said, “Brad, please, no more of this. You had your fun. Let me up!”
”Sure, I want to hear you say ‘lets go Mets’ first. Then I’ll let you up.”
”I can’t say that while you’re hitting me with a hairbrush!”
”Not my problem.” Brad’s voice held no mercy for the poor woman.
”Brad…please. I’m sorry I said all that stuff about the Mets, okay?”
”Yeah, fine. But we need to have you say ‘lets go Mets.’”
”Lets go Mets,” she said weakly. “There I said it, now let me up.
”No, you need to say it like you mean it. Put some feeling into it, woman. Like this! LETS GO METS!” The hairbrush again met Erin’s tender bottom with each word. Her shorts flew off as she bucked and howled on Brad’s lap.
”Ow, ow ow,” she said as her body relaxed again.
”Want to take a minute to think about how you’ll say this with me while I spank you?” Brad asked as he lightly tapped her bottom with the brush.
”Yeah, that would be great. Just let me up and I’ll figure this out.”
”Oh no, you’ll figure it out from where you are! Just let me know when you’re ready.” Brad put the brush down on her back and reached over her for the bottle of Coke he had left on the table. He took a swig, sighed and said “Refreshing. You could probably use a refreshing cool beverage, couldn’t you?”
”Yes!”
”Well, once we get this right, you can have one!” Brad taunted.
”I am sooooo going to get back at you for this!”
”Maybe, but your revenge will come from a standing position, not a sitting one,” Brad said flatly.
After a few minutes, Erin said, “Okay, I think I can do this now, but not so hard, huh?”
”Oh, I don’t know about that. We need the drum session to make this sound right,” Brad’s grin was back in full force.
”You are so dead!”
”Ready?”
”Ready,” she squeaked.
”LETS GO METS!”
Erin barely got through the first word before she broke off into a howling crescendo.
”Well, that didn’t work. We’ll try again, I suppose.” Brad was truly enjoying himself.
”Get this over with!” Erin screeched.
”Okay. Here we go! LETS GO METS!”
This time, Erin managed to get through the entire phrase, although she had to buck and pitch her body the entire time.
”Hmm. Not believable,” Brad said. “We’ll try again. I want you to make me believe you mean it this time.”
”No! Shit! Fuck! Okay!”
”Ready?”
”DO IT! GET THIS OVER WITH!”
”Okay…LETS GO METS!”
Erin got through the entire phrase with her body contorting and her face screwed up in a manner one might not think was humanly possible. But, she got through it.
”THAT’S what I was looking for!” Brad said, grinning from ear to ear.
”You’re letting me up now, right?”
”Oh, yeah, sure.” Brad could not resist the temptation, however, to hold Erin in place while he took another swig of his Coke.
” I guess we’re done here,” he said as he released her.
Erin sprang off his lap and bounced up and down on her bare feet as her hands gingerly nursed her burning backside. Glaring at Brad, she said “You’d better sleep with one eye open tonight, Buster!”
”I always do with you,” Brad shot back.
Erin tried to lift her panties back up, but the garment was so tangled she could not adjust them. She bounced from foot to foot as she struggled to take them off instead.
As she stormed from the room with her feet pounding on the floor, Brad sat back and looked to the ceiling. As he stared straight up, his smile still in place, he said “Thank you, Lord.”
A drawer slammed in the bedroom. “Shit!” Erin’s muffled voice could be heard.
Spreading his arms out across the back of the couch, Brad put his feet up on the coffee table. “Son of a bitch!” Erin yelled in the other room.
Laughing at nothing in particular, Brad spoke to himself. “This was every Mets fan’s dream come true!”
***** 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. *****
June is the time for inter-league baseball games. One of the most intense inter-league rivalries can be found in The Big Apple when the New York Yankees face off against the New York Mets.
”That pitch went right down the heart of the plate, and he just couldn’t get the bat around in time and that brings the count to 1 ball and 2 strikes with 2 out and a runner on first.”
Brad and Erin were watching the end of the opening game in the New York inter-league “subway series.” It had been a true pitcher’s duel throughout, but the Yankees were now leading the game by one run as the Mets took their final turn at bat in the 9th inning.
Erin was a petite woman with strawberry blonde hair and striking blue eyes. She was brushing back her long locks with her hairbrush. Having finished, she put her navy blue Yankees baseball cap back on her head. She turned and smiled at Brad, who was dressed in his favorite Mets t-shirt and matching Mets cap.
”The Mets really suck,” Erin said. “But that shouldn’t be a surprise to you. You should really ditch that Mets cap and get a shirt and hat that say ‘New York Losers.’ Twenty-Eight World Series titles in the Bronx, baby!” Erin hooted as she did a happy wiggle on the couch. “The last time the Mets won a World Series they only won because the Red Sox choked!” She was referring to the 1986 World Series.
Brad sat quietly, a scowl on his face. His arms were crossed and his hands were clenched into fists. Inwardly, he was praying to the God he worshiped that the Mets would give him reason to fire back with some verbal taunts. But Brad was a lifelong Mets fan; so deep down in his heart he knew it was unlikely that his team would give him any ammunition.
”That pitch came in high for ball two and the runner goes…The Yankees catcher holds onto the ball so that will be scored as defensive indifference.”
”Look at that! Those morons can’t even get a real stolen base. They have to settle for a defensive indifference call. More like ‘defensive sympathy.’” Erin laughed at her own joke and squirmed with delight on the couch.
The obnoxious Yankees fan he had somehow managed to fall in love with had been badgering him with these comments all day long. Brad was no longer able to contain himself. “Nah,” he said, “the Yankees were afraid that if their catcher botched the throw that runner could possibly score and tie the game. How many of those throws has that nitwit sent into center field this year? About 15, I think. That was really a ‘defensive anxiety’ call.”
”Ha, ha, ha,” Erin said with sarcasm. “The Mets will still lose, because that’s all that they know how to do. My team knows how to win!”
”The Yankees closer has been lights out in his last seven games,” the announcer on the TV continued, “He’s allowed no runs on only one hit and three walks; the third of those three walks is now standing at second base after that defensive indifference call.”
”Our closer knows how to close a game. Doesn’t your closer have more blown saves than actual saves?”
Brad just scowled at the remark.
