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Low Tolerance

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“Oliver. Oliver. Hey. Can you hear me?”

”Emma? Hey, what’s up?” Oliver pulled the phone away from his ear and looked at the time. It was close to 11pm. “Everything okay?”

”I don’t know. Is it? I can’t go outside and check.”

Oliver furrowed his brow, trying to make sense out of what his friend was saying. Before he could respond she was talking again.

”Oliver. Oliver! Shhhh.”

”I wasn’t saying anything. Emma, are you… are you high right now?”

She errupted into giggles, but they stopped almost as soon as they started. “Oliver. Can you come over here?”

He rolled his eyes, but said “Yeah, I’ll be there in just a minute. Don’t go anywhere.”

”I’m not! And Oliver! Don’t tell Danny.”

”Just sit tight. I’ll be right there.”

Oliver put his phone in his pocket then stood for a minute, hands on his hips as he thought about what he should do. Danny and Ben were out of town, visiting their parents for a long weekend. He walked to the bedroom and threw together an overnight bag. Might as well see what was happening before he made any decisions.

~   ~   ~

He had to ring the bell three times before she answered, and when she did it was with a conspiratorial air. She grabbed his hand immediately and pulled him inside to the couch. “Oliver,” she said, making intense eye contact, “I wanted to be good at smoking weed so I tried to practice but now I think it was a bad idea.”

Oliver just stared at her for a minute, unsure of how to respond, then said “What did you smoke? Just weed?”

She nodded solemnly at him and replied, “I asked my friend and she gave me a joint just like we had before but this time we weren’t packing so no spankings.”

Oliver blushed, and thought Emma might be wrong about that. There was no point in talking about it now though. Instead he asked, “Are you feeling okay? How much of it did you smoke?”

”I was scared before but now I feel better. And sleepy.”

”And how much did you smoke?”

”All of it. I’m an over-achiever. Can I go to bed now?”

Oliver smiled and shook his head, amused at her. “I think that’s a great idea. Let’s get you ready.”

Emma flopped back against the couch and said “I can just sleep here. I like it here. This is a good couch for sleeping.”

“I don’t think so, miss Emma. Let’s get you upstairs,” Oliver said as he stood.

”Hmph,” she said, pouting, which made Oliver raise an eyebrow at her. “Noooo, don’t look at me like that! No looks.”

”Then quit fussing and get up, little girl. I’m gonna crash here tonight.”

”Duh, you can’t leave me like this. Danny would murder you,” she said, giggling again.

”I think you have plenty to worry about without throwing me in the mix. Are you going to behave yourself and let me put you to bed?”

Emma heaved a long dramatic sigh, but in the end said simply, “I guess.”

”Good choice,” Oliver said as he extended his hand and she took it. “We’ll talk more tomorrow.”

~   ~   ~

The next morning, Emma came downstairs to find Oliver making eggs in the kitchen. “Hi,” she said sheepishly, climbing up onto one of the stools by the kitchen counter and putting her hands around the glass of orange juice he’d set out for her.

“Good morning, sunshine,” he said as he took the pan off the stove. He turned, giving her a smile as he dumped the yellow scrambled eggs on to two plates. “How are you feeling?”

”Pretty good,” she said. “I slept really hard.”

Oliver let out a laugh as he put a plate in front of her and then handed her a fork. “I bet you did. A whole joint by yourself?” He stood across from her as he took a bite.

She blushed and kept her eyes on her plate as she scooted her eggs around. After a minute Oliver said, “You gonna eat those or just rearrange them?”

She took a bite, swallowed, and glanced up. “Are you gonna tell Danny?”

Oliver gave her a scrutinizing look. She kept eating, trying to be good. He finally said, “How do you think Danny would feel about your little experiment?”

She stuck her lip out and stabbed a bite of egg. “It depends on if he knows or not. If he doesn’t know about it, he won’t have any feelings about it.”

When she glanced up again, Oliver was giving her a look that made her gaze drop right back to her plate. She took another bite to avoid having to look up.

”You can talk to Danny about it, Emma. And you can be grateful I don’t spank your butt before he does. I probably should.”

She squirmed in her seat. “Oliveeeer,” she whined. “Stooop.”

He picked up his empty plate and waited for her to take her last bite before grabbing hers, too. “Stop what?” he said, “Telling you what you already know?”

”Hmph. He wouldn’t punish me for the same thing twice.” An idea formed in her brain as she spoke. “Actually…” she said hesitantly, watching Oliver close the dishwasher and turn to her, drying his hands on a towel.

”Yes?” he said.

”Would you?” she said, blushing furiously but keeping her eyes up.

“Would I what?”

”Would you… take care of it?” She didn’t think she had ever blushed harder in her life.

Oliver leaned back against the counter and crossed his arms, contemplating her. “You think I’m gonna be nicer than Danny, huh?”

”No!” she squeaked, even though that was exactly what she had been thinking. “I just hate waiting.”  That part was also true; she wasn’t sure she could carry this weight in her stomach until Danny got home on Monday.

Oliver continued to contemplate her. “You know I won’t be nice either. I don’t think you made an especially wise decision.”

Emma frowned and played with the condensation on her glass of juice. “You and Ben smoke all the time, though.”

Oliver nodded. “We do, pretty regularly. But we also know how much, and how it makes us feel. And you could have called me earlier last night. We could have smoked together if that was what you wanted. I don’t think it was about that, though.”

Emma made a face, scrunching up her nose. “How do you know what it was about?” she said.

”Call it a hunch,” Oliver said, but his tone had changed. He stood up straight and gave her a look that made her insides squirm. “Do you have a favorite corner?”

”Oliver! No one has a favorite corner! Do you have to do that part, too?”

”I sure don’t,” he replied. “I’m doing it because I think you need a little time to think about why you were home alone last night, trying to hide something that you‘re now telling me you’re allowed to do.”

Emma huffed. “Well maybe I am allowed to do it.”

”Would you like your mouth washed out, too?”

Her eyes went round. “No sir,” she said quickly and without thinking. She’d never called Oliver sir before, but she had also never had soap in her mouth and she wanted to keep it that way.

”Good. Go find a corner, please.”

Subdued, Emma climbed down from the stool and went to a corner of the living room which, while not her favorite, was certainly familiar. She put her hands behind her back obediently, hoping that Oliver was wrong about being mean like Danny, but worrying that he wasn’t. He wasn’t wrong about her motivations. She shifted her feet as the guilt she’d been avoiding settled in.

When Oliver called her out a few minutes later, she was in a very different headspace. Though she still hoped that Oliver would be more lenient than her boyfriend, she knew she deserved to be punished. She walked over to where Oliver sat on the corner of the sturdy glass coffee table. She noticed a wooden spoon sitting behind him and groaned. “Is it too late to wait for Danny?” she asked tentatively.

”It is,” Oliver replied. “The spoon was actually his suggestion.”

Emma’s lungs seemed to freeze. “You talked to him?” she said, her voice much higher than normal. Heat rushed up her neck and face.

”Mhmm.”

”Oh,” she said, unable to utter any more syllables after that.

“He pointed out that his hand didn’t seem to do the trick last time. Let’s get this taken care of. Over my lap, please.”

Emma practically dove into position, ready for Oliver to stop looking at her face. He pulled her pajama bottoms down, then adjusted her yellow underwear so they covered her bottom.

He began patting her backside as he spoke. “I can’t believe that after the trouble we were in just a month ago, you are messing around again.” The pats morphed into swats, and those swats were becoming harder by the second.

”You are not in high school any more. Weed is not something you need to become ‘good’ at, as you said last night.”

“I know, I know Oliver!” Emma said, pushing her palms against his thigh and kicking her feet. His hand was so stingy and he spanked so fast that she couldn’t catch her breath. He began to concentrate on her sit spots.

”You knew before you started this whole thing, which is why you waited until Danny was out of town to do it.”

Emma strained against Oliver’s grasp, trying to keep her feet out of his way but barely succeeding. He continued lecturing over her pitiful grunts and heavy breathing.

”You’re officially grounded from smoking, alone or with anyone else.”

”But Oliver—“ she said between wiggles, but he spoke over her.

”Danny’s decision. Which I fully support. If you can’t be responsible with it, you don’t need to do it.”

”But I feel left out,” she whined, and Oliver stopped spanking her. He rested his right hand on her bottom and rubbed her back gently with his left.

”Emma, you don’t have to enjoy everything. It doesn’t make you less fun or more fun. It doesn’t make us not want to hang out with you. Do you understand that?”

”I guess,” she said miserably, and Oliver gave a low hum of disapproval before using both hands to pull her underwear down, exposing her already sore bare bottom.

She moaned and kicked her feet, which earned her a swat to each thigh. “Keep those down, Emma. We aren’t finished. I need you to be a whole lot more sure first.”

Next she felt the cool wood of the spoon and she reached over to grab a fistful of Oliver’s pajama bottoms with her right hand while her left braced her against the floor. He didn’t wait long before he was spanking her with it, sharp and stingy swats all over her backside. She kicked her legs from side to side, but kept them out of the way; she didn’t want her thighs to match her bottom.

She was beginning to regret a lot of things as the spoon fell— asking her friend for weed, for starters. Smoking by herself, for another. And asking Oliver to be in charge of her punishment was currently at the top of her list. He kept Ben under control, for goodness sake! Why had she thought he would be a pushover?

“Let me tell you about my tolerance,” he said as the spoon made contact again and again. “It is very low when it comes to these sorts of antics. You are sweet and fun and funny, and that is all you need to be.”

He laid the swats on hard after he spoke, but only for a moment before he stopped spanking her. Her eyes were wet as she felt him rest his forearms across her back, and she released his pants leg to swipe the back of her hand across her face.

”I am really glad you called me when you got scared last night. And I hope that any time you’re in a situation where you feel scared, you’ll call one of us. Even if it means a sore butt for you.”

She squirmed, both embarrassed and pleased at the praise. He set the spoon down with a clatter on the table and patted her bottom with his hand.

”So, we are clear that you are grounded? And why?”

”Yes, Oliver,” she said meekly. She didn’t care if she never smoked weed again right now. He had been right earlier— she didn’t even enjoy it. And now she wasn’t going to enjoy sitting for the rest of the day.

He pulled her underwear and pajama bottoms up, then had her get up as well. She did so but then immediately sat in his lap, throwing her arms around his neck.

”Shhh, it’s alright,” he said as he rubbed her back. She just needed to be held for a few minutes, and she was happy with how comfortable she felt letting Oliver take care of her. Even if he was, most decidedly, mean. She actually smiled into his shoulder, thinking about commiserating with Ben when he got home.

