Category Archives: Danny and Emma

Power Exchange

Standard

“Ben, come on babe! We were supposed to be on the road ten minutes ago.”

“I’m coming!”

~ ~ ~

“Honey, we’re going to miss our flight. I told you to eat before we left.”

“I wasn’t hungry earlier! It’ll just take a minute to order.”

~ ~ ~

“Benjamin, put the phone away. They have already asked you twice.”

“It doesn’t matter, Oliver. My one phone is not going to be the reason our flight crashes.”

Oliver leaned in very close to Ben, who sat by the window in their row of three. “No, it won’t be. Because it will be turned off and stowed in the seat back pocket in the next thirty seconds.” Ben glared at his boyfriend, a frown on his face that looked distinctly pouty, but Oliver continued talking in the same low controlled voice, “You have used up the very end of my patience, little boy. Your behavior from this moment until we land better be close to perfect, or the first thing I’m going to ask your brother is if I can borrow his hairbrush.”

Ben squirmed in his seat, glancing around the cabin conspicuously as he stowed his phone, but no one was paying attention to him besides Oliver. He crossed his arms and slouched in his seat, pulling his hoody lower over his head and across his eyes, all under the watchful glare of his disapproving boyfriend.

~ ~ ~

They made it to Danny and Emma’s without incident, much to Oliver’s surprise and relief. Ben’s efforts to sulk had lead to an accidental nap, which seemed to have improved his mood. It was a fun reunion for the brothers, who only saw each other a few times a year, and their respective partners got along like old friends.

The next morning, however, Ben’s bad attitude was back in full force. He was cranky about getting up for breakfast, so Oliver let him sleep; then he was mad that he had missed it. He stomped around the kitchen, looking for cereal and complaining loudly. He shut a cabinet door with particular ferocity, the bang echoing loudly through the house. Ben’s shoulders hunched and he froze, not wanting to turn around as he heard two doors swing open. He slowly peeked over his shoulder, then turned to see his boyfriend standing with his arms crossed in the guest room door, leveling a glare in his direction. Ben pushed his back against the counter and glanced upstairs, where Danny stood in his own bedroom door in a similarly intimidating position. “Sorry,” Ben mumbled. “Accident.”

Danny’s arms uncrossed as his hands found their ways to his hips and he repeated back, “Accident?” Ben looked up at him, attempting to look contrite, and watched his big brother hesitate uncharacteristically. Dan glanced at Oliver’s equally rigid figure, then gave Ben a look that made the younger man blush and look down. “No more accidents, please,” he said in a deceptively casual voice before turning around and shutting his bedroom door behind him.

Benjamin caught himself halfway through a sigh of relief before he remembered another pair of eyes were still watching him. “Sorry, Ollie,” he said sheepishly.

“I’m going to show you what sorry looks like if you keep it up” Oliver said sternly, keeping his gaze leveled at his boyfriend. When it became apparent that he was going to have to fix his meal with an audience, Ben turned slowly and opened the next cabinet door, very gently, finding the cereal and continuing his task. He was embarrassed to be overseen but grateful to have his boyfriend. On a good day with just Danny, Ben would be parked in a corner right now. On a bad day…

Ben squirmed a little at the thought, trying to pass it off as getting comfortable as he sat at the kitchen table. He relaxed a bit as he heard Oliver’s retreating footsteps, and he knew he was finally alone.

~ ~ ~

It could have ended there, but of course it didn’t. They had a lazy day, a nice dinner, and part of a fun round of mini-golf. Ben’s bad mood began to creep back in the further along the course they got, and as he began to lose. He made comments that were less funny and more snide, and his body language was aggressive as he took his shots across green felt fields full of miniature windmills and into the mouths of plaster alligators. He and Oliver were ahead of Emma and Danny, and the mood of the group was definitely taking a hit. Things came to a head at hole 17. They had caught up to the family ahead of them, and in his impatience, Ben had shot while one of their members was cutting across the green to catch up with her parents. His ball ricocheted off her foot, a product of bad timing that should have resulted in an agreeable do-over. Instead, Ben raised his small golf club up and rammed it back into the ground, hard, as he swore.

Oliver’s mouth dropped open and his eyebrows shot up; he quickly spun toward the other group and was grateful that the girl had simply apologized when the ball hit her foot and kept walking. The rest of them either didn’t hear or were politely ignoring the outburst. When he turned back around, it was to see Danny walking forward, eyes laser focused on his little brother. Though for a second he was sure that Dan was going to start wailing on Ben right there, Oliver was grateful things did not play out that way. He was already embarrassed enough at his boyfriend’s tantrum.

“Wait, Danny!” came Ben’s panicked voice. He was clearly worried about the same thing. Dan took his brother’s club and handed it and his own to Oliver without looking over. His attention was still completely on Ben, which was not something most people ever wanted to happen. He still didn’t speak as he grabbed the younger man’s right bicep with his own left hand and practically marched the boy off the course and toward the parking lot. Oliver shook his head and sighed, bending down to retrieve Ben’s ball. He and Emma exchanged awkward glances. She looked worried, and he guessed she was right to do so. All evidence suggested that Dan was going to tear Ben a new one as soon as they got home, and Oliver couldn’t blame him. He sighed again as he and Emma walked toward the hut to return their equipment. He should have just spanked his boyfriend at the airport.

~ ~ ~

The ride home was painfully silent. Emma and Oliver had approached the car slowly; they could see the silhouette of Dan in the front seat turned around, talking to the shadowy figure that was Ben, slumped in the back seat with his arms crossed, his entire body pushed back against the door. Suddenly shape one turned back around and the car came to life. Emma and Oliver hurried the last few steps, since it appeared the lecture was over, and loaded into the car. Oliver was a little worried about Ben, but his worry turned quickly back into aggravation. He thought the younger man might need some comfort or reassurance, but no, Benjamin’s face was once again defiant and pouty, and he refused to look anywhere besides out the window. Fine, he thought, be that way and see if I don’t spank you again before bed tonight.

Ben barely waited until the car was stopped before jumping out, not quite slamming his door and snatching the hidden key on the front porch and storming into the house, all while the three in the car watched. Emma made a small worried sound, and Danny moved his review mirror to look at Oliver as he spoke. “Are you going to sort him out?” he said bluntly.

Oliver stammered at first. The question caught him off-guard, but Dan watched the confusion turn to resolution as he answered. “I… well. Yeah, I think I will.” And then he unbuckled his seatbelt, got out the car and walked purposefully into the house.

Danny reached over and put a hand on Emma’s thigh and squeezed gently. “You okay?” he asked. She put her hand over his and returned the squeeze as she said with a small shrug and uncharacteristic nonchalance, “It’s about time.” Danny smiled, and they headed into the house.