”There’s the wind-up and there’s the pitch, a high velocity fastball on the inside part of the plate…that ball is well hit and going deep to left-center field…”
Erin jumped from the couch and began to do a happy dance in the living room. “And it’s caught!” she squealed with delight. “The Yankees win again,” she chanted in a sing-song voice. “The Mets suck; the Yankees rule, you suck and I rule,” she sang as she turned and pointed at Brad with arms extended and both index fingers out.
The announcer on the television continued. “He’s looking up and it’s outta here!” Erin’s face turned red and then purple as her features pinched into a look of disbelief. “The Mets take game one in the series with a two run walk off home run against the Yankees closer!”
The second television announcer took up the talk. “He had been almost perfect in his last seven outings, but even with the trouble the Mets have had scoring runs this year, no pitcher, I don’t care how good he is, can make a mistake on the inside of the plate to this hitter. If you do, you’ll get burned.”
”And he sure did get burned on that pitch. That was a gopher ball that he would really like to take back!” Erin turned to face the television as the announcers had been speaking. She stood with an open jaw watching the runners trot around the bases as replay footage of the home run was being replayed.
Brad shut the television off. He looked at Erin, standing in her Yankkes cap, navy blue Yankees t-shirt and her shorts that had the Yankees emblem emblazoned along the backside. A smile crossed his face. It was an evil, sadistic smile, but it was a smile. It had been a long time since the Mets had made him smile.
”That was nice,” Brad said.
”So they won a game. Even the Mets haven’t figured out how to lose 162 games in a season – Yet!” Erin snapped. “My Yankees are still in first place in the American League East.”
”You may want to rethink that,” a smiling Brad said, “The Yanks were only half a game up coming into this game. Since they lost, they’re now in a tie for first with…” Brad inhaled deeply, and then in a venomous voice he spat the words, “The Red Sox!”
Erin’s eyes flashed with hatred and rage at the mention of that baseball team. “Yeah, well…the Yanks can retake first easily enough! Especially now that Boston’s first baseman is on the disabled list! The Mets, they’re what, chasing the Washington Nationals for last place, or something?”
”Again, you need to rethink that,” Brad said. His evil and sadistic smile grew into a wicked and cruel grin. “With this win against the Yanks, the Mets are now a game behind the Phillies for first place. And if the Phillies lose to the Devil Rays tonight, and they may just lose that game, the Mets will be in a first place tie!”
Erin gave a sarcastic laugh that was devoid of any true mirth. “The Mets in first place,” she repeated. “Boy, that really does show what a weak division the National League East is! If the Mets could be anywhere near the top of the standings, then the whole division is a joke!”
Brad gave a content sigh and looked at Erin with the grin still on his face. “Come here, my sweet little dumpling,” he said.
”Um…no?” Erin replied.
Brad held his left hand up and waved his fingers back towards himself. “Come here, my darling,” he said.
”Nah, I don’t wanna,” Erin said.
Brad leaned forward in his seat. Crooking his right index finger and looking Erin directly in the eyes, he said again, “Come here, my sweet.”
Erin opened her mouth to reply, but Brad was up in a flash. He grabbed her by the wrist and yanked her back to the couch. Caught off balance, Erin slipped face first over Brad’s lap. “Brad! What are you doing?!?”
Brad did not reply. His grin grew wider as he looked at those nave blue shorts with the Yankees emblem across the backside. With a single jerk, he yanked them down to her thighs. Her panties had been caught in his grasp as well and they turned themselves inside out as the garments were pulled down her legs.
”Brad!” Erin screeched, “What the hell! Let go of me!”
”I’m so gonna enjoy this,” Brad said. A moment later, Brad’s right hand descended on Erin’s bottom with a resounding crack.
”OW!!” Erin kicked her legs as the sharp sting raced through her bottom. “Okay, Brad, you had your joke. Let me up!”
”Sure, I’ll let you up. After you tell me the Yankees suck!”
”NEVER!!!”
Another sharp stinging blow landed on Erin’s bottom. She let out a howl and tried to squirm away from Brad, but it was a useless effort. Brad was a head taller than the woman and a full 110 pounds heavier. She was trapped.
”The Mets spanked the Yanks, and now I get to spank a Yankees fan!” Brad laughed at and unleashed 8 more hard stinging swats on Erin’s bottom in rapid fire succession.
”OWWW!!! Damnit, Brad, LET ME UP!!!”
”Not until you say the Yankees suck.”
Pouting, and pounding her fists against the arm of the couch, Erin said in a near whisper, “the Yankees suck.”
”Oh, that was weak,” Brad said. He reached over to the coffee table and picked up the hairbrush Erin had been using earlier; a plastic handled brush with a rubber backing on the oval area that held the bristles. “I think you need more motivation!”
Brad raised the hairbrush and flicking his wrist like a pro, he snapped it off of Erin’s left buttock. The woman howled and bucked, but Brad held firm and quickly delivered an identical blow to her right buttock.
”I believe you were saying something before?” Brad asked casually, his smile not the least bit diminished.
”THE YANKEES SUCK!” Erin screamed. “I said it, now let me up!”
”No,” Brad said holding her firmly in place. “I think it’s time to lure you away from the Dark Side and make you walk the path of the Jedi!”
”What the fuck?” Erin said.
Without warning, Brad raised the brush. Taking careful aim at the tender spot where Erin’s bottom and thighs met, he let go with the rally cry of Mets fans. “LETS GO METS!” he chanted, emphasizing each word with a stinging swat of the brush on the very tender area of the sit spot.
Erin kicked her feet with a fury. He fists pounded into the couch and she howled under the blows. Brad paused to let her catch her breath. “Okay, you made your point. Now let me up. You’re hurting me!”
”I’ll let you up, sure thing,” Brad said in a callous manner, “But first I want to join in with me.”
”Huh?”
”I want to you to say ‘lets go Mets’ with me. Here goes! LETS GO METS!!!” Again Brad emphasized each word by spanking Erin’s sit spot with the brush. Erin did not join in the chant. Instead her body went stiff as a block of wood, her arms shot out at right angles and she screeched like a werewolf in a bad B grade horror movie. Her Yankees baseball cap flew off of her head and landed on the floor at a strange angle.
”No, that’s not what I wanted to hear,” Brad said as Erin’s body relaxed.