”Alright, miss Emma, we better go call our boyfriends. I need to let Ben know you survived. He was very worried. You did survive, right?”

Emma giggled and sat up, nodding as she said, “Mostly,” and then, “thank you.”

Oliver smiled and hugged her tightly. “You’re welcome.”

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Moving Day

Standard

Emma looked at her feet as she shuffled into the living room in a straight line between Oliver and Benjamin. The three of them stopped alongside the wall, in front of a long defunct fireplace and surrounded by boxes and scattered rolls of packing tape. They turned obediently about-face in the room’s center. Emma bit her lip nervously as she watched Danny move his arms across his chest and survey the three young adults. They’d been packing silently in separate rooms for over an hour. Danny didn’t want to deal with them until they were sober.

Emma glanced at the clock still on the wall and cringed. She couldn’t believe she was sobering up before three in the afternoon. She’d only gotten high a handful of times in her life, and never in the middle of the day and definitely never when she was supposed to be doing something else. It had just seemed so serendipitous, coming across the rolled joint in a glass on top of the refrigerator as she packed up the kitchen.

She’d brought it to Ben with a smirk, and his eyes had lit up mischievously. A friend had left it as a goodbye present for him, and he’d forgotten all about it.

“Oh this is going to make packing so much less boring,” he’d said, and Emma had laughed, assuming he was joking. He hadn’t been, though, and she had to admit that the idea of getting a little stoned sounded fun. She frowned as she thought about what Danny would say. He was out running a few errands, getting more boxes and grabbing take-out for them to eat later. Ben had just graduated, and he and Oliver were moving across the country, back to where Danny and Ben had grown up. They would all be in the same neighborhood now, and Danny and Emma were there to help pack up the UHaul and tow it west.

It had been like Ben could read her thoughts and he quickly said, “Let’s ask Oliver! OLIVER!!!” He yelled his boyfriend’s name suddenly, making Emma cringe and then glare at him. Oliver made his way into the living room from the bedroom and was quickly brought up to speed. Emma had honestly expected Oliver to put a stop to it then and there, but she had underestimated how persuasive Ben could be. She shouldn’t have been surprised; he was Danny’s brother, after all, and Danny could charm the pictures off a wall.

At least Oliver was also worried about Danny’s reaction; it was his first thought, too. Strategy one for Ben was teasing his boyfriend– “Oh come on, you aren’t scared of Danny, are you?” to which Oliver replied with no hint of shame, “Of course I’m scared of him.” Ben had rolled his eyes and Emma had giggled, but she’s also gotten butterflies in her stomach. She was on the same page as Oliver. Ben had switched tactics immediately, instead trying to convince them that Danny wouldn’t care anyway, and he did have a point… or at least, it had seemed like he had a point at the time.

“He seriously won’t! We’re not driving anywhere or going to a fancy dinner or any of the stuff that would get him worked up.”

Ben was probably right about that. If they’d all taken a hit or two and gone back to work, Danny likely wouldn’t have cared. But of course that wasn’t how it had worked out, or they wouldn’t be on the receiving end of an impending lecture, or an impending… Emma didn’t want to think the word, as if somehow that would bring it into being more quickly.

It turned out that it had been a very generous friend who had left the joint, and after only a hit or two of the strong stuff, the three lightweights caught with the giggles. Whatever ideas they had about continuing to work were out the window like the smoke they were blowing.

~   ~   ~

Emma was jerked out of the recent memory and out of line at the same time. She yelped and hopped as Danny’s left hand connected with her seat half a dozen powerful times. His right hand, which had pulled her forward by her bicep, gently guided her backwards and back to her spot. A hot blush rushed up her body, and she could feel the heat radiating off of her face. Her eyes pricked with tears— not at the swats (though she could still feel them), but at the embarrassment of being caught distracted and punished for it in front of the boys.

She dragged her wet eyes up to meet her boyfriend’s face, swiping at the tears quickly as she did so. His eyes were firm but not without sympathy, which helped her meet his gaze. “Pay attention to me please, Emma. You’ve had plenty of time for your own thoughts. Now you get to hear mine.”

“Yes sir,” she said quietly.

On Emma’s right stood Oliver, who had his hands behind his back and nervously rocked back and forth on the balls of his feet. He was blushing almost as much as Emma, and would later tell her that Dan had said her name three times before swatting her. Ben stood to her right, his arms crossed defiantly in front of him. He alone seemed unsorry, and was more upset by the quick reprimand than she was.

Daniel stood very still, eyeballing each in turn as he considered what to say next. He noticed his brother’s defiant posture and focused his gaze in Ben’s direction.
“Do you have something you would like to say?” he asked.
Ben scowled and kicked at the old hardwood floors. “We still have plenty of time to get everything done.” He kept his eyes pointd toward the toe of his sneaker, glancing up at his big brother’s face only once and regretting it instantly. He doubled down on his sulky attitude, though, as he mumbled “You’re just mad because we did it without you.”

Emma felt her eyes rounding as she heard Ben talk. He was going to get Danny riled up, and they were all going to feel the consequences if he didn’t shut up.
“Benjamin,” came a voice from her right. She watched Danny’s mouth, which had likely been about to say same thing, close thoughtfully. She peeked up to see Oliver looking over her head at his boyfriend, his expression as stern as Danny’s. “Enough. Apologize.”

Emma’s eyes rolled over to Ben, who stood with his mouth gaping, looking like a fish out of water. He looked at Oliver, then at Danny, and back again. “But…” he whined.

“Now,” Oliver said, and Benjamin frowned prettily but said “Sorry, Danny.”

Oliver purposefully turned his attention back to Danny, standing as respectfully as possible and clearly prepared to continue being lectured. Danny nodded and said “Thank you,” though Emma wasn’t sure if he was talking to Oliver or Ben. She guessed both. Ben’s body seemed to visibly deflate as his shoulders sagged. His face lost the challenging expression he’d had as he fully embraced the pouting stage. She turned her attention back to Dan, who didn’t seem interested on dwelling on the exchange.

“You aren’t in trouble for smoking. With or without me,” he said dryly, and Benjamin had the grace to blush now. “You’re in trouble for completely abandoning the job we have to finish today. And you are in trouble for trying to hide it from me when I got back.”

All three of them squirmed at this. It had been an entirely useless attempt at deception. They’d reacted like a bunch of teenagers caught smoking in their parents’ basements instead of like three adults. Emma didn’t know what it was about getting busted passing a joint that made it feel so naughty. They’d heard Dan’s car pull up and had started fanning the room wildly with their arms, as if that would help anything, followed by a completely worthless attempt at acting normal.

Danny had been flustered. Flustered. She hadn’t known that was even possible before today. It hadn’t taken him long to recover, though, that was for sure. He seems to grow taller before their eyes. He wasn’t angry, exactly. Emma had seen angry. This was Danny at his most “oh, really?” as she called it in her head. He saw a problem that needed to be addressed, so here he was to address it.

“Did you get anything done while I was gone?” he’d asked directly, looking around at the half filled boxes and half emptied shelves. He held a plastic bag in each hand, filled with the sub sandwiches he’d gotten them for lunch. Which they still hadn’t gotten to eat.

Clearly they hadn’t, and she—

~   ~   ~

“Emma Grace,” Danny said, jerking her back to reality again. He looked so. mad. She couldn’t believe she’d let her mind wander again. He was going to murder her.

“Sorry, sorrysorrysorry!” she said quickly, as her hands covered her bottom. She resisted the urge to step behind Ben or Oliver, but barely. “I’m listening!”

”I think listening is proving too difficult for you right now. It‘s time for my hand to do the talking.”

Emma hated it when cheesy lines like that made her insides jump. Danny pointed to the corners behind them, one to the left and one to the right, and both currently emptied of furniture. “Oliver. Benjamin.” Emma took a step back. Oh, no. She was first.
Reluctantly, and with sympathetic glances in Emma’s directions, the boys turned toward their respective corners. Danny retrieved one of the old wooden chairs from the dining room and sat facing Emma. He held her in his gaze for a moment, his hands casually resting on his lap before raising one hand and crooking a finger at her.

She bit her lip again, a nervous habit that never seemed to relieve her nerves at all, and slowly shuffled to his side. He reached up, gently tipping her forward and across his lap. She wiggled a bit, settling herself, and he scooched her closer to his middle before resting his hand on her thighs, just below the hem of the dress she was wearing. She knew he wasn’t about to start spanking her that low but she still let out a worried moan. The hand slid up, pushing the thin material up her thighs and across her bottom to rest on the skintight black shorts she wore underneath. His right hand met the left, taking the bunched up material of her dress and moving it up and out of the way. Danny began to speak.

“You’re having an awful lot of trouble listening today, young lady.” The blush on Emma’s cheeks rose anew as he continued, “Not the best strategy for someone about to be spanked.”

”Dannnnyyy,” she whined, covering her face with her hands, effectively hiding from the floor. Her boyfriend patted her bottom affectionately, then adjusted his grip around her waist in a way she recognized.

Sure enough, the first swat cracked down seconds later, propelling her forward. Her hands fell from her face and landed in the floor, fingers splayed as she braced herself against the onslaught. Danny was methodical, covering every bit of her exposed bottom with his hard open palm. Emma was painfully aware of the boys in their corners and tried desperately to remain quiet, but it was a fruitless effort. She squeaked and yipped, unable to hold back her reactions as Danny spanked and lectured her.

”I expect better from you. I want you to have fun but we take care of our obligations first. And you had no business trying to keep up with the boys anyway, young lady. You know what kind of tolerance you have.”

This, for Emma, was the most embarrassing part. She felt like a kid, being reminded that she couldn’t quite hang with the older crowd yet. Danny was right, of course. He and the others all smoked more often than her, not that any of them were judging the others for it.

“You know better than to think you can get your work done and done well after you’ve been smoking.”

She did know better, and she felt like she shrank three sizes as he finished her spanking. As the last swats fell and he pulled up her underwear and shorts and began to rub her back, she knew her bottom must be glowing. He soon guided her back up to standing and stood as well, hugging her and kissing the top of her head. He didn’t wait long though before gently pulling away, cupping her face for a minute before pointing her in the direction of Oliver’s corner.

She stuck her bottom lip out, and he raised an eyebrow at her. That same pretty lip ended up in her teeth again and she turned and scurried toward the corner, but not fast enough to avoid one final loud pop to her now sore bottom.

She yelped and immediately covered her backside, looking back over her shoulder as she quickened her steps. “Come here, Oliver,” she heard Danny say, and she cast her eyes down as she saw him turn. She was so embarrassed by what had just happened and by what was about to happen that she couldn’t risk looking him in the face.