~ ~ ~

Oliver wasted no time once he had made a decision. Whatever patience he’d possessed was long gone, and he felt empowered by Danny to do what he should have done days ago. He found Ben in the small bathroom attached to their room, drying his freshly washed face over the sink, clad only in dark red boxer-briefs as he prepared for bed. When he brought the towel down, he was startled to make eye contact in the mirror with Oliver, who had moved into the room quietly and now stood behind his boyfriend with his arms crossed. Ben’s mouth dropped open and he watched in horror as Oliver’s arms unfolded and he reached over, taking Ben’s bicep and pulling him toward the bed.

“You guys can’t just haul me around whenever you feel like it!” Ben yelled, resisting, but despite their relatively similar body types, his efforts were no use on the short walk. In no time, Oliver was perched on the edge of the bed, one foot propped on the wooden frame that held the mattress, elevating the knee over which he deposited his bratty boyfriend. Ben struggled the entire time, which was new for Oliver but didn’t slow him down. He had spanked his boyfriend a few times now, but only playfully or for something Ben himself felt guilty over. Now he was beginning to see that his boyfriend needed this physical reassurance even when the big stuff was taken care of. Well, thought Oliver as he ran an appreciative hand across the fabric of Benjamin’s underwear, I think I am up to the task.

He lifted his hand and began the spanking, bringing it down forcibly enough to rocket Ben’s body forward, even as he redoubled his efforts to rise. “Let me up!” he screeched.

“This is happening whether you make a big production of it or not, little boy. But Danny and Emma are plenty aware of your situation without the yelling.”

His words had the desired effect. He glanced down to see a tremendous blush rising on Ben’s face, and he was much less vocal as swats continued to reign down on his still wiggly behind. Oliver wasn’t holding back, perturbed as he was by the constantly ignored warnings and continued naughty behavior from his boyfriend since the beginning of their trip. Several minutes passed with just the steady sound of one young man’s hand landing rhythmically on the other’s bottom, accompanied by the occasional grunts and shifting of blankets as Ben continued to struggle quietly.

Almost to the moment, it occurred to Oliver that his arm was wearing out much earlier than he wanted, and there was a knock at the door. Two sharp raps echoed and both boys paused, Ben craning his neck awkwardly to look, his eyes wide. Oliver said “come in,” knowing it could only be one of two people. Ben groaned; it was Danny, carrying his hairbrush and handing it wordlessly to Oliver, who nodded his thanks.

Ben was too busy burying his face in his arms to watch Danny leave. Oliver rested his newly acquired implement on the red boxer briefs; the thin fabric did little to prevent the heat emanating from his boyfriend’s backside. He began to speak.

“It must be very embarrassing to have your brother see you getting your backside spanked by your boyfriend.” The remark caused a low moan from Ben, who was suddenly feeling very small. “Today, Benjamin, I was embarrassed. I was embarrassed by your behavior at mini-golf. I was embarrassed by your poor attitude on the way home. Especially because I know, and Danny and Emma know, what a charming and fun person you usually are.”

Oliver could feel Ben’s body tensing, and suspected that his boyfriend’s resistance wasn’t totally out of his system. Not wanting to give him a chance to get worked up again, Oliver picked up the brush, then hooked his thumbs under the elastic of Ben’s underwear and pulled them down. Ben did start to wiggle immediately, accompanied by an indignant “Oliver!”

Oliver began spanking again, and the sound of the wooden hairbrush on bare skin echoed in the room. “I think that’s enough talking, little boy. You know how unacceptable this attitude of yours has been and the behavior that came with it. Now we are at the consequences stage, and you have earned yourself a nice long spanking, so that’s what you’re going to get.”

“Ollieee…” came a pitiful response, and Oliver felt confident that the wiggles and kicks were almost involuntary now. He was going to have to invest in a hairbrush soon.

“You don’t need a hairbrush! I’ll be good!” said Ben. Oops, thought Oliver. Didn’t mean to say that out loud. He began to wrap up the spanking, concentrating on Ben’s sit-spots, making sure his entire bottom was a uniform shade of red, not much different than the underwear dangling around Ben’s knees. He slowed, then stopped, setting the hairbrush down and running his hand up and down his boyfriend’s back and bottom, inspecting and comforting at the same time. Eventually he pulled the young man up, reassuring him with forehead kisses and gentle touches, then guiding him to bed.

As he climbed into bed himself, Oliver felt strangely satisfied. He felt very confident that the next two days would be pleasant, and he liked knowing that he had take care of his partner. He pulled Ben close, smiling as they both drifted off to sleep.

~ ~ ~

The trip did finish well. Despite some initial protesting, Ben had returned his brother’s hairbrush with an apology for his behavior. He got off with barely any lecturing, for which he was grateful. He had always recognized his brother’s quiet alpha status, his ability to find what motivated people and use it to bring out their best. He was starting to see, too, that Danny had no stake in who handled the consequences or encouragements he thought necessary, at least for the people for whom he felt responsible. He just wanted them taken care of.

On the return flight, Oliver smiled and Benjamin scowled as they made their way through security. The oak hairbrush was tucked innocently into a side pocket of Oliver’s carry-on backpack, an unexpected souvenir. They went through without incident, and were soon homeward bound.

~ ~ ~

Back at home, Danny was straightening their room as Emma stripped the bed in the guest room. She was just tugging the fitted sheet off the far corner of the bed when she heard a call from upstairs.

“Emma, have you seen my hairbrush?”

With Big Brother’s Approval

Standard

Ben couldn’t stay still.  He sat on the couch.  He stood up again.  He sat on the loveseat.  He stood up again.  He sat at the dining room table.  He almost stood up again.  He heard keys in the door.  He froze.

Oliver walked in, oblivious to his boyfriend’s severe case of jitters.  He walked over to kiss Ben on the cheek, then headed straight for the fridge.  “Hey, babe.  How was your day?” he said, pulling a bottle of water out and going to join Ben at the table.  He finally looked at his boyfriend’s face as he sat down, and immediately his own face reflected concern.  “Hey hey, what’s wrong?”

“I did something really dumb, Ollie.”  Oliver’s eyebrows knit together.  Ben only ever called him “Ollie” when he felt scared or guilty.  “What’d you do, honey?”

“I forgot about a big project.  Like, really big.  For microeconomics.  It counts for a lot.  I don’t know how I forgot.  It just slipped my mind.”

Oliver, at 24, had graduated not long ago.  He gave his 22 year old boyfriend an appraising look, then asked “Was it in your planner?”

Benjamin bit his lip, glancing up and back down. “No.”  Oliver rolled his eyes in frustration- this had been an ongoing point of contention- then said, “Okay, well did you talk to your professor after class?”

Again Ben could barely bring himself to glance upward before he replied with another quiet “no.”  Oliver sighed, then said “okay, well have you called Dan?  He’ll tell you what to do.  He can’t fix it, but he can tell you the best way to approach your professor.”

Ben’s usually tan complexion visibly paled.  “I cannot tell Danny.”

Oliver’s eyebrows shot up at that.  “Your brother is a professor.  You are absolutely going to call him and see what he has to say.”