Crying, Erin looked back at Brad and said, “Brad, please, no more of this. You had your fun. Let me up!”
”Sure, I want to hear you say ‘lets go Mets’ first. Then I’ll let you up.”
”I can’t say that while you’re hitting me with a hairbrush!”
”Not my problem.” Brad’s voice held no mercy for the poor woman.
”Brad…please. I’m sorry I said all that stuff about the Mets, okay?”
”Yeah, fine. But we need to have you say ‘lets go Mets.’”
”Lets go Mets,” she said weakly. “There I said it, now let me up.
”No, you need to say it like you mean it. Put some feeling into it, woman. Like this! LETS GO METS!” The hairbrush again met Erin’s tender bottom with each word. Her shorts flew off as she bucked and howled on Brad’s lap.
”Ow, ow ow,” she said as her body relaxed again.
”Want to take a minute to think about how you’ll say this with me while I spank you?” Brad asked as he lightly tapped her bottom with the brush.
”Yeah, that would be great. Just let me up and I’ll figure this out.”
”Oh no, you’ll figure it out from where you are! Just let me know when you’re ready.” Brad put the brush down on her back and reached over her for the bottle of Coke he had left on the table. He took a swig, sighed and said “Refreshing. You could probably use a refreshing cool beverage, couldn’t you?”
”Yes!”
”Well, once we get this right, you can have one!” Brad taunted.
”I am sooooo going to get back at you for this!”
”Maybe, but your revenge will come from a standing position, not a sitting one,” Brad said flatly.
After a few minutes, Erin said, “Okay, I think I can do this now, but not so hard, huh?”
”Oh, I don’t know about that. We need the drum session to make this sound right,” Brad’s grin was back in full force.
”You are so dead!”
”Ready?”
”Ready,” she squeaked.
”LETS GO METS!”
Erin barely got through the first word before she broke off into a howling crescendo.
”Well, that didn’t work. We’ll try again, I suppose.” Brad was truly enjoying himself.
”Get this over with!” Erin screeched.
”Okay. Here we go! LETS GO METS!”
This time, Erin managed to get through the entire phrase, although she had to buck and pitch her body the entire time.
”Hmm. Not believable,” Brad said. “We’ll try again. I want you to make me believe you mean it this time.”
”No! Shit! Fuck! Okay!”
”Ready?”
”DO IT! GET THIS OVER WITH!”
”Okay…LETS GO METS!”
Erin got through the entire phrase with her body contorting and her face screwed up in a manner one might not think was humanly possible. But, she got through it.
”THAT’S what I was looking for!” Brad said, grinning from ear to ear.
”You’re letting me up now, right?”
”Oh, yeah, sure.” Brad could not resist the temptation, however, to hold Erin in place while he took another swig of his Coke.
” I guess we’re done here,” he said as he released her.
Erin sprang off his lap and bounced up and down on her bare feet as her hands gingerly nursed her burning backside. Glaring at Brad, she said “You’d better sleep with one eye open tonight, Buster!”
”I always do with you,” Brad shot back.
Erin tried to lift her panties back up, but the garment was so tangled she could not adjust them. She bounced from foot to foot as she struggled to take them off instead.
As she stormed from the room with her feet pounding on the floor, Brad sat back and looked to the ceiling. As he stared straight up, his smile still in place, he said “Thank you, Lord.”
A drawer slammed in the bedroom. “Shit!” Erin’s muffled voice could be heard.
Spreading his arms out across the back of the couch, Brad put his feet up on the coffee table. “Son of a bitch!” Erin yelled in the other room.
Laughing at nothing in particular, Brad spoke to himself. “This was every Mets fan’s dream come true!”
***** 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. *****
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. *****
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. *****
Iced Coffee Not Served Here (M/F Spanking Fiction)
Iced Coffee Not Served Here
It had been a glorious spring day. The sun was shining and the air was worm, despite a southeasterly wind that had caused more than a few haircuts to go askew. Michael had been waiting all winter for a day such as this. The bitter New England winter was now past and Michael’s pride and joy, a 1964 Ford Falcon convertible was out in the pleasant spring air and being showed at local classic car events.
Claire sat in the passenger seat of the impeccably kept classic car. She and Michael had spent all of the morning and half of the afternoon proudly showing the car at the local Dairy Queen. It was a picture perfect Saturday and Michael and Claire had been carefree and laughing the entire day. A smile crossed Clair’s face as the breeze whipped her long Auburn locks during the top-down drive through a main road. Admirers gave thumb’s up signs to the passing Falcon and a few well wishers tooted their horns as the car breezed past.
”Mike, there’s a Dunkin Donuts up ahead on the left,” Claire said. “Let’s pull in. I’m in the mood for an ice coffee.”
”Sounds good,” Michael agreed.
The Dunkin Donuts was not terribly crowded, despite the fact that it was after 2:00pm on a Saturday afternoon. There was only one woman in line when the couple walked in. A small boy of about 6 was with her, and he dawdled at the counter unable to decide which color donut suited his fancy. As the couple waited for the small boy to make up his mind, the line behind them grew as half a dozen more customers came into the store.
Having to wait almost 5 minutes for the young boy to pick a donut began to slowly grate on Claire’s nerves, but he was a child, and she took the situation in stride and indulged the youngster. She really wanted the ice coffee. It was calling to her as a craving and her mouth was watering with in anticipation of the bittersweet beverage.
At last the woman and the small boy left the counter and the shop. The line behind Claire and Michael had grown to about 8 people by this time. Michael walked up to the counter where a short, middle aged woman asked for his order.
”I’ll have a small black coffee,” Michael said. “Claire here will have an ice coffee, what size did you want, sweetie?”
”Medium, please,” Claire replied.
”Oh, I’m sorry,” the clerk said. “Our ice coffee machine broke down this morning and the guy won’t be here to fix it until Monday.”
”What?!?” Claire said.
”The machine broke,” the woman went on. “I can’t make ice coffee, but everything else is working. Is there another drink I can get you?”
Claire’s lips curled in annoyance. “No there is not another drink you can get me!” she snapped at the clerk. “I came in here for an ice coffee. I’ve been craving one all day. Can’t you do something with the machine yourself?”
”No, I don’t know how to fix…”
”Well, check the stupid plug!” Claire cut the clerk off. “Can’t you look to make sure that the stupid plug didn’t come loose? Didn’t that ever go through your mind?”