She saw his feet shuffle past hers as she plastered herself into the corner where he had been. She immediately jammed her fingers into her ears and shut her eyes tightly, though little good it did her. Within seconds she felt her wrists being grabbed and her arms being extended and rearranged, placed neatly on the small of her back. Then her dress was being lifted and clasped along with her wrists in one large hand, while the other came down sharply on her spandex shorts.

”Ow! Ow! Sorry! Sorry!” she squealed as he lit her up again.

”Show me how you stand in a corner, young lady,” Danny said behind her— too close behind her, in her opinion. No ill-will toward Ollie, but she wanted Danny back across the room as fast as possible. She snapped her feet together and clasped her hands loosely without moving them from her back when Danny released her arms. Again, her face radiated so much heat that she felt confident she could power a small appliance with the energy.

”Better,” her boyfriend said as she heard him walk back to the chair in the center of the room. “Now, Oliver,” he continued, and Emma could hear the jingle of Oliver’s belt. She cringed. Danny must be taking down his pants. “Let’s talk about some of the choices you made today.”

Unable to cover her ears, Emma heard Oliver groan, knew it was only a matter of time before—

Smack!

—the spanking started. The swats were loud and echoey from her spot in the corner, but not nearly enough to hide the grunts and yelps Oliver was emitting at regular intervals. Or Danny, as he scolded him.

“I expect you to make better decisions, young man. You are well-aware of the schedule we’re on, and what needs to be finished today. It was irresponsible, Oliver, and I expect better.”

The steady sound of Danny spanking what Emma knew had to be Oliver’s bare Read the rest of this entry

This Brush?

Standard

Oliver lay on his back with an arm around Benjamin, who was snug up against him. He’d just gotten home from a trip out west, where he’d found an apartment for them to share at the end of May when they moved. His boyfriend was pressing him for details, but not about their new place or future neighborhood or the flight home.

”Did he make you stand in the corner?”

“No, he did not. Why are you so curious about what Danny did to me, huh? You lookin’ for a demonstration?” Oliver ran the hand behind Ben through his boyfriend’s hair affectionately, making sure he knew there was no heat behind the threat.  In truth he felt like Ben deserved whatever answers he wanted; Oliver had upset him and he had every right to be upset. If what he wanted was details, Oliver would do his best.

”Did he use the hairbrush?”

”Yes, you little miscreant. I’m sure you knew he would.”

”I didn’t!” Ben said, a little indignantly. “I didn’t know for sure you were gonna be in trouble.” He turned on the bed, sitting up a little and looking down at Oliver as he asked, “Does it still hurt?” His face was filled with such sweet earnest worry that Oliver couldn’t help but to lean up and kiss him quickly.

He winced dramatically with the movement, then winked as his head hit the pillow again. “Yes, it does. But not much. Only when I sit down too hard.”

Ben searched Oliver’s face a moment more before laying down again, his head on Ollie’s chest. “Well. You did deserve it.”

”Yes,” said Oliver, giving Ben a squeeze. “I guess I did.”

They lay silently for a few minutes before Ben said, “Did you cry?”

Oliver flushed a little, but he answered truthfully, “Yeah, I did.”

He felt Ben give a little shudder beside him as he said “He always makes me cry if he thinks what I did was dangerous, or if he thinks I’m screwing up my life somehow.”

”What’d you do?” Oliver asked, sensing something in Ben’s tone and suddenly curious himself.  In seconds he could feel the heat from Ben’s face through the thin fabric of his shirt, but he didn’t speak until Oliver nudged him.

”It’s so embarrassing though!” Ben whined into Oliver’s chest, but his boyfriend just chuckled.

“It’s all embarrassing, sweet boy. I’m beginning to think that’s half the point.” He kissed the top of Ben’s head.

”There wasn’t just one time,” Ben mumbled, but Oliver would have guessed that.

“But there’s one time you’re thinking of?”

“Maybe…”

~   ~   ~

Ben heard a noise downstairs and paused the video game he was playing to lean over and look out of his bedroom window.  FUCK.

Why?  Why was Danny’s car in the driveway?  He was in school three hours away and there was literally no reason for him to be here and this was not good this was so not good this was–

“Benjamin! Get down here.”

Ben scrambled up from his spot on the floor, looking around his room for no particular reason, panicked.  He was supposed to be in school right now, but with their parents in Switzerland or Kenya or wherever they were this week, he wasn’t even pretending to be sick.  Not that he needed much of an excuse when they were home; the smallest hint of a cough and his mother would cup his face and kiss his forehead and tell him to stay home and rest.  But today he just wasn’t in school.  And maybe he had skipped yesterday.  And the day before.

Danny’s voice traveled up the stairs again, “Benjamin Ryan!  Now!”

Ben took a deep breath and exited his room.  The stairs ended by the kitchen, where Danny was standing with his arms crossed, leaning back against the breakfast table.  “Why?  Why are you not in school?” he said as soon as Ben’s foot touched the bottom step.

Ben sat on the landing, crossing his own arms and looking away.  “Hello to you, too. I don’t feel good.”

Dan let the silence grow so thick that eventually Ben couldn’t help but look over at his older brother.  The muscles of Danny’s clenched jaw were twitching, and Ben was afraid his head might actually explode.  That would be hard to explain to their parents.

~   ~   ~

“Wait so when was this?” Oliver asked.

“Senior year.  Not too long before graduation because it was Danny’s spring break.  Ours was two weeks earlier.”

“He was in grad school already?”

“Yeah, Mr. Over-achiever finished undergrad a year early and went straight back to school.”

“Got it got it.  So then what happened?”

~   ~   ~

“I am not Mom.  Or Dad.  Try again,” Danny finally ground out.

“Well they don’t care so why do you care?” Ben pouted.  It was the wrong thing to say.  He barely had time to eek out a “Wait I didn’t mean it!” before Danny was hauling him up with one strong hand on the younger boy’s bicep and swatting his backside with the other.  Dan didn’t dignify the comment with a verbal response, but Ben got the message loud and clear.  He was cognizant of his yelps echoing up the stairwell as the spanking went on and on.  With a final almighty whack, he was deposited back on the steps.  He immediately shifted left and right, sliding his hands under his stinging backside and grateful he was still in the sweatpants he’d worn to bed.

Danny squatted in front of him, not looking the least bit mollified.  “Don’t try that again, Ben.  I mean it.”

Ben nodded silently; he’d regretted it the moment the words had left his mouth, and not just because of the immediate repercussions.  Despite the occasional teenage resentment, Ben knew exactly why Danny cared, and how much.  They’d had their share of heart-to-hearts over the years.  Their parents loved them, but they both traveled for work and just as often for pleasure.  When they were home, both were so conflict avoidant that Ben never faced any consequences for whatever had happened in their absence.

Ben wasn’t mature enough yet to wonder at what it must have cost his brother to step into his role as a third parent so early, but he was old enough to be grateful.  Usually.

Dan stalked back to the kitchen table, resuming his earlier stance and gazing at his little brother with stern, forbidding eyes.  Ben leaned his head against the wall and sulked.  He didn’t care in this moment what motivated his brother.  He just knew that his week of staying home playing video games and staying up late was over.

“Do you know how many days you’ve missed this year?” Danny finally asked.

“I dunno… like eight?”

Dan glared at him.  “Try twenty.”

~   ~   ~

Twenty?!  How did you get away with twenty absences?  We could only have three unexcused ones before they sent someone to your house!”

Ben had the grace to blush as he traced the pattern on Oliver’s t-shirt with his finger.  “Well most of them were excused because my mom would get a doctor’s note.  Plus I went to private school so it’s a little easier to get away with things there.  But it also makes it a little easier to bend other rules.  Danny was getting cc’d on all the communications to my parents.  That’s how he knew I’d been out of school three days in a row.”

Oliver shook his head.  “I would have murdered my sisters if they’d had twenty absences.  Were you ever even sick?”

“Maybe once or twice, but not really.  It was actually a pretty sweet deal.”

Oliver rolled his eyes, though Ben wasn’t able to see it.  “Okay, high school me would have been jealous.  But high school me also didn’t have a Danny.”

“High school you was lucky.”

~   ~   ~

“Stand up. Put your nose in the corner,” Danny said abruptly. He pointed to the landing corner, before the stairs turned sharply right. Ben stared at him, dumbfounded. “What?!” he said finally, then immediately stood and scrambled backward as Danny started to walk toward him. His brother stopped at the bottom of the three steps leading up to the landing. Ben was plastered to the wall, eyeing the upper floor shrewdly as he said “I’m not a little kid! You can’t put me in time-out!”

~   ~   ~

“You yelled that at me last week,” Oliver said, laughing. Ben jerked his head up off of his boyfriend’s torso and glared down at him.

“I did not!”

Oliver merely raised his eyebrows in response.

“Are you finished interrupting?” Ben huffed.

“I am, I am, please continue,” Ollie placated him, rubbing his back as he settled back down. It wasn’t worth pressing at the moment.

~   ~   ~

It hadn’t been the most obedient five minutes Ben had ever spent in a corner, but it was the first time.  He’d stomped and fidgeted and banged his head lightly against the wall. He’d let out a long dramatic sigh.

He’d let out several long dramatic sighs.

When Danny did call him, it was from the living room.  Ben trudged in, hands in his pockets, trying to portray a nonchalance he didn’t quite feel. His brother sat in one of the two floral-patterned fauteuil chairs, and gestured for Ben to sit in the other. Ben did, slouching in response to Danny’s straight backed posture across from him.

Danny didn’t look much less annoyed than he had earlier. Ben didn’t care. He knew what was about to happen, knew it was inevitable, and now just wanted Danny to know how little he cared.

”Sit up,” Dan said immediately, and perhaps predictably (though Ben would have vehemently denied that he was purposefully antagonizing the older boy). Ben rolled his eyes, but complied. Dan continued to speak. “I’m not going to waste much time talking about why you should be in school right now. We’ve been over it. And over it.”

Ben rolled his eyes, pointing them skyward and ignoring his heating face as he forced himself to say “Just get it over with.”

”Look at me, please,” Danny replied. With an exaggerated turn of his head, Ben looked back.  Danny was reaching for a box that lay on the small round table between the two angled chairs. He opened it as he spoke, extracting a solid oval hairbrush with a dark finish. “I got this on the drive here, at an antique store off the highway.”

He didn’t explain it further. He didn’t need to. Ben’s chest was tight and he couldn’t take his eyes off the wooden hairbrush. Danny had threatened, on more than one occasion, to buy a one. Ben never thought it would actually happen.