“I can’t, Ollie!” Ben cried, looking up.  “He’ll murder me.”

Oliver rolled his eyes again.  “You’re being dramatic.”

“You don’t know him.  He’d probably show up here after a phone call like that.”  Ben’s lip was between his teeth again, and Oliver watched as the young man shifted uncomfortably in his chair.  He’d noticed this before, other times when Ben felt guilty, or even occasionally when he was actually on the phone with Danny, though Oliver could never hear what was being said on the other end of the line.  Oliver had never met Ben’s older brother, but he’d heard plenty about him and “met” him through video chat.  His curiosity made him push.

“Let’s say Dan does catch a red-eye.  Let’s say he shows up tomorrow morning.  Then what?”

Ben shifted again and stared at the floor.  “Just nothing.  Forget it.”

Oliver wasn’t dumb; he had his suspicions.  He reached over and tilted Ben’s face up, forcing him to make eye contact.  “I will not.  What would Danny do, Benjamin?”

A pout began to take over Ben’s expression as he pulled his face away, staring silently off toward the living room, refusing to speak.  Oliver moved his hands to his boyfriend’s knees, deciding to take Ben’s silence as affirmation and making the leap.  “I know what I would do if my little sister called me, young man.”

Ben crossed his arms over his chest, risking a quick look at his boyfriend’s face before glaring defiantly back away.  It wasn’t that he’d never heard a note of authority in Oliver’s voice before, but this wasn’t a note- it was the whole damn orchestra.  His stomach was in knots as Oliver continued.  “What I would do, and what I have done, is make sure she had a hard time sitting comfortably for the next evening or two.  I would give her a solid reminder about why we have rules- for instance, why I made you buy a planner- as well as a good incentive to pay attention to them next time.  And I think,” and he turned Ben’s face toward him again, “that your big brother would do the same for you.  Am I right?” he asked, not unkindly.

Ben left his face in Oliver’s hand but his eyes were downcast as he whined, “Ollie…”

“Am I right?” he asked, more firmly.

Ben took a deep breath and then nodded, turning his wide blue eyes up to meet Oliver’s dark black ones.  Oliver nodded his head slowly and thoughtfully, reminding Ben so much of his brother that he automatically rolled his eyes.  That was a mistake.  Oliver’s eyebrows shot up immediately and Ben could practically see him make a decision.  Too late, he tried to stop the clear path they were on.  “Ollie don’t!  I’ll call Danny!  I’ll ask him what to do!”

Oliver, in the meantime, stood and moved his chair a bit away from the dining room table.  “Oh you’ll call Dan, alright.  You’ll call him as soon as I’ve finished giving you your spanking.”  Ben cringed at the word, but Oliver seemed unfazed as he held out his hand, palm up.  His boyfriend looked up, desperation written all over his face, but Oliver kept his expression expectant and after a minute, Ben reached out and gave him his hand.  Oliver held him for a beat, making sure that the pride he felt at his boyfriend’s acceptance was written on his own face, then gently tugged him up.  He took a seat, and though Ben seemed ready to dive across his lap, he stopped him.  “I don’t think so, sweetheart,” he said, guiding the younger man by his hips until he was standing in front of the chair.  Oliver began to undo the button on his boyfriend’s shorts, and soon they were in a puddle on the floor, one which Ben compliantly stepped out of, his cheeks blazing with embarrassment but his actions resigned.

Seconds later, Ben was across Oliver’s lap, feeling his boyfriend readjust his position to his satisfaction.  Oliver smoothed the cloth of Ben’s blue checkered boxers, then wrapped an arm around his boyfriend’s lanky frame.  He rested his right hand on the boy’s backside, just for a moment, as he contemplated his next move.  This felt right.  He’d always had a dominant streak, and it was something that worked well in their relationship.  Spanking and discipline seemed the next logical addition, at least to him.  He knew Ben agreed, or he wouldn’t be here now.  Benjamin wasn’t weak-willed by any stretch of the imagination.  He wanted this, too.

No, the real question in Oliver’s mind was not whether this was okay, but how to go about it.  He thought briefly about Dan, wondering if he should do his best to imitate the disciplinary experiences Ben had had so far.  He just as quickly discarded the idea.  They would figure the details out later, but trying to imitate Danny would just be setting himself up for failure.  Oliver hadn’t been exaggerating when he’d mentioned his little sister… sisters, actually.  He had two, both younger, and while their parents were attentive and present in their lives, they had also allowed their children to get away with anything and everything.  Oliver had the fortune (though he wouldn’t have called it that at the time) of experiencing firm guidance at the hands of his grandparents, immigrants who were as strict as they were loving.  They had passed away before his sisters were old enough to remember them.

But he remembered their lessons well, and assuming responsibility for his little sisters’ discipline had come as naturally as… well… as naturally as having his boyfriend across his lap now.  As that realization landed, he let go of the last of his hesitations.  He lifted his right hand and brought it forcefully down on Ben’s boxer-clad backside.  He did so again.  He quickly found himself getting into the familiar rhythm of spanking, alternating cheeks and thoroughly warming up his boyfriend’s bottom before pausing to gently tug his underwear down below his knees.  He was pleased at Ben’s compliance, and paused to rub his back and freshly bared rear end.  A moment later, though, he hugged his boyfriend’s body close and resumed spanking him, this time accompanying his swats with a lecture.

“We have talked about writing everything down, Ben.  Everything.  You have a million things going on, and it would be ridiculous to expect you to remember every project and date.  But that is why we got you a planner.  That is why I got you a planner, actually.  Which I expect you to use.  Because mistakes like this?  They are 100% avoidable.  So I expect you to avoid them.  Is that clear?”

Ben had begun to grunt and wiggle, particularly when Oliver used harder swats to emphasize some of the points he was making.  “Yes sir!” he said, sucking in his breath, struggling to keep his hands out of the way.  Just as his left foot kicked out, the spanking stopped.  Ben felt Oliver’s hand run up and down his back, and wondered if it was over.  His breath came out in a low moan when a second later he heard “Stand up for a minute, little one.”  He blushed hard at the moniker, standing and immediately covering himself as he felt his underwear drop from their perch on his knees to the floor.

Oliver walked into the kitchen, shuffled briefly through one of the drawers, and returned with a thick wooden spoon which made Ben immediately begin chewing his lower lip again.  He didn’t argue, though.  As sore as his bottom already was, he knew he’d earned more than a hand spanking for this.  Oliver had gone out of his way to help keep him organized, and Benjamin had ignored his advice one too many times.  He lay quickly back across his boyfriend’s lap when asked to do so.  He felt the smooth wood resting on his hot backside and then the sharp sting of it coming down, immediately resuming the same rhythm that Oliver’s hand had been in.

Ben’s feet kicked and little yelps escaped from his mouth, though he tried to stay still.  Danny tended to use implements to drive a point home at the end of a spanking, using the wood to make sure a lesson stuck around for a day or two.  Oliver wasn’t putting all of his strength behind these swats but they were so stingy and so fast that Ben couldn’t think about anything except how much it hurt.