The people in line behind Claire and Michael shuffled awkwardly at the woman’s outburst.
”Claire, look, we can…” Michael began in a soothing tone. But Claire was in no mood to be mollified.
”We can what, Michael?” she snapped. “We can get something else? We can go to another place? What’s the point of having staff in a place like this if they can’t even get the machines to work? What does it take for them to have people who know what their doing so customer’s aren’t inconvenienced like this?!?” Claire’s voice was loud and her lips were set in a mean slit. “Of all the stupid, moronic, things that I see and hear…” she never completed her words.
”CLAIRE MARIE FELLER!!! THAT IS ENOUGH!!!” Michael’s voice electrified everyone in the shop. “You drive a car, do you not? Do you repair your car when it breaks down? No you don’t! You use a computer, but when that breaks you take it to someone else to have it fixed, correct? Correct! This woman uses the machine to make the ice coffee, but she needs a technician to fix it when it breaks just like you do with your car or your computer. Do you understand me?”
Claire’s lips twitched, but she did not reply. The awkward silence that fell over the shop was beyond awkward as the customers behind the couple continued to shuffle nervously and stare quietly at the floor.
Michael pressed his advantage. “Apologize to this woman, Claire,” he said indicating the clerk with his thumb. Claire stared straight at him and opened her mouth to say something but Michael cut her off. “APOLOGIZE RIGHT NOW, YOUNG LADY!”
Her jaw quivering, Claire cast her gaze away from the counter and spoke meekly to the clerk. “I’m sorry I caused a scene,” was all that she said.
Michael turned back to the clerk. “I would still like that small coffee, please.” The woman quickly poured his coffee and pushed it across the counter to him. “How much do I owe you?” Michael asked as he reached for his wallet.
Smiling, the plump clerk said simply, “On the house today, honey. Have a nice day.”
Taking Claire by the wrist Michael growled in a low voice “We’re going to talk about this when I get you home.”
Claire was already weak in the knees with embarrassment but she almost wept openly when two of the men standing in line behind the couple applauded Michael as they walked out of the shop.
The ride back to the house that the couple shared was a silent one. For Claire, it seemed endless. She kept simply stared at her lap during the entire ride. As the car pulled into the garage, the woman felt as a lump rise into her throat. Michael got out of the car and drank down the last of his coffee. He pitched the empty cardboard cup into a small wastebasket that stood near the entrance to the house from the garage. Looking back at the car he said simply, “Get your butt into the house. NOW!”
Claire exhaled heavily as her trembling right hand reached for the latch that opened the door. Slowly, she climbed out of the shiny yellow car and with feet shuffling; she nervously made her way inside. When she reached the living room, she fell heavily onto the sofa. She crossed her arms and pouted and crossed her legs. She was rapidly bouncing the heel of her flip-flop against her foot as Michael stood over her glaring.
”How dare you speak that way to another person?” he growled. “What makes you think you’re such a divine diva that you can be that disrespectful to another human being? Do you have any idea how unacceptable your behavior was? Do you have any idea how embarrassed I was by your behavior?”
Claire looked away and tried to keep her face hard. “I’m sorry, Michael. I don’t know what came over me. It was just one of those things.”
”No, it was not one of those things. This happens with you too often! You just fly off the handle at people for little BS things like you did today. Remember the last time you did this? Remember what I said I’d do if you ever embarrassed me like this again?
Claire broke into a cold sweat as all of the blood drained from her face. With pleading eyes she looked at Michael. “No, look, I’m sorry. It won’t happen again. I’ll do better next time and it won’t happen again, Michael.”
”What you said to me just now is the same thing you said the last time. And the time before that. And the time before that! I’ll say this much, you’re damn right when you say there won’t be a next time because I’m going to see to that RIGHT NOW!”
”Michael, NO!” Claire was stunned as her boyfriend slipped onto the couch next to her. With the speed and agility of a gazelle, he lifted the woman up and over his lap. The back of her frilly green sundress was raised without ceremony. As he began to pull her lacy panties down, Claire let out a whine and tried to reach back with her right hand to stop him. Grasping her wrist firmly in his left hand, Michael held the woman in place and with his right hand he tugged her panties down to the middle of her thighs.
Claire wriggled her feet softly as a rush of air surged over her bare and vulnerable bottom. The flip-flop on her left foot fell benignly onto the floor. With very little ceremony Michael’s right hand clapped down on Claire’s exposed backside. The woman gave a short squeal and tensed her body. An instant later a warm radiating sensation washed over her right bottom cheek. “Oh my God!” she thought to herself, “He really meant it!”
The next spank caught Claire sharply on her left buttock just as her body was un-tensing from the previous smack. Her other flip-flop fell off and Claire felt a wave of shock and disbelief wash over her as a second burning fire erupted in her backside. Michael was still too incensed to speak to Claire and for the next five minutes the only sound that could be heard in the room was the sharp cracking of Michael’s right hand on Claire’s soft bottom.
Claire used every ounce of willpower in her being to not cry out in any way. She did not even speak. She did not ask him to stop or even offer a half-hearted “I’m sorry.” She was determined not to give him the satisfaction. Although she did kick her legs and buck mightily to avoid his unforgiving hand, Claire remained silent and stoic.
After another interminable spank, Michael let his hand rest on Claire’s bottom. “Is anything getting through to you, Claire?” he asked.
”Yeah, whatever, Michael,” she said in a flat tone. “You proved your point or whatever it was you were trying to do.” With no emotion or inflection in her voice at all, she went on in a flat tone, “I acted like a spoiled little diva so now I’m getting spanked, so, yeah, whatever, I learned my lesson. Are we done now?”
Michael released Claire and she shot straight up and began fixing her dress. Only then did she realize that at some point, her panties ad been kicked from her legs and had slid under the coffee table. She knelt down to pick them up, and as she stood up, Michael lifted her up and draped her over his left shoulder. “No, Claire, we aren’t done now. I didn’t get through to you one bit. But I intend to get through to you. This type of behavior stops today, and you will show sincere remorse before I’m finished with you.”