”I’m finished explaining to you why it is so important for you to do your best. For you to behave yourself. For you to continue to do well in school. You’re going to have to grow up a little and figure that out on your own. And I’m confident you will.

“Today I’m going to give you one very good reason for you to do all of the above.”

”You can’t… you can’t hit me with that,” Ben said. He had intended to sound surly, but he came nowhere close.

”I can, and will, be spanking you with this hairbrush, Benjamin. Today, and any day you miss school until graduation. If I have to drive three hours to do it, I’ll drive three hours to do it. If I have to miss class to take care of you, that’s a second spanking before school the next morning.”

Ben tore his gaze away from the brush and gaped at his brother, not wanting to believe him but knowing he meant every word. The fire in his eyes had been replaced with grim determination. Ben watched him scoot toward the edge of his chair, a small step in the direction of doom for Ben’s bottom. “Time to ‘get it over with,’ as you requested.”

Ben leaned down, elbows on his knees and face in his hands. He rubbed his eyes, a useless attempt to wake up from this nightmare. And to stall for time. What were his options? He could run, but Danny was faster. He could fight, but Danny was stronger. He could argue, but Danny was grabbing his arm and pulling him over and—

And then it was happening, he was  horizontal over Danny’s lap and his pants were pulled down to his knees, with nothing left to do but accept the inevitable, though Ben’s interpretation of “accept” left lots of wiggle room. Ben groaned and then Danny’s hand landed, and then it didn’t stop landing for a very long time.

Ben refused to make any more noise at first, but as the heat in his backside began to build, he found himself banging the floor in frustration. Danny didn’t notice or didn’t care. His hand never slowed. “This isn’t fair! I don’t deserve this!” he yelled out, and Danny did seem to notice that because he paused to yank Ben’s boxers down to join his sweatpants. “Ahh!” Ben called out as the pain increased. “Just stop!”

Danny said above him, with all the patience of Ghandi, “I have only one point to make today, Benjamin. But I don’t think you’re ready to listen yet.” Oliver felt the strength of the swats increase and he yelled out again, then flung his hand back in a vain attempt at stopping the spanking, even momentarily. Danny trapped it with ease, not being inexperienced with this move, and continued with yet another round of searing swats.

“I’m ready to listen! Danny! I’m ready to listen!” Ben finally broke, but nothing changed. He tried again a minute later, as his legs scissored wildly, “I’ll go to school! I won’t miss any more days! Even if I’m sick!” but there was still no pause in the steady onslaught. Every inch of his butt hurt, not to mention the tops of his thighs. He never thought he’d miss the lecture part, but at least it generally made Danny slow down. “I won’t ever be late again! I’ll show up early! Danny I swear just stoooooopp!” he whined desperately.

This seemed to have the opposite effect from what Ben wanted, though, as Danny began concentrating all of his very powerful efforts on the undercurve of Ben’s backside and the tops of his thighs. Ben screeched and flailed, and finally did get another pause, but only to hear Danny’s voice, deadly quiet, advising him to be careful with his kicking feet.

”How? I can’t help it!” Ben said. Danny shifted Ben’s body forward, across one knee, and threw his leg across Ben’s.

“I think this is going to be necessary anyway today, so we might as well start now,” he proclaimed as he started in again on Ben’s hot and swollen backside. The swats were no harder but now the skin and muscles of Ben’s backside were pulled tight and the impact seemed to quadruple.

Ben was starting to feel a lot of regret about a lot of things; there was no room in his mind to worry about his impending date with the hairbrush. He didn’t even remember to be mad at his brother, he was so desperate to be out of this situation.

Eventually the swats did slow and then stop, and Danny released Ben’s hand so his own would be free to rub the boy’s back. Ben’s eyes were full of unshed tears as he soaked up the comfort he was given. “I’m sorry” he choked out, his attitude completely gone as he lay there, his rear end throbbing and sore.

Danny continued to rub his back as he said, “I know you are, kid. You always are in this position, and I think you genuinely mean it at the time. And then you forget.”  Ben felt Dan reach over to the table, and then felt the smooth finish of the new hairbrush glide across the taught skin of his backside. He started struggling immediately, but Danny grasped his wrist again and easily kept him in place as he continued, “I’m going to give you something you better not forget. You might forget all the reasons, but you better remember what this feels like, because it will happen again when and if it needs to.”

”I won’t forget! Please Danny, I won’t, I get it, I’m sorry,” he babbled, tears finally dropping on the hardwood floor in anticipation of the hairbrush landing. But it didn’t stop it from coming. Danny brought the hairbrush down firmly on Ben’s backside, first the left cheek and then the right, slower than before but hard, until Ben’s bottom had been thoroughly punished with the implement. And then he brought it down six more times, three to each sitspot, each swat deliberate and forceful.

Ben was a mess when it finally ended and he was pulled up to sit in Danny’s lap, where he clung to his brother, crying and apologizing and assuring him that he would never need to use the hairbrush again.

~   ~   ~

”This hairbrush?” Oliver asked, idly reaching over to the nightstand where they kept the antique.

”That hairbrush,” Ben said disdainfully, looking up to see it in his boyfriend’s hand.

”Never again, huh?” Oliver asked teasingly as he returned it to its spot.

”Well I hadn’t really figured out how terrible and mean Danny is. And don’t even get me started on you! I hadn’t met you yet.”

Oliver rolled over, quickly placing himself on top of Ben, his knees on either side of his boyfriend’s waist. “And what is so wrong with me, little boy?”

Ben grinned up mischievously. “I said don’t get me started! You are the most—“ but he didn’t get to finish his sentence because Oliver cut him off with a kiss.

”Sorry,” he said when their lips parted, his hands now planted along side Ben’s face, supporting his torso. “I thought you might be about to say something you’d regret.” Ben giggled, then Oliver asked, “Did you miss any more days?”

”No! Would you have missed any more days?!”

Oliver looked up and tick-tocked his head in an exaggerated show of contemplation, thinking about the last three days and the replacement hairbrush Danny had found. “No, I don’t think I would have.”

No Free Parking

Standard

Oliver was sitting in his bed answering some work emails from his laptop when he heard the door of the apartment open and shut forcefully.  Ben had just gotten home.

“But I don’t want to talk about it!  I didn’t know they would go to your house,” he heard Ben say, clearly on the phone.  Oliver assumed it was a call from Ben’s older brother.  He didn’t know anyone else that caused Benjamin to whine like seven year old.  He tried to re-focus on his computer, but Ben’s voice grabbed his attention again.

“I’m not irresponsible!  I just forgot to pay them.”

Hmm.  Oliver tried to concentrate again, but this time the interruption was a loud thunk against the other side of the bedroom wall.  He raised his eyebrows, shut his laptop, and got out of bed.  He paused in the doorway, looking into the living room and at his boyfriend, who was turned away, looking out the window with his arms crossed and his shoulders tensed.  Oliver took in the black scuff on the white apartment wall, then bent down to pick up the phone from the carpet.  Ben heard the movement and spun around, eyes wide, clearly surprised to not be alone.  Oliver gave his boyfriend an appraising look, then glanced at the phone.  “You’re lucky you have this case.  Looks undamaged.  Your brother is texting you,” he said as he read from the lock-screen previews.  “It says ‘one.'”

“Nooooo,” Ben said, actually stomping his foot as the phone dinged again.  Oliver read it with all the threat he knew it implied: “Two.”

It was like pressing fast-forward on an old VHS tape.  Ben suddenly scrambled across the room, practically snatching the phone from Oliver’s hand and then mashing the buttons to get his brother back on the line.  Ben glared reproachfully at Oliver, as if his boyfriend had anything at all to do with his dilemma, then squeezed his eyes shut as Dan apparently answered.  “I didn’t hang up on you!” he said quickly, and then with a guilty glance at Oliver, “I just dropped the phone.”

Oliver sighed and shook his head, then held out his hand expectantly.  Ben, still trying to talk his way out of trouble with Danny, shook his head.  Oliver snapped his fingers once, loudly, and Ben bit his lip and then said, “Oliver’s here.  He wants the phone.”  He handed it over.

“I’m putting you on speaker phone,” Oliver said briefly before doing so.  He walked toward the living room and set the phone on the glass coffee table.  Ben followed reluctantly, though instead of settling on the couch, he leaned against the wall nearby, arms stubbornly crossed again.

“Hello, Oliver,” came Danny’s voice.  “I was just talking to Benjamin about his fourth parking ticket.  The car is registered to this address and they keep coming here.”

“His fourth ticket?” said Oliver, his voice somehow managing surprised and stern at the same time. “No wonder he threw his phone at the wall.”

“He threw his phone?” said Danny, in a tone that could stop the sap dripping from a tree, then again directly to Benjamin, “You threw your phone?”

The look of betrayal on Ben’s face was almost too much for Oliver.  He felt a little bad about it, but there were no good reasons to hide that information from Danny and too many good reasons not to.  For one, he wasn’t exactly thrilled about the phone throwing, either, and would be discussing it with his boyfriend moments from now.  For another, he could imagine the look on Danny’s face right this minute, and it wasn’t a look he wanted pointed in his direction.  No, thank you.  Not as long as he could avoid it.

There was silence as Ben looked away and refused to speak, then Danny on the line saying, “Could I have a few more minutes of Ben’s time?”  There was an obvious unstated follow-up thought, before you deal with his behavior?

“Sure,” Oliver said, taking the phone off speaker and then bringing it to Ben, who rolled his eyes dramatically before taking it.  “I’m soorrry,” he said into the receiver immediately.  Oliver had reached his absolute limit with that eye roll.  From behind, he put his hands on either side of Ben’s waist and gently pushed him toward the bedroom.  Ben only resisted being guided a little, mostly in an attempt to keep from interrupting Danny’s scolding and land himself in even more trouble.  He found himself facing the corner, and his free arm placed behind his back.  His mouth formed a perfect pout that nobody could see, and he resigned himself to just getting off the phone and away from this lecture as soon as possible.  “Yes, sir,” and “no, sir,” were soon the only responses Oliver could hear from the corner.

When Ben finally hung up the phone, he turned, only to find Oliver with his hand out again.  Ben’s mouth dropped open and he said as he handed over the phone, “But…”

“Turn back around.  You are not finished yet.”

Ben’s shoulders sagged but he did as he was told, though Oliver had to take his hands and return them firmly to the small of his back.  He had only recently begun to use corner time, and Ben knew the position he should be in.  Oliver knew better than to let Ben get away with any small defiance leading up to a spanking– and things were definitely leading up to a spanking– so that cost him his pants and underwear, too.