He was breathing heavily when the spanking finally stopped, and gratefully clambered onto his boyfriend’s lap when he felt himself being tugged up.  Danny offered him plenty of comfort after a spanking, but he found himself reacting differently in the arms of his boyfriend.  He clung to him, arms wrapped around his neck and face buried in his shoulder as Oliver held him tightly in their awkward spot on the dining room chair.  A few minutes later, Ben unwound himself and looked expectantly into his boyfriend’s face, waiting for his next command.  Oliver reached a hand behind Ben’s neck and pulled him forward, kissing him, then slid his hand down to pat the boy’s bottom gently.  “Time for you to make a phone call, cariño.”

Ben let his face fall into a pout, and Oliver couldn’t help but to let himself be delighted in it.  He found this side of Ben so charming and sweet that he almost regretted not having discovered it earlier.  He smiled, but made to stand, which forced his boyfriend up as well.  He watched the younger man pick up his boxers and slip them on, grinning even more broadly at the grimace on the poor boy’s face.  He went into the kitchen with the spoon, intending to wash it.  He cocked his head as he changed his mind, decided instead to place it in their bedroom.  He had a feeling this would not be the last time it would be repurposed.

After pulling his underwear up, Ben made his way into the living room, seeking the comfort of their big white couch.  He pulled a floral cushion onto his lap, then fiddled with his phone until he heard Oliver re-enter the living room.  He couldn’t help glancing up one last pleading time, but Oliver just raised his eyebrows expectantly.  Ben sighed and hit the video call button on his phone.  He tried not to look unhappy when his brother answered after just a few seconds, smiling from behind his office desk.  “Hey kiddo!  What’s up?  How are you?”

Ben smiled back; he couldn’t help it.  He loved his brother.  “I’m great!  Things are good.  Really good,” he said, before hearing the distinct sound of his boyfriend clearing his throat across the room.  He gulped and frowned, then said hesitantly, “well mostly good.”  He could see the concern wash over his brother’s face as Dan stopped shuffling papers and gave Ben his full attention.  “Hey, what’s going on?  Are you okay?”  Ben’s face went an even deeper shade of red as he stammered, “I’m fine.  Oliver’s fine.  I just… I have this little… not little… I have this thing at school…”

When he finally got through his explanation, his brother was eyeing him sternly.  He had to resist the urge to move his face away from the screen.  He could see Danny working himself up into full lecture mode, and he looked desperately over at Oliver, who looked back unsympathetically.  He didn’t want to be in trouble twice!  His boyfriend merely pointed at the phone in his hand.  Ben rolled his eyes, then remembered that he was face to face with Daniel, whose eyes looked ready to bulge out of his head. “No!  Danny no, I wasn’t rolling my eyes at you!!!” he nearly yelled.  “Oliver’s just…” and he groaned in frustration.  He made his eyes wide and tried to convey everything he wanted Dan to know in a look, but his big brother just stared back, waiting for an explanation.

Benjamin spared a quick glare in his boyfriend’s direction; Oliver was flat out grinning, amused by his boyfriend’s squirming.  Ben took a deep breath and then said quietly to the camera, “I already got in trouble.”

“You what?  At school?”

“Noooo… at home.  With Oliver.”  Ben didn’t know how he got the words out; he had never been so embarrassed in his life.  Danny scrutinized him a moment, then understanding dawned on his face.  “Ohhh, I see.  Oliver spanked you?” he asked, as if he were asking about a trip to the grocery store.  Benjamin nodded, then mumbled “yessir” when it became apparent that Dan wanted a verbal affirmation.  His brother nodded at this information, then said shortly, “good.”

From his spot in the love seat nearby, Oliver let out a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding.  He was glad to hear the approval in Daniel’s voice.  He liked the man, a lot, and knew how much his boyfriend adored him.  He was also pleased to hear Dan move on immediately to advice and potential solutions to Oliver’s school issues.  No more scolding or fussing.  He felt very validated.  As the conversation wrapped up some thirty minutes later, the boys having moved on to other topics, Ben summoned him over with an open arm to say hello, having seemingly forgotten about any awkwardness from earlier.  Oliver hadn’t, though he tried his best to be nonchalant as he sat on the couch next to his boyfriend and smiled at Danny.

Daniel gave him an appraising look through, one so brief that he wouldn’t have caught it if he wasn’t looking.  Then a nod- Ben was right, the man nodded at everything- and a smile, and the conversation continued as normal.  Oliver relaxed into his boyfriend’s embrace, happy to be exactly where he was.

The Dent

Standard

Danny pulled into the driveway of the small split-level home he shared with his girlfriend, Emma.  Instead of shutting off the engine, though, he put the car into reverse and backed up slowly, until the rear of his car was almost in the road again.  He put the car in park.  He let his hands rest on the dash as he leaned forward.  He stared at the blue Pontiac by which he had been briefly parked.

The back driver side bumper had a soccer ball sized dent in it now, one which certainly hadn’t been there this morning when he’d left for work.  One which shouldn’t be there now, because a certain girlfriend of his was supposed to be grounded.

He slowly pulled back up, this time parking as usual and stepping out of his own car.  He walked casually back around, surveying the damage closely.  Cosmetic, he decided.  That was good.  His girl wasn’t hurt.  He figured as much.  He was certain he would have gotten a phone call.  Danny felt his face harden as he slipped his hands into his pockets and circled the blue car, checking for any other damage.  He should have gotten a phone call regardless.

Satisfied that he had gleaned all he could from the car, he grabbed his briefcase from the backseat of his own vehicle and headed toward the front door.  He set his briefcase and keys on the kitchen table, and walked back toward their bedroom, loosening his tie on the way.  His steps into the room were slow and deliberate.  He paused by the bed, turned, sat, and waited.

It took almost four minutes of silence before he heard a soft voice from underneath the bed.  “Are you mad at me?”

He wondered briefly how long she’d been there this time, feeling guilty as she listened for the jangle of his keys in the door.  Not too long, he hoped.  She hated to feel like he was upset with her.  Especially when she deserved it.  “I’m not mad at you, sweetheart.  But you better believe that I’m not happy.  Come out here and talk to me.”

“I can’t!” she said emphatically, and he heard her scoot farther back, away from the edge of the bed.  His mouth became a hard straight line, and he decided immediately that he would not be as patient with her nervousness as he usually was.  “One,” he said sternly, and he both heard and felt her scramble beneath him.

“Danny don’t!!!”

“Two,” he said, unaffected by her pitiful cry.  He watched as her hands appeared, flung outward to lay flat on floor as she pulled herself out from under the bed, sliding ungracefully across the wood.  “Three,” he said as she began to stand, and suddenly she was being hauled across his lap as she yelled “Danny wait!”  He kept her flailing hands at bay with his right hand as he began to spank her with his left, putting plenty of force behind it as swats landed one after another on her dark blue jean shorts.  “Danny, please!”