Michael’s words caused Claire’s blood to freeze. Instinctively, her fingers and toes curled into balls. “Michael, look…I know I was a little hot under the collar in Dunkin Donuts…”
“You’ll be hot on another body part pretty soon,” Michael cut her off. “This will teach you not to treat other people with that sort of disrespect!”
”What are you going to do to me?”
”What you father would have done if your mother hadn’t cut him off at the knees!”
Michael had carried Claire up the stairs to their bedroom. When they arrived he placed her feet first on the floor. His athletic body moved quickly. Before Claire could fully balance herself, Michael had slipped her dress up over her head and let it flutter to the floor. She stood in front of him wearing only her bra. A smile crossed her mouth. She bent down in front of him and with her face near his crotch, she said, “If you wanted me to suck you, all you had to do was ask!” She fluttered her eyes at him and reached for his zipper.
Oral sex was the last thing on Michael’s mind. With deft reflexes, he grabbed Claire’s wrists and gently guided her back into a standing position. “On the bed,” Michael said.
Claire laughed nervously. “Okay, Mike. I’ll get the condoms if you want.”
”Won’t need ‘em,” Michael replied. “Get on the bed tummy down.”
Claire blinked her eyes at him wondering what was coming next. “Okay, Michael,” she said quietly. “But you know, we can talk about things.”
”We’ve already talked about things. The time for talk is done. Get on the bed and lay on your stomach.” Claire eased herself onto the bed and turned over onto her belly. Michael walked around the bed and stood on her left side. Reaching down, he took first her left wrist, and then her right wrist into his left hand. He held the two wrists crossed over each other and pressed them into the small of Claire’s back.
”What are you doing, Mike?” she asked, her voice betraying her state of anxiety. When Michael did not reply, Claire turned her head to see him take his spare belt from a small valet that stood near the bed. The belt had been draped across the arm of the valet and was already partially folded. When Michael had a firm grasp of the belt he folded it completely in his right hand and let it droop slightly from his wrist.
As the import of what Claire saw penetrated her consciousness, she began bucking like a wild woman. “Michael, NO! Look, I’m sorry I yelled at that clerk! I screwed up, okay? I won’t do it again!” Michael raised his arm up over his head and the belt swung in his hand.
“MICHAEL NO!!!” Although Claire was fighting Michael’s strong grip with every muscle in her body, it was to no avail. His powerful body held her firmly in place. Before Claire knew what had happened a gentle whooshing sound gave way to something that sounded like a shotgun blast. The sound of the impact vibrated from the walls and an instant later a fire erupted in Claire’s buttocks. The flames licked their way up her spine and down her thighs as her entire body went stiff. Her legs crooked at the knees and her toes pointed towards the ceiling like ten tiny arrows ready to spring from a bow. She let out a high-pitched wail as the fire spread through her body. Her right hand escaped Michael’s grasp and she reached out to grab one of the bars on the headboard. Her forehead mashed itself into the pillow as she gasped for air.
Just as her breath began to return to almost normal, another sound boomed off of the walls and the inferno in her buttocks renewed itself with a vengence. Her legs in a frenzy, Claire pumped her feet as if she were riding and invisible vertical bicycle. She tried to reach back with her free right hand to protect her throbbing backside but Michael was too fast for her. With lightning speed, he once again trapped her wrist and pressed her hands down into the small of her back.
”STOP IT!!!” she wailed as loudly as her desperate gasps for air would permit.
”Not until you tell me what you did wrong and why it was wrong!” Michael shot back.
”Michael, I’m not playing games with you! I want you to stop this!”
“That’s on you then. I told you what you need to do to put an end to this, Claire.” Without another word, Michael’s belt crashed into Claire’s bottom with the fury of a typhoon wave crashing onto the white sands of the Hawaiian beaches. The blow landed exactly on the spot where Claire’s buttocks and thighs met. Her upper body went stiff and she threw her head and upper body back as far as her muscles would permit. He legs and feet shot straight out and her toes hooked out from her body; the tops of her toes caught the foot of the bed and with leverage borne of desperation helped arch her body further. The sound that escaped her lips was neither human nor animal. A moment later her body fell limply back to the bed.
After what seemed an eternity, Claire’s breathing began to normalize. She raised her head and looked at Michael. Her face was smeared with tears and perspiration and her red, puffy eyes were a sorrowful sight.
”Ready to tell me admit what you did wrong?” Michael asked in a flat tone of voice.
Swallowing hard, Claire replied, “Michael, I screwed up, okay? I know it, but sometimes I just get short tempered and I’ll seek anger management counseling or something…” Without warning the stiff leather bit unmercifully into Claire’s bottom yet again. She tried to roll her body to the right under the blow, but Michael held her firm. Her upper body barely shifted, although her left leg crooked back over the right leg; the right leg shooting straight back as Claire desperately tried to will the flames that were burning her flesh to try and escape through the bottoms of her feet and leave her body. A hard set of sobs began to come from her lips as her head crashed down onto the pillow. Her upper body convulsed under the force of her sobbing.
Again, Michael waited for Claire to regain her breath. When she did, he asked again, “Do you want to tell me what you did wrong and why what you did was wrong?”
”Yes,” she rasped in a pathetic tone of voice. She shook her head slightly to try and shake the auburn hair from her eyes. Looking back at Michael with a pleading expression, she spoke, with a stammer in her voice. “I…I was really disrespectful to that clerk. S-s-she…it wasn’t her fault the machine was broken.”
”What else?” Michael asked.
Claire again swallowed hard. “I just have to do better is all.”
Michael raised his right hand over his head again. Seeing the motion, Claire’s entire body tensed. “WAIT!!!” she screamed. “I wasn’t finished! Please, I’m just having some trouble breathing and I’m just having trouble talking because I’m having trouble breathing so just wait and be patient and give me a chance for God’s sake don’t do that again until I finish and I can’t finish because I’m out of breath but I’m breathing better so I’ll finish now, okay, just wait and let me finish for God’s sake okay?”
“Fine. Catch your breath and finish,” Michael said letting the belt drop limply.
”Yeah, okay. Um…I was really disrespectful to that woman, and it was wrong. It’s not her job to fix the machines, and machines do break. So I acted really sucky to her, and I made myself look like a bitch doing it. And I shouldn’t be a bitch. And I don’t want to be a bitch, and I swear Michael, I swear to God I won’t be a bitch to people anymore. I am really sorry I acted like a bitch. I am really sorry I hurt that woman’s feelings and I’m really sorry I embarrassed you in public by acting like a bitch and I won’t do it again. I really won’t do it again, Michael. I’ve really learned my lesson this time.”