He let his boyfriend sit for a full five minute of silence before calling him out.  Ben flushed as he turned around, tugging at his button down and shuffling over to the bed, where he sat, looking pitiful.  Oliver crossed his arms and said sternly, “Four parking tickets?  And I haven’t heard about a single one of them?”

“But Ollie…”

“Not okay, Benjamin.  You do not get to hide things from me because you know I’ll be unhappy.”  His fingers slid down to the buckle of his belt, and he undid the clinking metal with one hand.  Ben tried to ignore the sound and the heat rushing up his face as he realized what was about to happen.  If Oliver was going to use his belt, he was also going to make Ben keep himself still.  Ben much preferred to be over his boyfriend’s lap– as much as he could prefer any sort of discipline– where he could kick his feet and have his hand restrained if he needed it.

Oliver was very intentional as he slid the leather from the loops of his jeans.  He doubled it in his hand and then gestured with the other for Ben to turn around and get into position.  The younger man stood and practically flung himself back on the bed, jeans drooping from his ankles. He buried his face in his arms, then kicked his feet fast and hard against the floor, giving voice to his frustrations.  Oliver let it go, knowing it wasn’t a show of resistance so much as a burst of energy that needed to be expelled.

He reached over and adjusted Ben’s clothes somewhat unnecessarily, inching his t-shirt up and his underwear down, making Ben feel more aware than ever of his bared backside.  “I’m not happy with your choices, little boy,” he said as he swung the belt lazily across the waiting bottom, lining himself up just right to do the job properly.  “One parking ticket isn’t a big deal, but four is a problem.” He swung the belt hard and watched it crack against Ben’s backside, watched the moment of impact as the muscles and fat curved and then righted.  “And not telling me is a problem,” he gave the belt another swing, “and throwing a tantrum and throwing your phone when you got caught is a problem.”  He found his rhythm as he lectured, and the belt began to fall rapidly, a steady pattern of sound emerging as it hit its mark over and over.

“Let’s talk about how you got those tickets in the first place.  Do you think the rules don’t apply to you, Benjamin?” –thwack– “That you are exempt?” –thwack–  “I’m afraid that is not the case, little boy.” –thwack– “There is nothing stopping you from leaving ten minutes earlier for class so you can find a legal spot.”

Ben made a frustrated noise into the bedspread, which he had wrapped up in his fists.  It might have been “Okaaaaayyy,” but Oliver ignored it.  He wasn’t looking for verbal responses.  He continued lecturing and spanking for several minutes before a pause, during which he ran his hand lightly across Ben’s slowly swelling backside and across his back.  Ben leaned into the touch, and spent the moment releasing the clutched blanket from his sweaty grasp.  They were re-tangled momentarily as Oliver began again.

“Since when is it okay to lie to me, Benjamin Kendrick?”

“I didn’t lie, Oliver!” Ben whined desperately, and for his trouble he got the next dozen searing swats across the tops of thighs.  “You’re telling me,” Oliver said in a deadly voice, “that you do not understand how lies of omission work?”

Ben shifted under the onslaught and backtracked immediately.  “I do!  I’m sorry, it won’t happen again.  I won’t do it again!”  Oliver moved the belt back up to Ben’s backside, but he put more force behind the swats.  He was not at all happy with that outburst, and Ben could feel a difference in the spanking as his boyfriend scolded him about lying, and then about throwing the phone.

Oliver watched Ben’s hands and feet as he laid down lick after lick with the thick leather belt he wore most days.  He watched Ben grasp the blanket in tight fists, and as he dug his toes deep into the white carpet. He was surprised by how little sympathy he had for Ben, even as the younger man began to babble apologies and screech. He knew it was difficult for his boyfriend to keep his feet down, and he watched his body twist and turn under the onslaught. Ben kept his bottom available and in range, but barely. Oliver was proud of him for that.

He wrapped up the spanking with some especially hard licks to Ben’s sit spots, the lecture finished.  Ben wouldn’t have been able to hear it anyway, as he yelled through them all. When it was over, he was about as sorry as he could be for all of it.  His bottom throbbed along with his heartbeat, and he could feel that it was swollen.  He kicked off his jeans and left his underwear around his knees before curling up around Oliver, who had joined him on the bed.  Ollie kissed the top of his boyfriend’s head and rubbed his back.  He was still firm as he went over some of thing things his boyfriend had agreed to under what was definitely duress but would nonetheless stand.

“When will the tickets be paid?” he asked.

“Before bed tonight,” came Ben’s shaky reply.

“And if you do get another one? Which you better not, but…”

“I’ll tellll you,” Ben said, tucking his face into Oliver’s chest.

“And when is it appropriate to throw phones in this house?”

“Never,” Ben said, his voice muffled.

“Never is right,” Oliver said, and he kissed the top of Ben’s head once more.

 

Summer Flu

Standard

Emma scowled at Danny, who stood at the bottom of the stairs. He had his arms crossed, and he was unimpressed with her scowl. He had just ordered her back into bed, but she had no intention of going. She’d been stuck there for five miserable days with the flu, and she was so tired of being tired. So instead of turning around, she looked defiantly down the stairs, hands on her hips and scowl firmly in place… right up until Danny took a step toward her. She turned back around and stomped into the bedroom, slamming the door and furious with herself. What’s he going to do anyway? she grumbled.

Her scowl grew as she thought about this. Worst he would have done was shoo her back in here, considering he thought she was too weak to even walk down the stairs. Thoughts like these chased themselves around her head, and in a matter of minutes, she had worked herself up to getting out of bed again. This time she didn’t try to sneak down the stairs. She walked out of their room and announced over the railing that overlooked their open kitchen and living room, “I am coming downstairs.” As she took the few steps toward the staircase, she grabbed the railing to steady herself. Maybe she was a little bit more woozy than she thought. She looked up a second later, and back into the piercing eyes of Daniel Kendrick. He had his arms crossed again, and had apparently stepped out of their home office at her announcement just in time to see her stumble at the top of the stairs.

“Emma,” he ground out, but she refused to turn around. Still, she couldn’t quite stand her ground, and so instead she sat down on the top stair. Danny’s eyebrows shot up, and she tried to ignore the way her heart jumped in her chest at his expression. When he started walking up the stairs, she scrambled to stand, but jumping up made her dizzy again and she had to stop and clutch the banister. Danny hurried up the last few steps, wrapping his arms around her and walking them back to the bedroom. “I’m fine!” Emma said, but even she didn’t believe it. She was surprised at how much energy that had taken.

She was far more surprised a second later to find herself horizontal, stomach flat against her boyfriend’s muscled thighs and torso resting on the bed. She shrieked and squinched her face up, preparing herself for the first swat, but it didn’t come. Her whole body stilled, and in the silence she could hear her own breathing, which was much heavier than it should have been for so little activity. She was keenly aware of Danny’s right arm around her waist, holding her across his lap. His left hand tugged up her large t-shirt, then pulled down her underwear in two swift jerks, one on each side. His hand rested on her bared bottom as he began to speak.

“So you are so stir crazy that you would rather take a spanking than stay in bed. Is that what this is, Emma Grace?” he said quietly, his voice low and stern. She groaned softly and felt her face and neck go hot with embarrassment. Maybe she wasn’t exactly thinking just that, but maybe… maybe she had wanted to provoke some sort of response. Maybe. “Well I have bad news for you, kid. Because I am going to spank you,” he continued, gently running his hand up and down across the cool skin of her bottom, “but it is not going to be now. And it is not going to be tomorrow. You are going to stay in this bed, just like the doctor said, until she says it’s okay to be up.” A growl crept into his voice and Emma found herself whimpering through his lecture. “And the very second she says you are allowed out of bed, I am going to put you across my lap, just like this,” and he patted her bottom, “and I am going to spank your pretty backside until it glows.”

Emma buried her face into the bedspread, her ears burning with embarrassment. She felt her eyes well up with tears and she felt terrible for having provoked him at all, after all he’d done to care of her, and this was how— “Eeep!”

A single sharp swat had landed on her backside, and Danny said “None of that, little girl. I am not mad at you. I understand you are bored and frustrated. But bored and frustrated aren’t excuses for this behavior.” He patted her bottom, and she jumped even though he was being gentle again. “And believe me when I say that I am looking forward to you being well as much as you are. Maybe more, now.”

And with that he slid her off his lap, situating her back on his thigh but seated, underwear still bunched around her legs and her arms around his neck, a magnificent pout gracing her features. “I don’t want a spanking,” she mumbled, “I just don’t want to be sick any more.”

“Well you are still sick and you are going to be spanked. All you have left to decide is how bad it’s going to be. Keep up this pouting and I’ll take off my belt when the time comes. Let tomorrow be another day like today, and I’ll get the hairbrush. Let me catch you wobbling near those stairs again,” and his eyes glittered dangerously, “and I will spank you every night for a week. Are we clear on that?”

“Yes, sir,” Emma mumbled into his shirt. She couldn’t help that her mouth was still turned into a frown, though she dared not express any further rebelliousness. She didn’t argue when he tucked her back in a few minutes later. It was still early in the evening, but she was drifting to sleep in a matter of minutes.

~   ~   ~

Danny adjusted the covers around his sleeping girlfriend, then gathered up the small bin full of tissues and replaced the bag, straightening up the room for his patient. She had been so pitiful just three days before, and now she was struggling in a different sort of way. No longer occupied with the worst of the symptoms, she was now mostly just tired and bored. And naughty, Danny thought as he washed his hands for what must have been the thousandth time since she’d gotten sick. He was trying to be patient, but she’d just used up the last of it with that stunt. He suspected Emma might have found herself searching for his limits out of sheer desperation to rid herself of the doldrums. He crossed his arms again as he gazed down at her. Not wise, little girl, he thought to himself. Not wise at all.

~   ~   ~

When Emma woke again, it was almost dark. She noticed immediately that her area was clean again, as it always seemed to be after she dozed. She felt a twinge of guilt at how stubborn she’d been all day, but then she remembered that she was now in trouble, and a nice pout pushed the guilt away and she glared at the plate of saltines that had appeared on her nightstand. A glance at her phone told her it was almost 9pm. She reached for her iPad and began to pull up Netflix, but she hadn’t even gotten to her profile before tossing it gently away again. Emma was tired of watching things. She was tired of reading things. She was really truly and un-ironically tired of sleeping.