He stopped as abruptly as he’d started, pulling her up and sliding her over to stand directly in front of him.  Her hands went immediately to her backside, but he raised his eyebrows at her and she jerked them forward again as if her hot bottom had burned her fingertips.  She let her hands linger at her sides, clearly desperate to rub the sting away but smart enough not to.  She shifted her weight from foot to foot as she waited for him to speak.  He looked so serene that it was almost out of place, even in his professional clothing: his tie loose, his shirt collar unbuttoned, his posture relaxed as he leaned forward and rested his hands on his thighs.

“Explain.”

Emma’s eyes welled with tears that she rapidly and unsuccessfully tried to blink away.  “I can’t,” she finally whispered.

Danny’s face looked briefly surprised, but his next words felt almost like a dare.  “You can’t?”

“I don’t… there isn’t a good explanation.”

“Explain it anyway.”

She rung her hands and looked at him pleadingly, but she received only his cool gaze looking back at her.  She could practically see the clock counting down behind his brown eyes.  He wouldn’t wait forever, and her bottom already hurt from the brief but harsh spanking a moment ago.  Finally she managed, “I had to return some books to the library.”

It hadn’t been enough.  His arm snaked out to grab hers and once again she found herself upended, his hard hand landing on her already pink bottom.  She shrieked as he spanked her, but he was immune to her cries.  When he finished this time, she was breathing heavily, and he didn’t let her up.  Instead he rested his dominant hand on her throbbing bottom and his right hand casually across her back, fingers dangling alongside her waist.  “You seem to be having a lot of trouble recalling some of the details of your afternoon, Emma Grace, so I am going to help you get through this explanation.  But it is going to cost you.”

He reached beneath her, fumbling at the button of her jeans for just a moment before freeing it, and then her, of their trappings.  She shifted her body and helped as best she could, though she dreaded the loss of the thick denim.  She tried not to protest as her underwear followed, but a small moan of embarrassment escaped her.  Danny returned his arms to their previous spots; he let his left hand glide gently across her hot bottom now, a tender gesture that happened absentmindedly when he held her in this position.

“Are you supposed to leave the house today?”

“No sir,” she replied miserably.

“Because?”

“Because I’m grounded.”

“Because…?”

She shut her eyes at this question.  She hated being grounded, hated having to talk about it, and especially hated having to go over it again after the lecture she had already received.  She knew better than to push her luck, though, and despite the redoubled throb of her bottom, Danny had been right– she found it easier to speak in this position.  “I’m grounded because I volunteered to take extra shifts at work when I already had a busy week scheduled and because I haven’t been getting enough sleep as it is.”

He nodded thoughtfully above her head, though she couldn’t see it.  “So there is no confusion about how today should have gone, Emma?”  She sighed miserably.  “No sir.  I just didn’t think.  I had some books that were due and I just jumped in the car.  I realized it before I even buckled my seat belt.  But then…”

Danny could hear the shame of her decision to disobey him pouring out of her, and he knew that tears were making their ways down her pretty cheeks, even if he couldn’t see them.  He gave her bottom an unsympathetic squeeze.  “Keep going.”

“It’s just a few minutes away…” she began, and he felt the slight offer of an excuse.  His hand on her bottom stilled, and then lifted.  She tensed and yelled “it wasn’t a good reason it wasn’t a good reason it wasn’t–” and then the spanking had resumed, and his hand was bouncing, thudding rapidly, delivering hard swats that propelled her small body forward upon every impact.  He didn’t scold her.  He didn’t need to.  His hand did all the talking, at least until he stopped spanking and moved her legs, letting her body slide down so she was kneeling between his knees.  She let her hands dance around her swollen backside but didn’t touch it this time.  She kept herself from resting on the heels of her feet; her thighs hurt with the exertion after only a minute, but it was better than letting her bottom come in contact with anything right this moment.

Danny took her chin, brushing some wayward tears away with his thumb.  “In a few minutes, you are going to walk over there and get the hairbrush from your dresser drawer.”  He let that sink in for a moment, watching her eyes squeeze shut and reopen.  “First, I want to know about the dent.”  She took a shuddering breath and looked up at him, eyes round and fearful and innocent.

“It happened while I was in the library.  It was only for a few minutes, but a man was walking to the car beside mine when I got there.  I think he hit it.  It was a blue truck.  I don’t remember the model.  They have security cameras and the police are going to be in touch later.  I left my contact information.”

For the first time since he’d gotten home, Dan smiled.  And even with her sore fanny, her wet cheeks, and the promise of more to come, his smile made Emma smile.  “Good girl,” he said.  “Very good.  Those are all the right steps.”  He leaned down to kiss her forehead, and she wrapped her arms around his waist.  She used to balk when he praised her for doing normal adult things on her own– “Everyone has to deal with this stuff, Danny.  You don’t get a reward for being a grown-up.  You just do it.” — but after a particularly harrowing afternoon at the DMV of all places, he’d finally gotten her to see that he wasn’t being condescending.  He pointed to several people they’d watched struggle through the tedium of license renewals and car registrations and tax forms.  “Look, sweetheart… she deserves a cheerleader.  So does he.  So does that guy.  So does that woman running customer service.”  She’d leaned against him, listening to his quiet voice amid the crowd.  “We all have to do it, yes, but it’s a daily miracle that we get through it.  So let me be proud of you.  Okay?”

Now, he leaned back, untangled her arms, and raised his eyebrows expectantly.  She closed her eyes for a brief second, then stood, stepping out of her underwear and walking past the shorts she had long since kicked off, to grab the wooden hairbrush from its spot in her dresser.  She brought it back quickly, eyes downcast, and held it to out Danny.  He let her stand there for a minute as he unbuttoned the cuff of his sleeve, rolling it up slowly.  Then he took the brush with his left hand and took her wrist with his right, pulling her across one knee, letting her torso rest on the bed while her legs draped around his thigh.  She immediately grabbed the comforter, thinking briefly that it was more aptly name that most people realized.  She felt his arms encircle her waist and then a blaze of pain erupted on her right sit-spot.  Emma screamed, but the next swat was just as hard and in the exact same spot.  Next came two on her left sit-spot.  Repeat.  Repeat again.  At the twelfth spank, she heard him toss the brush on the bed, and finally she was pulled up into his arms.

The rest of the evening passed with forehead kisses, back rubs, and the occasional squeak whenever Emma’s backside happened to make contact with anything.  She felt better, though.  Better than she had since the moment she’d heard the click of her seat belt, better than the entire short-lived disaster of an errand, better than the time she’d spent worried and nervous under the bed.  Everything was okay now, and though she would never say it aloud, a sore bottom seemed a small price to pay for this sort of happiness.