”I hope so,” Michael said as he softly tossed the belt onto the bed. “Because if you ever behave like that when we’re out again, this strapping I just gave you will only be the start of your misery.”
”I won’t, Michael, I won’t!”
Michael released Claire’s hands, which immediately found their way to her scorched nether regions. She rubbed herself in a desperate attempt to try and put out the fire that now engulfed her buttocks. Michael walked into the bathroom and returned a moment later. He sat down on the bed next to Claire, and poured some soothing lotion onto her bottom. The sensation of the cool lotion against her hot flesh caused Claire to emit a high-pitched squeal. Her body tensed and her legs kicked slightly, and then her feet began to turn slowly at the ankles in small circles as Michael gently rubbed the lotion into her bottom.
The room was silent for several minutes. Neither spoke until Michael began pouring the second dose of lotion onto Claire’s bottom. As he did so, he said, “I love you, Claire. But I don’t like you very much when you act the way you did today. We were having such a great day together too. I really hope you learned your lesson because I don’t want to go through that with you again. I love you too much to see you act like that, but I also love you enough to try to put a stop to it. You understand?”
Claire rolled onto her right side as Michael finished speaking. She slid gingerly onto his lap, wincing visibly as her sore bottom brushed against the fabric of his jeans. She reached up and put her arms around his neck, kissed him gently on the lips and buried her tear stained face into neck and chest. “I love you too, and I hate myself when I do these things. And I don’t ever want to feel this way again.”
She said not another word, and neither did Michael. They just quietly held each other for nearly and hour. Claire cried on and off during that time. Claire was truly sorry and Michael quietly held her in a demonstration of love and forgiveness.
***** 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. *****
It had been a glorious spring day. The sun was shining and the air was worm, despite a southeasterly wind that had caused more than a few haircuts to go askew. Michael had been waiting all winter for a day such as this. The bitter New England winter was now past and Michael’s pride and joy, a 1964 Ford Falcon convertible was out in the pleasant spring air and being showed at local classic car events.
Claire sat in the passenger seat of the impeccably kept classic car. She and Michael had spent all of the morning and half of the afternoon proudly showing the car at the local Dairy Queen. It was a picture perfect Saturday and Michael and Claire had been carefree and laughing the entire day. A smile crossed Clair’s face as the breeze whipped her long Auburn locks during the top-down drive through a main road. Admirers gave thumb’s up signs to the passing Falcon and a few well wishers tooted their horns as the car breezed past.
”Mike, there’s a Dunkin Donuts up ahead on the left,” Claire said. “Let’s pull in. I’m in the mood for an ice coffee.”
”Sounds good,” Michael agreed.
The Dunkin Donuts was not terribly crowded, despite the fact that it was after 2:00pm on a Saturday afternoon. There was only one woman in line when the couple walked in. A small boy of about 6 was with her, and he dawdled at the counter unable to decide which color donut suited his fancy. As the couple waited for the small boy to make up his mind, the line behind them grew as half a dozen more customers came into the store.
Having to wait almost 5 minutes for the young boy to pick a donut began to slowly grate on Claire’s nerves, but he was a child, and she took the situation in stride and indulged the youngster. She really wanted the ice coffee. It was calling to her as a craving and her mouth was watering with in anticipation of the bittersweet beverage.
At last the woman and the small boy left the counter and the shop. The line behind Claire and Michael had grown to about 8 people by this time. Michael walked up to the counter where a short, middle aged woman asked for his order.
”I’ll have a small black coffee,” Michael said. “Claire here will have an ice coffee, what size did you want, sweetie?”
”Medium, please,” Claire replied.
”Oh, I’m sorry,” the clerk said. “Our ice coffee machine broke down this morning and the guy won’t be here to fix it until Monday.”
”What?!?” Claire said.
”The machine broke,” the woman went on. “I can’t make ice coffee, but everything else is working. Is there another drink I can get you?”
Claire’s lips curled in annoyance. “No there is not another drink you can get me!” she snapped at the clerk. “I came in here for an ice coffee. I’ve been craving one all day. Can’t you do something with the machine yourself?”
”No, I don’t know how to fix…”
”Well, check the stupid plug!” Claire cut the clerk off. “Can’t you look to make sure that the stupid plug didn’t come loose? Didn’t that ever go through your mind?”
The people in line behind Claire and Michael shuffled awkwardly at the woman’s outburst.
”Claire, look, we can…” Michael began in a soothing tone. But Claire was in no mood to be mollified.
”We can what, Michael?” she snapped. “We can get something else? We can go to another place? What’s the point of having staff in a place like this if they can’t even get the machines to work? What does it take for them to have people who know what their doing so customer’s aren’t inconvenienced like this?!?” Claire’s voice was loud and her lips were set in a mean slit. “Of all the stupid, moronic, things that I see and hear…” she never completed her words.
”CLAIRE MARIE FELLER!!! THAT IS ENOUGH!!!” Michael’s voice electrified everyone in the shop. “You drive a car, do you not? Do you repair your car when it breaks down? No you don’t! You use a computer, but when that breaks you take it to someone else to have it fixed, correct? Correct! This woman uses the machine to make the ice coffee, but she needs a technician to fix it when it breaks just like you do with your car or your computer. Do you understand me?”
Claire’s lips twitched, but she did not reply. The awkward silence that fell over the shop was beyond awkward as the customers behind the couple continued to shuffle nervously and stare quietly at the floor.
Michael pressed his advantage. “Apologize to this woman, Claire,” he said indicating the clerk with his thumb. Claire stared straight at him and opened her mouth to say something but Michael cut her off. “APOLOGIZE RIGHT NOW, YOUNG LADY!”
Her jaw quivering, Claire cast her gaze away from the counter and spoke meekly to the clerk. “I’m sorry I caused a scene,” was all that she said.
Michael turned back to the clerk. “I would still like that small coffee, please.” The woman quickly poured his coffee and pushed it across the counter to him. “How much do I owe you?” Michael asked as he reached for his wallet.
Smiling, the plump clerk said simply, “On the house today, honey. Have a nice day.”