The door slowly opened and Danny walked in, carrying a glass of ginger ale. “Good morning,” he said as he placed the ginger ale on the nightstand beside the bed. “It’s not good or morning,” Emma replied grouchily. Danny’s eyebrows raised slowly and she pushed herself back a little, as if the headboard might actually be a secret door. Her boyfriend’s face didn’t look half as pleasant as his greeting had been. He stepped toward her and put his hands flat on the mattress, one on either side of her frame, so that his torso was parallel to hers and their bodies were very close. She pulled the covers up over her nose, but couldn’t seemed to break her wide eyes away from Danny’s. He was calm and unblinking, gazing thoughtfully at her for a moment before leaning down to put his lips against her ear and say quietly, “That’s one.”

“No!” Emma found herself exclaiming as she pulled the covers down from her face, narrowing avoiding hitting his rising body. He replied as he casually walked around to his side of the bed, “Oh yes. That’s one, and if you keep arguing, it will be two. Now sit all the way up.” His voice became more commanding as he let out a string of orders. “Start sipping your ginger ale, and start working on those crackers. I want all of it gone in the next hour, before we go to bed.” He held up a silencing hand before she could protest, “Yes, bed. I don’t think you’ll have any problems sleeping, but if you do, you can spend your time thinking about how you are going to keep from getting to three in the next 24 hours.”

Emma’s mouth dropped open, then shut with a click.  She crossed her arms and fought to make her face passive.  A minute later she reached over and grabbed a cracker and shoved it in her mouth.  She couldn’t see the small smile on Danny’s lips as she fought to chew the dry cracker, but it was there.  He left her alone as he picked up his kindle and glasses; he was quickly absorbed but managed to keep an eye on the clock.  He was happy to see that half of the ginger ale was gone and so were most of the crackers after half an hour, and finished before her time was up.  He quietly put his book down and put his arm around her shoulders.  She had been reading her own book, an actual paperback in her hands.  She leaned into him and he kissed her temple.  “Time for bed, honey.”  She sighed deeply but didn’t argue.  She put her book away and got up just long enough to complete her night time routine.  She was again startled by how quickly she tired, even though her tasks had been simple.

Emma really really did not want to be spanked with his belt, or the brand new hairbrush Danny had recently acquired.  And even though she didn’t want to go back to sleep, the thought of Danny holding her was now very appealing.  She decided she was all finished being mad at him as she pushed herself up against him in the bed.  He turned obliging, molding his body to hers and kissing the back of her head.  They talked a little, mostly mindless and sweet chatter, and soon they were both fast asleep.

~   ~   ~

The next morning, Emma woke before the sun had risen.  Danny was still asleep, having rolled over in the night to his side of the bed.  She brushed her fingers through his hair gently, and then glanced at the bedroom door, biting her bottom lip.

She really wanted to go downstairs.

She slipped one leg out from under the covers and planted it on the floor, then stilled.  Now that she was contemplating the move, she was very aware of her boyfriend’s body heat in the bed and his rhythmic breathing, indications that he was sleeping soundly.  She wanted it to stay that way, though she kept telling herself that he wouldn’t mind anyway.  She just wanted to eat, really, and that was a good thing!  She hadn’t been hungry in so long, and it meant she was getting better, for sure.

As her other foot made its way to the floor and she lay awkwardly twisted, she felt another twinge of guilt.  Maybe she should wake him up.

Even as she thought it, though, she let her torso slide off the bed, snakelike in her movements until she was planted.  Then she stood, and took a step toward the door.  An overwhelming sense of freedom shot through her and she walked a little faster, until she was at the top of the stairs.  Remembering Danny’s look at her wobbling yesterday, Emma decided to sit, carefully, on the top step, and scoot her way to the bottom.  To hush the voice that told her this was all a bad idea, she kept making small compromises, hoping to sooth the warning bells.  She got down the stairs safely.  He would be happy with her for that.  Definitely happy.

She walked over to the kitchen, opened the fridge, and began to rummage for breakfast. The doctor had warned her that her appetite would return much faster than her ability to eat without being sick. At the moment she didn’t care, and she poured herself a large glass of orange juice and put a bagel in the toaster. She grabbed cream cheese, and container of berries, and some yogurt. She almost grabbed the granola, but her arms were full, so she turned to put everything down on the table…

…and found herself looking directly into a pair of very unhappy eyes. Emma almost dropped the food in her arms, but caught herself. “Hi,” she said meekly.

“Three,” Danny replied, his voice deep and gravelly from sleep. He wore plaid white and grey pajama pants, the drawstring dangling loosely. His chest and feet were bare and his hair was still mussed. That much authority shouldn’t have been possible from someone who had been asleep just minutes ago, but the air around him seemed to crackle with it. Or perhaps that was Emma projecting— her stomach knotted and she struggled to defend herself in the face of his stern gaze.

“You were asleep, though…” she said, trying to sound confident but hearing the confession in her almost-whisper. And then the actual word he had said caught up with her brain and she dropped everything on the counter to exclaim, “Wait, three?! You were only at one before! You can’t skip—”

“I can. I did. Go back upstairs.”

“But I—”

“Now.”

Emma paused, feeling overwhelmed. She couldn’t move, wanting so badly to argue but also knowing that it wouldn’t do anything but get her in more trouble. And now he was going to use his hairbrush tomorrow, and she knew that’s what he would use, it’s what he always used when she was intentionally naughty, and she hated the hairbrush. One quick glance at this face told her she was seconds away from being carried up the stairs. She heard the toaster pop, her bagel was ready, and it was somehow the signal her brain needed. She glanced back at the slices longingly for a second, and then walked around the kitchen island toward the stairs, where Danny stood, still watching her.

As her right foot landed on the bottom step, a wave of heat rush up her body. She realized that he was hovering nearby so he could walk her up them, and it made her feel small to have him in step behind her. Any argument died on her lips, though, and she forced her left foot up, onto the next one. When they got to the bedroom, she couldn’t help but cast an imploring look up at her boyfriend. She wanted to be anywhere, anywhere, besides back in this bed. She said quietly, “I feel a lot better today, though, I promise.”

Danny nodded, lifted the covers, and said, “Good. I’m glad to hear it,” and she realized in an instant that this wasn’t about her being sick, not this particular small detail. He probably would have let her get out of bed once he woke up, if she had just asked him, if she had just waited for him to or woken him up herself. This was now a battle of wills. She had done exactly what she’d been told not to do, and she was suddenly sure that she’d be regretting that choice in more ways than one. Her shoulders sagged, because she knew, too, that Danny didn’t choose his battles unwisely. He would win. He always did.

And so, she climbed under the blankets and allowed herself to be tucked in, once again. “I’ll be back up in just a minute,” Danny said before kissing her forehead and leaving the room. And he was, with half bagel on a plate, a small glass of orange juice, and a large glass of water. She gave him a shy smile and sat up in the bed, blushing faintly but also a little pleased as he spread a napkin over her lap. He wasn’t too mad at her if he was pampering her, she thought happily. Not that he ever really got mad at her. Danny more just had… expectations. And consequences for not meeting those expectations. He was surprisingly good at dealing with chaos, and would have been described by their friends as laid-back or easy going. He’d told Emma once that it wasn’t that he minded not being in control; he just was or he wasn’t. So if it was his job, or his problem, or someone who belonged to him— like me, Emma thought, smiling— he was fully involved.

She immediately frowned again, because for her, fully involved meant that he was going to spank her tomorrow.  She hated even thinking the word, even though a small voice reminded her that she would feel much better afterwards.  She released a small sigh.  No use thinking about it now.  She picked up the bagel and had a bite.

~   ~   ~

The rest of the day passed almost without incident.  Danny did let her go downstairs in the afternoon, and they watched a movie together.  She didn’t start to nod off until the end, and then she took a nap on the sofa.  She was able to eat soup for dinner without any problems.  There were a few times where she began to protest his ministrations, but then she’d watch his eyes grow dark and she’d back down immediately.  Mostly, she was able to push thoughts of tomorrow aside.  The agitation at not working– Emma’s friends would not have described her as laid-back or easy going– even subsided, partially thanks to Danny’s efforts to keep her distracted.  She suspected he might have pushed off some of his own work obligations, but she didn’t even feel bad about it.  Mostly.

Emma only brushed up against Danny’s limits once more, when it was close to bed and she wanted to shower.  “Bath,” he’d said back to her when she’d mentioned it.  “I don’t want to take a bath,” she’d said back.  “I just want a quick shower.”

“Sorry, love.  Not tonight.  I watched you stumble up the stairs, and you probably should have been in bed an hour ago.  Take a bath tonight, and I’ll sit with you.”

“I said I don’t want to take a bath!” she had said back, with more force than she had intended.

“That’s one,” Danny had replied calmly, even as he went into their bathroom and turned on the tub’s faucet.  She felt a sharp intake of breath as she stared as his back.  What’s he going to do at three this time?! she’d wondered, but with none of the challenge that had led to her very first big act of defiance yesterday.  This time the question was scary.  She had suspected that he was only half concerned with her falling, and half trying to prove a point.  She had also suspected that he wouldn’t be interested in hearing that argument.  She had undressed, and climbed into the bath.

~   ~   ~

It was afternoon before Danny decided to address her punishment, even though she had called her doctor first thing after she woke up.  She spent the morning on edge, not wanting to ask and also wanting badly to know.  Now the moment had arrived.  She was in their office on the desktop, sorting through emails she’d missed or not had the energy to answer before, when he appeared in the doorway.  He leaned against the frame, arms and ankles casually crossed and said, “We need to talk, my girl.”

A small sound of disappointment escaped her, but she quickly got to a stopping point in her work and stood, walking hesitantly from behind the desk to take her boyfriend’s now proffered hand.  He raised her knuckles to his lips and kissed them gently, then pulled her past him and out the door, planting a swat on her backside with his other hand.  “Upstairs and find a corner,” he said, and she did exactly that.

About ten minutes later, Emma heard the soft sound of Danny sitting on the bed behind her.  She clenched her bottom involuntarily as she waited for him to call her out of the corner.  He didn’t make her wait long.  Soon she was standing in front of him, slightly between his spread knees, anxiously pulling at the fabric of her shorts and bouncing slightly on the balls of her feet.  It was like all of the energy she’d been lacking all week suddenly returned in an explosion of nerves.  In comparison, Danny seemed perfectly at ease, but then didn’t he always? she thought.  The hairbrush was already sitting on the bed beside him, and that didn’t seem like a good sign.  Daniel Kendrick had large, hard hands and a powerful swing, and when he did use implements, he typically sent her to fetch them near the end of her punishment.

There were times when she was made to explain whatever incident had lead up to the spanking, times when Danny wasn’t exactly sure about the details but was pretty sure she was guilty.  There was even one time when she had successfully explained herself and he had nodded thoughtfully before deciding not to spank her at all.  This time, though, there was no good explanation and they both knew it.  He’d still ask her plenty of questions, she knew he would, but not until she was already sore and sorry and on the brink of begging for him to stop.