What Not to Say (in front of Danny)

Standard

Danny put both hands on the table and leaned in toward them. “Unless you’re looking for a pair of sore backsides before supper, I suggest you quiet down and let me get this finished. I’m not going to ask again.” He turned back towards the office/spare bedroom as Emma’s eyes rounded and she felt her face grow warm. Danny had never given any hints about that part of their relationship in front of anyone, no matter what was going on in their home! And in front of his brother! What would he think if he knew… she risked a quick glance sideways at her new companion. Ben seemed to be as flustered as her was, his cheeks a bright pink and his eyes fixed blankly on the table. Danny had threatened both of them. Did Danny still…?

No way. Emma knew that Dan and his younger brother were really close, and she’d heard her boyfriend get on to him a few times over the telephone about school work and other little things, but nothing to imply that he still… And besides, Ben was twenty-two… of course, she was twenty-two it didn’t stopped Danny from busting her tail whenever he felt like it.

Ben looked up, catching her eye, and they both looked quickly away. As the silence grew deafening, Ben grabbed a pen and scrawled on the margin of Emma’s magazine. “Does Danny…?” She nodded slowly, took the pen, and wrote “you?” Ben nodded solemnly, took back the pen and smiled a little as he wrote “he’s got hands like canoe oars!” Emma barely suppressed her giggle, which grew as Ben began to draw a portrait of his brother, complete with paddled hands and an ass’s head. Soon they were cutting up again. Ben had come to visit them in California for the first time since Dan and Emma had moved in together; he was in his last year of school in Atlanta, where he was getting degree in graphic design. Ben and Emma had hit it off immediately, teasing each other and laughing as if they were long lost siblings themselves.

Danny’s threat was forgotten as Ben began to tickle Emma and she screeched and began hurling anything within her grasp toward her attacker. It was forgotten, that is, until they heard the scrape of the office chair. They were immediately quiet, too little too late, of course, as Dan appeared in the doorway. He leaned against the framed, surveying their guilty faces as they sneaked glances his way. “Come here.”

Slowly they both scooted away from the table and shuffled his direction, stopping in front of him with their eyes on their shoes and their hands behind their backs. “Ben,” and his brother’s head snapped up, “take this,” and Dan handed over his debit card, “and Emma,” now her eyes on him, too, “take these,” and he handed her the car keys, “and go get a pizza.” He fought to keep his face firm as he watched their slow smiles start and their bodies relax. “And if you’re not gone the better part of an hour, you’ll both sleep on your stomachs tonight!” he said with mock severity. They didn’t need to be asked twice, making it out the door in record time as Dan turned back towards the desk and his unfinished stack of papers to grade.

***

That evening found them in the local pub, sitting round a small table close the a little stage where local musicians played the usual classic rock covers. After two pitchers of beer between them, Ben and Emma where shouting requests and singing along, Danny laughing as he sipped his second mugful, having been designated the driver before hand. Danny laughing, that is, until Emma noticed an ex-classmate of hers and decided to point her out to Ben, who immediately proceeded to give his critiques on everything from the girl’s dangerously high heels to the beefy boyfriend she had on her arm. Drunk and giggly, Ben began a running commentary on the patrons of the bar, Emma egging him on as he got louder and louder and ignored every warning signal Danny sent their way. Ben finally snapped something about a woman sitting at the table to the right, loud enough that they all turned his direction as he slurred his catty remarks about the lady’s blouse being see-through. Danny was up in a heartbeat, apologizing to the woman and her bigger-than-average husband, glaring at his brother and girlfriend and their sloppy unapologetic grins and berating himself for not dragging them out five minutes earlier.

“It wasn’t a big deal, Danny, and besides, it was a slutty shirt,” Emma said as they trekked down the street towards the car a few blocks away. Danny took a deep breath kept walking, ready for the pair of them to be sober so he could make clear exactly what he thought of their impromptu “What Not to Wear” mock-up. Ben was stumbling behind Emma, his face a bit pale as the last couple drinks entered his system. Emma began to mumble again, and Danny turned sharply, her nearly running into him, and brought his face very close to hers. “Emma Grace, I am three seconds from–”

And that’s when Ben stumbled over and released the contents of his stomach on the sidewalk at their feet.

***

Emma’s eyes opened abruptly and she was awake, although she remained very still until she realized that the other side of the bed was cold; Danny must be awake and moving. She relaxed a moment, physically at least. It really wasn’t a good sign. She tended to be an early riser, while Dan was a big fan of sleeping in on Saturdays… her watch said it was just now eight, and they hadn’t even left the bar until almost 3… and if Danny was already up… oh boy. This was bad. This was very bad.

She saw a big glass of orange juice and a pair of Advil sitting on the night stand beside her, but she told herself that they didn’t look appealing and stubbornly closed her eyes again. Thirty minutes later she was still trying desperately to fall back asleep when Danny came back in the bedroom. “I know you’re awake,” he said from somewhere above her, “and I don’t know why that juice is untouched.” She remained perfectly still. “Ben should be awake by the time you’re out of the shower. I’ll see you in the living room.” As he shut the door, she groaned inwardly and began to sit up…***

In the guest bedroom, Ben woke with a mild headache and an unexplained sense of doom. Unexplained until he took in his surroundings, the corner desk and the flowery curtains: Danny’s guest room. “Shit,” he mumbled, turning to find the glass of juice he knew would be sitting on the night stand. He vaguely remembered downing several glasses of water and a couple Advil before being put to bed. Ohhh, a little voice inside his head whispered, last night wasn’t just a regular night of drinking with Danny putting you to bed… big brother was mad. Just how mad, Ben couldn’t remember– he could barely remember getting home last night– but he had an uneasy feeling that maybe he had something to do with it.

***

Emma walked timidly towards the couch where Ben sat, looking miserable in his loose plaid pajama pants, eyes puffy from the drinking and hair still mussed. Dan wasn’t in the room, but she guessed he wouldn’t be long in coming. Sure enough, he walked in carrying a chair from the kitchen a few seconds later and planted himself across from the 22 year-olds.

“Any reason I shouldn’t wear the two of you out?”

Protests, blaming their actions on the alcohol, died in Emma’s throat. She’s learned early on in their relationship Danny’s feelings about that old excuse. “If you’re old enough to drink, you’re old enough to know your limits.” She shook her head miserably alongside Ben.

“Right then,” and his damned decisive nod, “Emma, you’re up first.” She walked to his side, put her hands to her waist band and looked at him pleadingly as she glanced at his brother on the couch. He’d never so much as threatened a spanking in front of anyone else, and now she was about to be on the receiving end with an audience. Her stomach tightened and a lump rose in her throats as he simply raised his eyebrows at her and gave a small unsympathetic shrug of his shoulders. With shaking hands she dropped her pajama bottoms. As she was trying to work up the nerve to take down her white panties, Danny took hold of wrist and pulled her across his lap. She barely had time for to be thankful before the first smack landed solidly on her backside. She managed a stoic thirty seconds of his rapid spanks before the squirming began; another minute and her hand shot back of its own accord. Danny snatched it up quickly and pinned it to the small of her back without breaking his rhythm. He paused after another moment, observing the pink blush escaping the outer edges of her underwear. He grabbed the top, pulling them down to the top of her thighs, ignoring Emma’s mumbled “Oh, nonononono…” and the tensing of her body as his hand came down, leaving a flicker of white before descending again. Emma’s legs began to kick as her tongue tripped over apologies, not exactly asking him to stop (she knew he wouldn’t until he was good and ready) but offering everything she could by way of penance. Finally the spanking slowed as he began to talk. “Why am I unhappy with you, Emma?”