Taking Claire by the wrist Michael growled in a low voice “We’re going to talk about this when I get you home.”
Claire was already weak in the knees with embarrassment but she almost wept openly when two of the men standing in line behind the couple applauded Michael as they walked out of the shop.
The ride back to the house that the couple shared was a silent one. For Claire, it seemed endless. She kept simply stared at her lap during the entire ride. As the car pulled into the garage, the woman felt as a lump rise into her throat. Michael got out of the car and drank down the last of his coffee. He pitched the empty cardboard cup into a small wastebasket that stood near the entrance to the house from the garage. Looking back at the car he said simply, “Get your butt into the house. NOW!”
Claire exhaled heavily as her trembling right hand reached for the latch that opened the door. Slowly, she climbed out of the shiny yellow car and with feet shuffling; she nervously made her way inside. When she reached the living room, she fell heavily onto the sofa. She crossed her arms and pouted and crossed her legs. She was rapidly bouncing the heel of her flip-flop against her foot as Michael stood over her glaring.
”How dare you speak that way to another person?” he growled. “What makes you think you’re such a divine diva that you can be that disrespectful to another human being? Do you have any idea how unacceptable your behavior was? Do you have any idea how embarrassed I was by your behavior?”
Claire looked away and tried to keep her face hard. “I’m sorry, Michael. I don’t know what came over me. It was just one of those things.”
”No, it was not one of those things. This happens with you too often! You just fly off the handle at people for little BS things like you did today. Remember the last time you did this? Remember what I said I’d do if you ever embarrassed me like this again?
Claire broke into a cold sweat as all of the blood drained from her face. With pleading eyes she looked at Michael. “No, look, I’m sorry. It won’t happen again. I’ll do better next time and it won’t happen again, Michael.”
”What you said to me just now is the same thing you said the last time. And the time before that. And the time before that! I’ll say this much, you’re damn right when you say there won’t be a next time because I’m going to see to that RIGHT NOW!”
”Michael, NO!” Claire was stunned as her boyfriend slipped onto the couch next to her. With the speed and agility of a gazelle, he lifted the woman up and over his lap. The back of her frilly green sundress was raised without ceremony. As he began to pull her lacy panties down, Claire let out a whine and tried to reach back with her right hand to stop him. Grasping her wrist firmly in his left hand, Michael held the woman in place and with his right hand he tugged her panties down to the middle of her thighs.
Claire wriggled her feet softly as a rush of air surged over her bare and vulnerable bottom. The flip-flop on her left foot fell benignly onto the floor. With very little ceremony Michael’s right hand clapped down on Claire’s exposed backside. The woman gave a short squeal and tensed her body. An instant later a warm radiating sensation washed over her right bottom cheek. “Oh my God!” she thought to herself, “He really meant it!”
The next spank caught Claire sharply on her left buttock just as her body was un-tensing from the previous smack. Her other flip-flop fell off and Claire felt a wave of shock and disbelief wash over her as a second burning fire erupted in her backside. Michael was still too incensed to speak to Claire and for the next five minutes the only sound that could be heard in the room was the sharp cracking of Michael’s right hand on Claire’s soft bottom.
Claire used every ounce of willpower in her being to not cry out in any way. She did not even speak. She did not ask him to stop or even offer a half-hearted “I’m sorry.” She was determined not to give him the satisfaction. Although she did kick her legs and buck mightily to avoid his unforgiving hand, Claire remained silent and stoic.
After another interminable spank, Michael let his hand rest on Claire’s bottom. “Is anything getting through to you, Claire?” he asked.
”Yeah, whatever, Michael,” she said in a flat tone. “You proved your point or whatever it was you were trying to do.” With no emotion or inflection in her voice at all, she went on in a flat tone, “I acted like a spoiled little diva so now I’m getting spanked, so, yeah, whatever, I learned my lesson. Are we done now?”
Michael released Claire and she shot straight up and began fixing her dress. Only then did she realize that at some point, her panties ad been kicked from her legs and had slid under the coffee table. She knelt down to pick them up, and as she stood up, Michael lifted her up and draped her over his left shoulder. “No, Claire, we aren’t done now. I didn’t get through to you one bit. But I intend to get through to you. This type of behavior stops today, and you will show sincere remorse before I’m finished with you.”
Michael’s words caused Claire’s blood to freeze. Instinctively, her fingers and toes curled into balls. “Michael, look…I know I was a little hot under the collar in Dunkin Donuts…”
“You’ll be hot on another body part pretty soon,” Michael cut her off. “This will teach you not to treat other people with that sort of disrespect!”
”What are you going to do to me?”
”What you father would have done if your mother hadn’t cut him off at the knees!”
Michael had carried Claire up the stairs to their bedroom. When they arrived he placed her feet first on the floor. His athletic body moved quickly. Before Claire could fully balance herself, Michael had slipped her dress up over her head and let it flutter to the floor. She stood in front of him wearing only her bra. A smile crossed her mouth. She bent down in front of him and with her face near his crotch, she said, “If you wanted me to suck you, all you had to do was ask!” She fluttered her eyes at him and reached for his zipper.
Oral sex was the last thing on Michael’s mind. With deft reflexes, he grabbed Claire’s wrists and gently guided her back into a standing position. “On the bed,” Michael said.
Claire laughed nervously. “Okay, Mike. I’ll get the condoms if you want.”
”Won’t need ‘em,” Michael replied. “Get on the bed tummy down.”
Claire blinked her eyes at him wondering what was coming next. “Okay, Michael,” she said quietly. “But you know, we can talk about things.”
”We’ve already talked about things. The time for talk is done. Get on the bed and lay on your stomach.” Claire eased herself onto the bed and turned over onto her belly. Michael walked around the bed and stood on her left side. Reaching down, he took first her left wrist, and then her right wrist into his left hand. He held the two wrists crossed over each other and pressed them into the small of Claire’s back.
”What are you doing, Mike?” she asked, her voice betraying her state of anxiety. When Michael did not reply, Claire turned her head to see him take his spare belt from a small valet that stood near the bed. The belt had been draped across the arm of the valet and was already partially folded. When Michael had a firm grasp of the belt he folded it completely in his right hand and let it droop slightly from his wrist.