He reached out and tugged on the bottoms of her shorts, which slipped off her hips to fall limply on the floor.  They were stuck around her left foot a second later as Danny pulled her forward and across his right knee.  He reached down to pick her up by the torso, swinging her legs up and making her, for the second time that week, horizontal and reaching for the blankets.  His easy maneuvering of her body made her feel especially vulnerable, and she was acutely aware that this time there would be no last minute reprieve.

She buried her face as his right hand pulled her more snugly against his body, and then the first swat fell and she wasn’t thinking about anything except the sharp sting of his palm on her backside.  Danny’s broad hand found its target over and over again, and though her underwear were still up, it didn’t do much to save the round curves of her bottom or the tender skin of her thighs.  He spanked her steadily, turning his hand into a metronome, not losing his rhythm even when she began to squirm, or later when she began to kick.  The only pause came after several minutes, when he decided it was time to lower her white panties.  She moaned into her arms; she always did.  It wasn’t the nudity itself but the lack of autonomy, the voteless decision to strip her of the smallest garment she wore, that made her flush with embarrassment.

There were times when he lingered at this moment, rubbing her back and observing his handiwork, but today he resumed the spanking with a sense of purpose that even in her vulnerable position, Emma recognized.  The echoey cadence of the spanking was interrupted by the noises escaping her, which were happening more and more frequently.  She had always been easy to bring to tears, but usually she did little more than squeak until the end of a spanking, when apologies would come spilling out of mouth.  She knew it was way too early for that, but her bottom already hurt so much!  Her hands, too, couldn’t be contained, though Danny was used to pinning one hand to her side or back.  Emma didn’t like to have them restrained, and so always fought to keep them forward.  At this moment they were both pressed against Danny’s thigh and she was pushing so hard that her back arched and only his strong grip around her waist held her there.

“Please, Danny!” she finally said, and to her surprise and against all precedent, he slowed down.  She relaxed her upper body as best she could, bring her hands in front of her to grab the blankets again.  As the swats slowly faded into gentle caresses, he began to speak.  “I know it has been a very hard week for you, little girl,” he said as his fingertips gently slid up and down her hot bottom and the tops of her thighs, circling the edges of her punished skin, “but I am not currently accepting ‘the flu’ as an excuse for bad behavior.”  He landed a tremendous swat at the end of his statement, then continued over her yelp, “I know it is very trying for you to not be working, and that the boredom probably felt like a punishment.  It wasn’t.”  She groaned as she felt him reach for the hairbrush, but he didn’t pause his lecture.  “By the time I’m finished with you, you will understand the difference.”

He placed the smooth wooden back of the brush against the hot skin of her backside, and pulled her body closer to his, so her side was plastered snugly against his stomach.  He reached up and placed his right hand on her right shoulder, letting it slide down her bicep so that he could untangle her arm and align it with her body, his grip settling firmly on her wrist.  She gave a little kick at this, then said pitifully, “But I’ve been good!”

She couldn’t see the brief affectionate smile on his face, but it was there.  “You have been good about your hands.  And I’m sure now that you will continue being good until I’m finished.  I’m afraid there’s no chance of it otherwise.”

Emma heard the threat in those words and began to scramble when she felt the brush lift a second later.  “No don’t don’t don’t I’m already sorry!  I’m already sorry, Danny!”

Her voice went up an octave at the last word; the brush crashed down and even though Danny knew they weren’t anywhere near the intensity of his usual “finishing” hairbrush swats, Emma was too overwhelmed to tell the difference.  For his part, Danny wanted to make good on his promise– the promise he felt was implicit when he counted to three.  Three promised consequences.  Three promised regret.

He brought the hairbrush down again and again, unfazed by her apologies or her tears or her wildly kicking legs.  Soon all of her words were lost, her entire vocabulary erased save his name, which she repeated with increasing desperation.  Eventually, even that was lost, and all that was left was the sound. Swat. After swat. after swat.

~   ~   ~

When Danny finally ended the spanking, Emma’s bottom was swollen and her breathing ragged.  He knew that it wasn’t the worst spanking he had ever given, but she was delicate now and he felt that as he held her.  Her body was worn and her emotions drained, though she had the strength to cling to his shirt and mumble into his chest, quiet “I’m sorry, sir, I’m so sorry,” while he mumbled his own “It’s okay, baby.  It’s okay,” over her.

She napped without complaint that evening.  He stayed in bed with her, reading while she slept.  When she woke, he massaged her back and rubbed lotion gently over her tender backside.  Emma pouted where she could get away with it, but generally after being spanked she felt small and doting.  She did as she was told, and he lavished praise on her for every small detail.  She even managed to keep from working one more full day.  It helped that she couldn’t bare to sit at the desk.

 

 

 

No Passing Zone

Standard

“Go back! I like that song!” Jade said from the driver’s seat as she and Lisa headed home from a morning spent at the park with friends. Lisa fiddled with the stations, flipping back a few, and asking, “this one?”

“Yeah,” responded Jade, immediately beginning to sing along. Lisa, indifferent to the radio, pulled up Instagram on her phone and was quickly absorbed by the app. She glanced up a minute later, though, startled to feel the car accelerate rapidly. Adrenaline rushed through her as she watched the red cab of an 18 wheeler barreling toward them, seeming to take up most of the front windshield. “Jade!” she yelled, even as she saw that they were passing another huge truck on the right.

The younger woman slid quickly back into her own lane, narrowly dodging both rigs and decelerating to match traffic as the hill they had just sped up tapered off to flat highway again. Both women were quiet for a moment, just the sound of top 40 hits chirping cheerfully at them as they both tried to slow their beating hearts. Finally Jade began, “That was…”

“A no-passing zone!” Lisa cut her off, her voice loud. “That was a no passing zone! What were you thinking?!”

Jade blushed, her own adrenaline tempered by the immediate dread that had settled over her, and said defensively, “it looked clear?”

“It looked clear,” Lisa repeated, letting the words hang in the air.  She let the quiet fill the car, until Jade couldn’t handle it and blurted, “It won’t happen again! Seriously, I know that was dumb. It was like the scariest moment of my life.”

“Get us home, little girl,” Lisa replied ominously. “It’s about to be the second scariest moment of your life.”

~ ~ ~

Jade did her best not to fidget in the corner of the living room where she now stood, hands behind her back and nose nearly touching the wall.  She wasn’t very good at corner time but she needed every ounce of good will she could muster from Lisa.  There were times when the woman’s patience brought to mind images of saints and angels. This was not one of those times. The rest of the ride home had been painfully silent, and the young woman wasn’t sure if she was dreading the spanking or the lecture that would surely accompany it more.

“Come here, young lady,” she heard from behind her. She turned to see Lisa seated on the couch, trusty hairbrush resting on the coffee table, and suddenly she was sure: she was way more scared of the spanking.

This was all too familiar now, though. Jade’s feet felt weighted as she dragged herself slowly to where her mentor sat, her face just as stern as it had been during the silent car ride home. That wasn’t good. Jade was sure she’d been in the corner for a solid 15 minute, which was long for Lisa. And she hadn’t appeared to have calmed down at all. Gulp.

Jade tried to make her face reflect how pitiful she felt right now. She didn’t have a good argument to make, and had kept herself from saying “but I made it” several times. She knew exactly how that would play out, and she liked her thighs the color they were, thanks all the same. And even she knew that it wasn’t a good argument anyway. She had gotten lucky. That was all there was to it.

So, she had her best “I’m sorry” frown in place when she stopped in front of the other woman, and even folded her hands compliantly behind her head without being asked. Lisa didn’t always start by taking Jade’s pants down, but the younger woman had a feeling. It didn’t stop her from shutting her eyes tight when Lisa reached up to undo her belt and unbutton her pants. Jade was startled into opening her eyes when she felt a hand on her hip, looking down to see Lisa grabbing Jade’s belt and pulling, watching it snake through the loops and then dangle there ominously.

Jade’s eyes went wide but she didn’t say anything, probably because Lisa was looking up with a dangerous “I dare you” face. But a voice in her mind yelled, “my belt? My own belt?!” She didn’t have time to contemplate further, though, because then her pants were around her ankles and she was pulled abruptly over Lisa’s lap, her hands leaving her head to catch herself on the couch. Her legs were moved up with infuriating ease, and she felt Lisa’s hand resting on her underwear-clad bottom as she asked, “Do I need to go over what happened today? Do I need to explain why I am about to spank your little backside all sorts of rosy?” Jade gulped again as she murmered, “no ma’am.”

“Good,” came Lisa’s voice, and then her hand was up and landing again, the muffled sound of her palm on the blue cotton underwear filling the room. Jade tried to stay still, but it was always a struggle at the beginning. She knew the spanking was going to get much worse before it got better, but those first swats always made her wiggle, and Lisa was clearly not in the mood for an extended warm up. All too soon, Jade felt her undies being pulled down, with hardly a missed beat between swats. The accompanying sound was much louder, sharp and echoey in the living room, and Jade clutched a pillow helplessly.

By the time Lisa’s hand stopped falling, Jade knew the dark skin of her bottom was a dusky rose shade, and she dreaded the next bit. She felt her body shift as her mentor reached over for the hairbrush, resting the cool wood on her hot bottom. She didn’t resume spanking immediately though, instead rubbing the younger woman’s back and asking, “What does it mean when you see two solid yellow lines on the highway?” Jade answered promptly, “don’t pass.”

“Right,” came Lisa’s response, along with two hard swats with the brush. “Why were there two yellow lines there?”

“So I wouldn’t pass?” Jade said uncertainly, and wasn’t actually surprised by the flurry of swats that came next. It hadn’t felt like the right answer, but she didn’t know what the woman wanted. “I don’t know I don’t know!” she squealed.

“What made them put two yellow lines on that hill?” she asked.

“Oh…” Jade bit her lip. She had a feeling this was the last question for a while, and as much as she hated having to answer, she really didn’t want the hairbrush spanking she knew was about to continue. Still, she answered hesitantly, “Because there was… low… visibility probably?”

“That is exactly right,” Lisa said above her, and as Jade knew would happen, she began using the hairbrush in earnest as she lectured. “You thought you knew something, little girl. Thought you knew better. You didn’t know better; you just knew less. And knowing less put you- and me- at serious risk for no good reason.” Lisa emphasized the last three words with particularly vicious swats to the young woman’s sit spots. She continued spanking and lecturing for several minutes, holding Jade in place when she started to struggle. She knew the girl couldn’t help it, but it didn’t slow her down. By the time she returned the brush to the coffee table, Jade’s bottom was hot and dark pink, every inch flushed with the impact of the spanking. The lecture has faded as the cries of “please” and “I’m sorry!” increased, and now there was only the sounds of Jade’s heavy breathing as Lisa rubbed her back with a gentleness that had not yet crept back into her voice: “We’re almost finished.”