“Because I was rude and- and mean” came her choked reply.

“And who is responsible for your behavior?” he asked, still spanking her very dark pink bottom.

“I am!”

“Even when you’re drinking?”

“Yes siiiir!” she cried, feeling ashamed. Daniel briefly increased the force behind his swats, making Emma shriek, before slowing and finally stopping.

Emma cried quietly as she lay limply across his knees. He rubbed her back for a moment, listening to her ragged breath and letting his simple question rest. He eased her to her feet, kissing her hand tenderly and giving her a gentle nudge back toward the couch where Ben sat, looking paler now than he had last night. He had a blank look on his face, eyes on the ceiling, evidence of his failed attempt to tune out the spanking of his semi-sister-in-law. Danny called his name sharply, and Ben moved quickly to his brother’s side, not nearly as hesitant about dropping his shorts as Emma had been. Of course, he’d been on the receiving end of Dan’s discipline more times than he cared to remember, including several times right in front of (and often alongside) his friends and playmates growing up. Before the spanking even started Ben grabbed the lower rung of the kitchen chair, gripping it tightly, knowing he would struggle to keep them there. And so the spanking began, Danny’s rapid slaps turning his little brother’s backside a bright pink before whisking down his briefs and turning the skin a deeper shade of red. As with Emma, he stopped after a minute and rested his arms on Ben’s back for a moment, except he didn’t move his brother’s shorts back up. Not yet. “Benjamin, I hope you’re learning more at school than how to judge your peers. I know- or I hope, anyway- that you were raised to be a much better person than you showed yourself to be last night.” Ben mumbled his yessir, tears forming in his eyes. “Emma, go get the hairbrush.” At that Ben began to squirm fiercely, making protests until Danny tightened his grip around the young man’s waist and delivered half a dozen stinging slaps to his upper thighs. Emma hadn’t moved, except to open her mouth in disbelief. “Listen here, young lady. You had no problem pushing Ben last night to your amusement. You contributed to his behavior. You may contribute to his punishment.”

With a look of horror Emma rose and fetched the round oak hairbrush from its place in their bedroom. She forced herself to bring it back, motivated with the fear that she might make things worse for Ben if she didn’t do as she was told. Danny tapped it lightly on Ben’s red rear end before bringing it forcefully down twelve slow and solid times, Ben bucking and Emma wincing with each loud smack. Finally Danny allowed Ben up and back on the couch, running a hand through his brother’s hair affectionately before standing up and carrying the chair back to the kitchen, returning a moment later and offering a hand each to the two on the couch. “Back to bed, kids. You still only got about 5 hours of sleep.” They allowed themselves to be tugged up, and Danny pulled Benjamin right into a hug; he held his little brother tightly for a minute before sending him back toward the guest room and turning his attention to Emma. As much as Emma hated spankings and as much as she tried to talk herself into a good sulk afterward toward her brute of a boyfriend, she never could. Instead she became clingy, wanting to mold herself to Danny for hours after the punishment. He kissed her head, then walked back to the bedroom, where she spooned against him and squeezed his fingers in her own until they both fell asleep.

Statistically Speaking

Standard

Emma loathed Thursdays. Her friends complained about Mondays– they hated the early morning return to campus after a weekend of late night parties and sleepy afternoons, visits home and food that didn’t come out of a box. Emma found the return to school refreshing, though. It wasn’t that she didn’t enjoy the break. She just liked the structure, the professors, and, most of all, her classes. As a senior Philosophy major, her courses were difficult but full of discussion, always offering something new.

While other students panicked at their increased workloads, Emma thrived. Thursdays, though– Thursdays were slow. After a three hour lecture in the morning, Emma was done for the day. For most of her college career, she’d held a full time job in addition to her classes. When she’d started dating Danny two years ago, he’d had some rather strong opinions about that.  He had rather strong opinions about lots of things, she thought, remembering their first semester together.

*     *     *

Dr. Daniel Strauss became an adjunct professor in the spring of Emma’s sophomore year. Although she disliked math, her degree required a statistics course, so she’d ended up in his packed 101 session. Already in advanced classes, Emma scoffed at the idea of taking an intro class; having a teacher only a few years older than herself did nothing to improve her opinion. From her seat in the second row, she took in his laid back stance and youthful appearance. He seemed easy going, making small talk with those who had arrived a few minutes early. He was only twenty-seven, having graduated early with his bachelor’s degree and heading straight to back to school for his doctorate.  It was his first year actually leading a class, but he seemed comfortable in the role. While other girls batted their eyes at his sun-bleached hair and lanky frame, swooning over him, Emma slumped in her seat and prepared for an hour of doodling in her notebook.

While she remained attentive in her other classes, she skipped the math course as often as she went, blowing off the lectures and zoning out when she did decide to show up. Her first test came as quite a shock; she spent the first few minutes staring blankly at the pages, face flushing as she realized how little of the material she knew. Affecting a cheerful demeanor, she quickly answered as best she could, turning in her test first and whizzing out of the classroom with what she hoped was the air of a woman with things are her mind much more important than a failed math test.

Her attendance afterward became much more steady, but the material increased in difficulty and she was forever playing catch-up thanks to her weeks of negligence. After bombing the second exam, Emma could barely contain her panic as she bustled out of the room, smile firmly plastered under wet brown eyes. As he returned the tests, Dr. Strauss made the same sort of speech as he had after the first– praising the high marks, berating those he knew hadn’t studied, and offering repeatedly to help anyone who needed it. His office hours were posted on his door, his email address was listed on the school’s web site and his phone number was on the syllabus. Emma, however, was much better at avoidance than she was at math, and managed to keep her eyes firmly locked on her suddenly interesting text book as he repeated his offer at the end of class.  It was her own fault for skipping in the first place, she berated herself harshly, so it was up to her to dig her way back out.

After dropping a stack of papers at the end of class one Wednesday afternoon, Emma found herself alone with the professor after a shortened lecture.

“Emma,” came his voice from the desk in corner of the room. Startled, she almost dropped her papers again as she looked up. That he was even aware of her name came as a shock. “Emma,” he repeated, “why are you failing this class?”

Put off by his bluntness, she stuttered an excuse, feeling her face flush and rushing to get to the door.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t catch that,” he voice came again, ignoring her attempt at escape. “Why are you failing this class? I’ve talked to your other professors. You never miss their classes. Your records are outstanding. So, please, tell me why.”

