“You know that I’m going to spank you tonight, right?”
Edith’s heart immediately began to beat harder and the air seemed dissipate from her lungs. Her eyes widened before her brow knit together and she scowled, then huffed, “I didn’t do anything!” They sat at the small dinner table together, having finished their meal a while ago.
”Who said you did?” Paul answered, nonplussed. “What does your statement have to do with my statement?”
Edith crossed her arms over her chest and glared. “Why—“ she began, and then she waited for the silence to stretch and for Paul to begin responding to say loudly over him, “—are you like this?”
He gazed at her for a moment and then casually put his hands behind his head, fingers interlaced, and said “I promise whatever spanking you think you want to earn right now will be worse than the one I was planning. Make good choices, Edy.”
She glowered, but kept her mouth shut for the moment. She had given him the power to punish or spank her as he saw fit, but she still struggled with it when he decided to do so.
He watched the conflicting emotions flicker across her face and decided not to make her wait. He scooted his chair back, stood, and walked behind her. Without a word he lifted her chair just enough to move it well away from the table. “Hey!” she exclaimed, swaying a bit and regaining her balance. “You said tonight! It’s still evening!”
”I just decided it’s tonight enough for me,” he said, stepping around and offering his hand to her. She crossed her arms and seemed to shrink as she tightened her body and looked away.
”Edy,” he said, his voice full of warning. She groaned and still refused to look at him, but finished the frustrated sound by unwinding her arms. Her hands paused a moment to grab the chair and he could see her knuckles tighten around the edge of the seat as she summoned the will to take his hand.
She did it, though, and he smiled and said “Good girl.” She immediately began to pull away, so he sat quickly and used his weight to pull her forward and across his lap. She didn’t feel like a good girl yet, didn’t want him to see her that way. She needed to earn it. He knew how to make that happen.
”Paul!” she yelled as her stomach hit his thighs. She always said his name like that when she was angry, like some sort of ward against whatever he had planned.
”Edith,” he responded conversationally as he flipped her dress up to reveal her pink boyshorts with tiny white polkadots. She kicked her legs but he ignored them as he adjusted her position.
She hated it when he manhandled her, so he took the opportunity whenever he could. He wanted to push her, get this brewing tantrum out before it became any bigger and she earned a real punishment. Neither one of them wanted that but it was the path she would take if he didn’t stop it early.
Her underwear did little to cover her round bottom, at least in this position. He liked not waiting for her to give him a reason to spank her. She hadn’t even been terribly bratty today, though he could tell her temper was fragile. He had already planned to spank her though. He was in a mood himself.
”Alright, young lady, let’s see if you can mind your manners well enough to keep this short and sweet.” He was provoking her and they both knew it. It didn’t stop it from working.
”You are the WORST,” she yelled at the floor. He chuckled and lifted his hand, bringing it down with a loud smack. She gasped and struggled and he pulled her in closer as he continued spanking and she continued yelling and kicking.
”Paul! Paul!! You can stop. I get it,” she said a minute later. She was finding it harder to choreograph her movements: she wanted him to feel how strong she was but the involuntary jerking of her legs made her feel weak.
”What do you get, little girl?” he asked, his steady hand never wavering.
”I won’t have an attitude!”
”You didn’t have an attitude. I could tell you were in a bad mood, but you haven’t been rude or bratty.” He said this as casually as if they were talking over coffee instead of her over his knee.
She pounded his thigh with her fists, just hard enough to make her presence known, and he responded by spanking her even harder. She shrieked and attempted to wiggle off of his lap. He kept her easily in place as he continued to put much of his strength into his right arm. After several dozen swats, he began to speak again.
”I’m spanking you because I want to spank you. I think it will make you feel better and more relaxed after, but that is just a bonus. I think you’ll be snuggly and subby and especially well-behaved after, and I like those things, too. But that is not why.”
He never slowed down as he spanked her, never lessened the power behind the swats, but she managed to stay mostly quiet as he talked. She liked what he was saying; it made her stomach flipflop to feel so out of control.
”I’m spanking you because I like the way you fit over my lap. I like the noises you make. I even like the way you kick and wiggle, although if you don’t tone it down a little, I’m going to reach over and grab a spoon.”
“Sorry! Sorry,” she said, and he could hear the hardness slipping out of her voice. She wanted to be still for him, if she could and if it was what he wanted. She tried really hard, and he didn’t make it easy. He wanted her to feel this well into the night and maybe tomorrow morning, so he put extra effort into her sit-spots and the tops of her thighs.
He enjoyed finding his rhythm, loved the feeling of his stinging palm and her hot skin and her weight against his legs. He liked that he didn’t have to worry about whether she liked it or not— and that in itself was good for her.
By time he was finished, there were raised striations along her thighs and her bottom practically glowed. He flipped her dress back down and allowed her to stand. She jerked the thin fabric back up so she could rub her sore backside, rocking onto the balls of her feet as she did so.
”Oh that was mean,” she said, but her glare had a twinkle that had been missing before.
”Was it?” he said, shaking his hand out a little.
”And I hate you,” she said, finally letting her dress fall back down and trying to right herself.
“You do?” he said, grinning at her.
”No, I don’t,” she said just as casually. “Thank you.”
Paul smiled even more broadly. “You are welcome, Miss Edy. You are very welcome indeed.”