As the import of what Claire saw penetrated her consciousness, she began bucking like a wild woman. “Michael, NO! Look, I’m sorry I yelled at that clerk! I screwed up, okay? I won’t do it again!” Michael raised his arm up over his head and the belt swung in his hand.
“MICHAEL NO!!!” Although Claire was fighting Michael’s strong grip with every muscle in her body, it was to no avail. His powerful body held her firmly in place. Before Claire knew what had happened a gentle whooshing sound gave way to something that sounded like a shotgun blast. The sound of the impact vibrated from the walls and an instant later a fire erupted in Claire’s buttocks. The flames licked their way up her spine and down her thighs as her entire body went stiff. Her legs crooked at the knees and her toes pointed towards the ceiling like ten tiny arrows ready to spring from a bow. She let out a high-pitched wail as the fire spread through her body. Her right hand escaped Michael’s grasp and she reached out to grab one of the bars on the headboard. Her forehead mashed itself into the pillow as she gasped for air.
Just as her breath began to return to almost normal, another sound boomed off of the walls and the inferno in her buttocks renewed itself with a vengence. Her legs in a frenzy, Claire pumped her feet as if she were riding and invisible vertical bicycle. She tried to reach back with her free right hand to protect her throbbing backside but Michael was too fast for her. With lightning speed, he once again trapped her wrist and pressed her hands down into the small of her back.
”STOP IT!!!” she wailed as loudly as her desperate gasps for air would permit.
”Not until you tell me what you did wrong and why it was wrong!” Michael shot back.
”Michael, I’m not playing games with you! I want you to stop this!”
“That’s on you then. I told you what you need to do to put an end to this, Claire.” Without another word, Michael’s belt crashed into Claire’s bottom with the fury of a typhoon wave crashing onto the white sands of the Hawaiian beaches. The blow landed exactly on the spot where Claire’s buttocks and thighs met. Her upper body went stiff and she threw her head and upper body back as far as her muscles would permit. He legs and feet shot straight out and her toes hooked out from her body; the tops of her toes caught the foot of the bed and with leverage borne of desperation helped arch her body further. The sound that escaped her lips was neither human nor animal. A moment later her body fell limply back to the bed.
After what seemed an eternity, Claire’s breathing began to normalize. She raised her head and looked at Michael. Her face was smeared with tears and perspiration and her red, puffy eyes were a sorrowful sight.
”Ready to tell me admit what you did wrong?” Michael asked in a flat tone of voice.
Swallowing hard, Claire replied, “Michael, I screwed up, okay? I know it, but sometimes I just get short tempered and I’ll seek anger management counseling or something…” Without warning the stiff leather bit unmercifully into Claire’s bottom yet again. She tried to roll her body to the right under the blow, but Michael held her firm. Her upper body barely shifted, although her left leg crooked back over the right leg; the right leg shooting straight back as Claire desperately tried to will the flames that were burning her flesh to try and escape through the bottoms of her feet and leave her body. A hard set of sobs began to come from her lips as her head crashed down onto the pillow. Her upper body convulsed under the force of her sobbing.
Again, Michael waited for Claire to regain her breath. When she did, he asked again, “Do you want to tell me what you did wrong and why what you did was wrong?”
”Yes,” she rasped in a pathetic tone of voice. She shook her head slightly to try and shake the auburn hair from her eyes. Looking back at Michael with a pleading expression, she spoke, with a stammer in her voice. “I…I was really disrespectful to that clerk. S-s-she…it wasn’t her fault the machine was broken.”
”What else?” Michael asked.
Claire again swallowed hard. “I just have to do better is all.”
Michael raised his right hand over his head again. Seeing the motion, Claire’s entire body tensed. “WAIT!!!” she screamed. “I wasn’t finished! Please, I’m just having some trouble breathing and I’m just having trouble talking because I’m having trouble breathing so just wait and be patient and give me a chance for God’s sake don’t do that again until I finish and I can’t finish because I’m out of breath but I’m breathing better so I’ll finish now, okay, just wait and let me finish for God’s sake okay?”
“Fine. Catch your breath and finish,” Michael said letting the belt drop limply.
”Yeah, okay. Um…I was really disrespectful to that woman, and it was wrong. It’s not her job to fix the machines, and machines do break. So I acted really sucky to her, and I made myself look like a bitch doing it. And I shouldn’t be a bitch. And I don’t want to be a bitch, and I swear Michael, I swear to God I won’t be a bitch to people anymore. I am really sorry I acted like a bitch. I am really sorry I hurt that woman’s feelings and I’m really sorry I embarrassed you in public by acting like a bitch and I won’t do it again. I really won’t do it again, Michael. I’ve really learned my lesson this time.”
”I hope so,” Michael said as he softly tossed the belt onto the bed. “Because if you ever behave like that when we’re out again, this strapping I just gave you will only be the start of your misery.”
”I won’t, Michael, I won’t!”
Michael released Claire’s hands, which immediately found their way to her scorched nether regions. She rubbed herself in a desperate attempt to try and put out the fire that now engulfed her buttocks. Michael walked into the bathroom and returned a moment later. He sat down on the bed next to Claire, and poured some soothing lotion onto her bottom. The sensation of the cool lotion against her hot flesh caused Claire to emit a high-pitched squeal. Her body tensed and her legs kicked slightly, and then her feet began to turn slowly at the ankles in small circles as Michael gently rubbed the lotion into her bottom.
The room was silent for several minutes. Neither spoke until Michael began pouring the second dose of lotion onto Claire’s bottom. As he did so, he said, “I love you, Claire. But I don’t like you very much when you act the way you did today. We were having such a great day together too. I really hope you learned your lesson because I don’t want to go through that with you again. I love you too much to see you act like that, but I also love you enough to try to put a stop to it. You understand?”
Claire rolled onto her right side as Michael finished speaking. She slid gingerly onto his lap, wincing visibly as her sore bottom brushed against the fabric of his jeans. She reached up and put her arms around his neck, kissed him gently on the lips and buried her tear stained face into neck and chest. “I love you too, and I hate myself when I do these things. And I don’t ever want to feel this way again.”
She said not another word, and neither did Michael. They just quietly held each other for nearly and hour. Claire cried on and off during that time. Claire was truly sorry and Michael quietly held her in a demonstration of love and forgiveness.
***** 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. *****
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