This time it came out as more of a command than a question, causing Emma to make the mistake of looking up into his clear dark eyes, and this time she did drop her papers again, eyes swimming as the panic she’d held in check since that first test day boiled over and threatened to spill down her cheeks. “I can’t… I just…” she stumbled, struggling to suppress her emotions, growing even more upset as waves of guilt washed over her. Closing her eyes, she took several deep breaths, shoving everything back inside and composing herself. “I’m sorry,” and now she spoke clearly, fully in control once again. “I’ll do better.”

“What’s your schedule after this class, Emma?” Dr. Strauss asked as she again walked resolutely towards the door.

“I have another class after this Mondays and Wednesdays; on Fridays I have a two hour break before work,” she replied, too intent on leaving to wonder why he asked.

“Excellent,” came his voice as she maneuvered past the last few desks, speaking just as calmly as if she’d still been looking at him. “We can study an hour on Friday afternoons. Bring your notes.”

“Yes, sir,” she squeaked as she finally made it through the doorway. What just happened? she wondered as she found her car, opened the door and tossed her books into the passenger seat. Can he even require me to stay after?  And where had that sir come from?  Her face flushed to think about that silly affirmative.  Required or not, though… embarrassed or not… she knew she would be there.

“Where are your notes?” Dr. Strauss asked as he walked towards her desk two days later. Emma had sat awkwardly, pretending to organize her things as the rest of the students filed out. Before she could hide the notebook she carried, he was over her shoulder. “Hmm. These look like song lyrics, a rather lopsided heart, and the loveliest E I’ve ever seen. However, none of it looks like statistics.” Emma felt her face flush as she fumbled with her pen. “I don’t usually take notes.” He glanced sharply over to her before maneuvering a desk catty-corner and taking a seat. “Well, it’s time to start. As long as we’re meeting, I retain the right to see your notes whenever I ask. There will be consequences for empty pages. Is that clear?”

“Yessir,” she mumbled, flipping to a blank page and opening her text book. He nodded once, re-assumed his friendlier attitude, and began the lesson.

Things went well for the next several weeks, until Emma was nearly even with the rest of the class. She was plenty smart enough for the material; it had just been a matter of intimidation with a subject she’d given up on too early and her ego getting in the way.  Now that she was caught up and comfortable, the lessons went quickly. She even found herself zoning out again, scribbling in the margins of her binder. She’d become less intimidated by Dr. Strauss as well; he made her feel at ease, never reminding her of her past absences.  They still studied together, but it wsa fun and silly, and most days didn’t feel like work.  She forgot he was still paying attention– close attention.

Friday afternoon came again. She turned her book to the day’s notes, carefully taken for their study session.  They’d become so routine, and he hadn’t asked to see them in weeks, but she still made sure she had something written down for the days they did meet.  He didn’t move from his desk when the last student left. “Show me your notes for this week.” She hesitated, since he usually came to sit near her, then brought him the day’s pages of numbers and formulas. “This is today’s lesson. Show me Wednesday’s.” Emma felt a flush rising from her neck to her face as she flipped the pages back, revealing a few scattered notes amid a sea of curly-cued letters and doodles. She suddenly felt very conscious of how awkward she felt, standing in front of his desk in the front of the recently filled classroom.  “And Monday’s?” Her hands became sweaty as she flipped to pages filled with simple butterflies surrounding illegible scribbles supposedly copied from the board. Dr. Strauss moved his eyes from the paper to her downcast face for only a moment. “Right then,” again with his one resolute nod, “we’ll continue today’s lesson in my office. Follow me.”

He stood, his chair chair scraping the ground, and walked toward the door.  Emma could hardly breath, but she couldn’t help but follow.

*     *     *

Being an adjunct professor doesn’t afford one many favors, and Dr. Strauss had been stuck in a basement room with one other adjunct who didn’t have classes on Fridays. He shot Emma a quick glance, a small request for permission before shutting the door behind them. He gestured for her to have a seat, although he chose to lean against the desk in front of her instead of blockading himself behind it. “If I recall correctly,” and his tone betrayed no trace of doubt, “I promised that there would be consequences, should you choose to fall behind again. Is that correct?”

“Yessir,” she whispered. Again, that nod, and he squatted in front of her, balancing on the balls of his feet so they were eye level, obligating her to meet his gaze. “As I thought. Well, you did not, it appears, remain attentive, and now it is time for a reminder. You are going to stand in that corner, right there, for the next fifteen minutes, and think about what a waste of time and money this class is if you choose not to pay attention and complete the work properly. Then I am going to spank you, and then we are going to discuss this week’s lessons.”

He maintained eye contact for several moments as she worked to find a response. Then he took her hand and pulled her gently from the seat, walking her to the corner by the door. Mutely she allowed herself to be guided. She found her nose in the wall, and the professor’s voice her ear, “The door is unlocked.” He squeezed her hand gently and went to his desk. She stood frozen, heart beating in her ears and palms clammy. “The door is unlocked.” Well… he had offered her the option of leaving. So she would leave, she decided. Only she didn’t. She spent most of the fifteen minutes silently willing her feet to step toward the door, but she couldn’t bring herself to do it.  He had taken so much time with her, put in so much effort, and part of her wanted to be punished for not living up to his expectations or her own standards.  His carefully chose words as he scolded her echoed… “choose to fall behind…” “choose not to pay attention…”  Closing her eyes, and mumbling a silent prayer to anyone listening, she made another choice.

All too soon she was called from her corner.  Dr. Strauss took the seat she had used earlier, pulling her between his knees and looking up at her face. “Have you been spanked before?” he asked, and she nodded. “Recently?” and this time she shook her head, no, no not recently, she hadn’t been spanked since she was six years old, but he didn’t ask about that, he just continued, “Alright. I’m going to take down your jeans, and then I’m going to begin.”

Within a minute, he was doing just that- his hand descending over and over again on her blue panties, her squirming and gasping for air after the first volley. She tried her hardest to remain quiet, but little squeals escaped as his hand found its mark. Her hands spasmed in front of her, sometimes grabbing the chair and then touching the floor, finally settling in a vice grip around the professor’s leg. As her backside’s new red blush began to escape the line of her underwear, her eyes suddenly began to fill and hot tears to run down her cheeks.  A moment later, Dr. Strauss scooped her up and held her head to his chest, stroking her hair and mumbling soothing nonsense words until she calmed down. She clung to him like Velcro, a reaction he hadn’t anticipated but didn’t mind at all.

*    *    *

He didn’t check her notes again the rest of the semester. He was confident that there was no need, and he was right, of course. With his help, she had passed the freshman level class at which she had turned up her nose originally; Daniel couldn’t quite hide his pleasure when her curly brown head popped into his office the first Friday of the next semester. With no more math to study, they went out for coffee… and then they started going to dinner.  And slowly their relationship evolved– and she didn’t hear his opinions on being a work-a-holic until much, much later.