Good and Still

Standard

“Hey!”

Paul had just turned off the car and then plucked the phone from Edith’s hands.

“Get inside and find a corner.”

Her chest was instantly tight at the command, and she felt the corners of her mouth drop down. Her most immediate impulse was to argue– it almost always was– but a quick scan of his eyes made her think better of it. Next the whine of “why” popped into her mind, but she rejected that as well. She knew exactly why.

They’d been to a movie, a fun one, and though he hadn’t mentioned her fidgeting, he had placed a hand on her thigh to settle her about a quarter through and had given it a squeeze more than once after. Each time she had forced a deep breath and attempted stillness again, but eventually she would find herself rearranging her legs in the comfortable arm chairs or bouncing on the soft seats.

She knew he wasn’t actually upset, and this wasn’t real trouble exactly. But it felt real enough.

She didn’t manage a “yes, sir,” but she did as she was told. Once there, she took several deep breaths, committed herself  to stillness once more, and tried to figure out how she was feeling.

It confused and thrilled her that her favorite scripts never seemed to tire. She was always afraid that they would, that one day her heart wouldn’t race with certain tones and phrases. But here she stood again, nose touching the corner and hands on her head. She decided she was feeling small and sulky and vulnerable.

“Edith, come in here,” Paul called to her after several minutes, just as she was beginning to contemplate allowing her feet to wiggle. Still, she left the corner with reluctance, shuffling toward his voice. Now that she was actually going to be spanked, part of her had very much changed its mind about what she really wanted to happen here. The bath brush on the bed made her bite her lip.

“Undo your jeans and bend over the bed. And let’s talk about how we act during the movies.”

The blush rushing up Edith’s face somehow translated to a scramble of her fingers at the button of her denim. She shoved her jeans down and bent over, feeling indignant now about the whole situation. A bit of stubbornness eroded as she felt him grab the sides of her underwear and slide them swiftly down to bunch at her knees. She could see him in her periphery as he stepped back and his hands moved to his belt buckle, the sound of its removal slick and practiced. She groaned and turned her head, but that put the bath brush directly in sight. There was no good option.

“You are lucky I didn’t pull you out of the theater and spank you in the hallway,” he said as the first lick fell sharply across her bottom.

“Paul!” she yelped, mortified at the thought, “I wasn’t that bad!”

“I don’t think you sat still for more than ten minutes at a time, young lady,” he scolded, the belt falling hard again and again.

“I’m just fidgety!”

“You were disruptive,” he replied as the belt landed across her sit-spots. “And I know you are capable of being still.”

“I’m not!” she wailed, hands covering her face and toes digging into the carpet. Every lick made her flinch and they were coming fast.

“I’m not going to argue with you, Edy. I’m going to incentivize you. Maybe I should make you practice sitting still every day for a bit.”

“Paul!” she gasped as he concentrated on the same spot for a moment. “No thank you! I don’t need that please!”

She was more panicked by that than anything he had done so far; it was clear from her tone. He smiled to himself and laid into her for another minute, increasing the arc of each swing and listening to the leather slap against her skin and to her small pitiful noises.

“Ow, wait Paul,” she said when he stopped with the belt and picked up the wooden implement. “That’s enough though!”

He brought the circular end down with a satisfying pop, and her voice wavered. “Ow ow ow ow!”

Her fingers crept back along the comforter as he spanked her, grabbing handfuls of it near her waist.

“Keep your hands out of the way, Edith,” he said, annoyed but not slowing his pace. “I’m serious.”

“I’m not I’m not I’m not!” she shrieked nonsensically, unable to explain that she knew better than to put her hands in the path of the bath brush. I’m not going to get in your way! They were just… fluttering.

He paused his onslaught, then said, “I want you to count the last twenty. And I do not want you to move.”

“Yessir,” she said quickly, gathering her arms up under her chest and bracing herself. The bath brush landed with a crack seconds later. “One, sir!”

He moved swiftly after that, and she squeaked her way through the swats. He reminded her once to put her leg down, silent but for a tap of the brush against her calf muscle. When he was finished, he pulled her underwear back up but left her jeans down. She stood and dove into his chest the moment she was allowed. Tears pricked at her eyes and she could tell she’d have trouble sitting still later.

That was a vicious cycle for the fidgety if there ever was one. She would try to be good though, she thought as she pressed her cheek against his firm chest and wrapped her arms tightly around his middle. As good and still as she could be.

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