“I learned my lesson!” Jade wailed, knowing her belt was laying on the coffee table, knowing it could only be for one reason, and knowing her protests weren’t going to change a thing. Still, she couldn’t help herself. “I’ll never pass another car as long as I live!”

Lisa patted her bottom, not hard, almost business like. “That’s unreasonable. You will obey the rules, though, or you’ll end up right back here. Stand up.” Jade took a deep breath, then eased herself backward, up on her knees. Lisa stood as Jade slowly planted her own feet on the floor, and guided the younger woman’s few steps over, until she was laying over the arm of the couch. Her tender backside was up in the air, toes just barely on the hardwood floor, keeping her balanced. She reached for a pillow again and she heard the clink of the belt buckle being lifted from the table.

Jade bit her lips, trying to prepare herself, as she felt the cool leather rest on the lower curve of her bottom. Before she could formulate a strategy, though, it was up again and whistling back down, landing across her sitspots. “Owwww!” she yelled, drumming her feet pointlessly on the floor. “Twenty-nine more” came the unsympathetic reply, along with another lick of the belt in the same spot. Jade had a moment where she thought having a number would help, but that moment ended as she quickly lost count of the number of times the black leather made contact with the same spot, kissing the meeting of her thighs and bottom.

At number 26, though Jade couldn’t have said what number they were on, she stood abruptly, hands flying to cover her sore bottom. She looked wide eyed at Lisa’s face, but the woman just raised an eyebrow as she continued to hold the belt, ready to continue. Jade kept eye contact, pleading silently for the end, but the only response she got was a question- “Should we start over?”

That was all Jade needed. She practically flung herself back over the couch arm. Lisa didn’t make her wait long. The next lick landed the moment she was settled, then three more, and then it was over. She felt her underwear being tugged gently up, and then felt Lisa settle herself on the couch, a hand running gently through Jade’s hair. Jade stayed that way for a moment, composing herself, before standing and stepping out if her jeans and easing herself down onto the couch, snuggling into Lisa’s open arms. A few quiet minutes of cuddling later, she said “Sorry, Lisa. It really won’t happen again.”

A kiss was planted firmly on Jade’s head as she heard simply from above her, “I know.” Jade smiled and snuggled closer.

That’s a Good Mutual Friend

Standard

David was not a confrontational man. He wasn’t prone to raising his voice. He never interrupted others, even when they insisted on yelling. He didn’t need to. When David had something he needed to say, people listened. Sometimes, it took a look. Sometimes, a gentle clearing of his throat. Occasionally, a loud “Excuse me.” People listened, of course, excluding Emily Anne.

She had waltzed into his life like a gentle tornado several months ago, a date set up by a mutual friend. He found her charming and charismatic, endearing and endlessly frustrating at the same time. And though he knew there was really no such thing as a gentle tornado, he found himself falling for her just the same.

Emily didn’t need to fight to make herself heard, either. She was fiercly independent, the kind of woman who did not ask permission and did so unapologetically. She found David steady and kind, intriguing and genuine, and above all, trustworthy. She was falling for him as well.

When they had their first fight, David was unprepared. It was over such a small thing… he had come to pick her up for a date, and her front door was unlocked, keys dangling from the beneath the handle. He’d grabbed them and let himself in to her apartment with a knock. “Emily?” he had called. He gave her a reproving look as he handed them over. “Be careful, babe. You left these in the door.” Instead of a thank you, she had rolled her eyes as she took them, dismissing him with a flippant “oh I do that all the time.”

“You leave your keys in the door? All the time?” he had asked, his eyebrows raised.

“Not a big deal. Where are we going for dinner?” she answered, brushing him off.

“I think it is a big deal, young lady,” he said, followed by a pause as he tried to mask his own surprise. Young lady? Where had that come from? He continued though, “This is not the worst neighborhood, but keeping your door locked is an effortless way to keep yourself a little safer.” His second surprise came when she didn’t argue or agree, but huffed at him. She huffed!

For her part, Emily had no idea where the huffing came from either. She just felt herself give in to some small unreasonable voice that rarely escaped. In restropect, she recognized that David was the first man she had ever trusted enough to hear that voice, but in the moment she just felt confused, and instead of backing down, she picked a bigger fight. They both got mad. Dinner was cancelled.

A week later, laying in bed at his apartment and both feeling the warmth from a now empty bottle of wine, Emily let the little voice take over again. Playfully she walked her fingers up his bare chest, smiling mischievously until…

“OW!” David yelled.

Emily snuggled closer to him as he covered his freshly pinched nipple. “Oops,” she said. A minute later, her fingers crept back up to his chest, this time taking only a few tiny steps before they were captured in his much larger hand. Leaning his head down close to hers, he said in a scary and quiet voice, “if you pinch me again, I will spank that little backside of yours until you can’t sit still.”

Butterflies errupted in her stomach and she jerked her hand back, tucking her mischievous fingers between their bodies and hiding her face in the crook of his arm. He smiled, though she couldn’t see it. The wine had made him bold, but he had listened to his instincts, and been prepared to apologize if he had read her wrong. It seemed to have paid off.

Two days later, it was date night again. As David climbed the steps to her apartment door, a bit of metal glinted in the evening sun. His expression darkened. Surely not.

Her keys again hung from the door. David grabbed them and walked inside, calling out. “Emily Anne?” though he expected no answer this time; he could hear a hair dryer running in the bathroom. When he appeared in the mirror behind her, she jumped and shrieked. “David! You scared me!”

“That is not all I plan to do,” he said, reaching over to unplug the hair dryer before taking it from her hands and setting it on the closed toilet lid. “You have some thinking to do.” With that, her grabbed her wrist and pulled her into the bedroom, steering her directly into the one unoccupied corner by the bed. Her outfit for the evening was laid out neatly, but for now she wore only her underwear and a blue tank top. “Why?!” she said as he arranged her hands behind her back, and he was pleased and affirmed in his choice by the faint whine he heard there, what he recognized now as a secret and rare glimpse of her most free self.

“Because a certain little girl left her keys in the door. Again.”

Emily made to turn around, and he knew she was rolling her eyes. A sharp thwack rang out, and Emily practically flung herself back into the corner. He had swatted her! And it hurt! She felt her face begin to burn with embarrassment. This was what she wanted, she thought. She had danced around it from practically the beginning of the relationship; it was perhaps the only thing in her life for which she had never directly asked.

David stepped back and watched the handprint bloom on the undercurve of her left cheek, faint fingerprints reaching out from beneath her peach colored underwear. If David had not been David, she would have eventually been forced to have one of those direct and difficult conversations. But perhaps their mutual friend knew more than they gave her credit for, because David suspected exactly what she wanted, and now he felt more confident than ever.

When he was sure that his girlfriend would stay put, at least for the time being, he walked back to the restroom and grabbed the sturdy wooden hairbrush she’d been using when he arrived. He returned quickly, set the hairbrush on the bed and moved her outfit to her dresser. Then he made himself comfortable, sitting on the bed’s edge and watching Emily shift her weight from foot to foot for a moment before he began to speak. “Stop fidgeting,” he began sternly. “You have landed yourself in trouble, and from now on, that is going to include corner time, so I suggest you get used to this position.” She groaned and leaned her head forward, letting it softly thunk into the joint of the walls.

“And when you are finished with your time-out, I am going to put you across my lap and spank your bare bottom.”

“David!!!” she wailed, having been unprepared to actually hear those words, and her hands jumped to cover her backside. He had expected something like this, and easily took the two steps from the bed to her corner and planted a matching swat on her right cheek, more pink fingerprints blooming. He smirked to himself as she went rigidly back into position. She wasn’t the only one who knew how to push buttons. He was thoroughly enjoying this.

He settled himself back on the bed and began to scold her. “I believe I was very clear about my feelings on you leaving your door unlocked, much less having your keys left there for the taking. And I understand that accidents happen, and we all have our moments. But you did not take me seriously the first time I showed concern, so you are going to take me seriously now.” She had begun to shift again as he lectured, and this time he let her. Her time in the corner was going to be over soon. He let her stand for several minutes in silence for good measure, though.

When he said “come here,” she jumped and pushed herself farther into the corner. He kept quiet, and was proud to see her ease herself out a moment later and shuffle to his side. She looked down at him pitifully, her mouth curved in a pout. “Do we have to?” she said softly.

“No,” he replied thoughtfully, taking her hands in his and squeezing them reassuringly, “but we’re going to.” And he pulled her gently to his side and then across his lap. She settled herself, would have even called it comfortable if she hadn’t been so nervous. David didn’t make her wait long. He pulled her in close with his left arm and said, “I think this is long overdue, little love. When I’m finished, you are going to have a very sore bottom, and a new motivation for keeping track of your keys. Is that clear?”

“Yes, sir,” she said into her arms, and though it was muffled, he felt a second surge of pride. Not wanting to make her wait any longer, her raised his right hand and began to spank her. She remained still as his hand bounced on her quickly warming backside, absorbing each swat stoically. He smiled as he spanked her, unsurprised. His instinct to grab the hairbrush had been right; she had never been entry-level at anything, and spanking was no exception for his exceptional girl. He paused and hooked his fingers under the elastic of her underwear, ready with his free hand when she did react with a squeak and a frantic attempt to stop him. He paused, his left hand around her wrist as she clutched the thin fabric with her right hand. “What kind of spanking did I say this would be?”

She jerked her hand free and pulled it back under her, attempting to get out of the question by showing compliance, but he had no plans to let her get away with it. “Emily Anne,” he said sternly, and he could feel her body tense in resistance. Alright, he thought, and he resumed spanking her, underwear still up but his hand now much further down, softer swats because that’s all it took when one spanked a pair of naughty thighs. Emily didn’t think they felt softer at all, and now her feet did kick and she finally yelled “bare.”

He stopped, resting his hand on her bottom again, and asking in the silence, “how?”

She screwed up her face and her courage and said again, quickly but clearly, “on my bare bottom.”

“Good girl,” he said, and then she felt the cool air hit her hot bottom and she attempted to bury her face under the bedspread. David resumed spanking her, a little surprised to see that she still remained fairly still. That wouldn’t last long, he thought, glancing at the hairbrush. A moment later, he paused to grab it, gripping her tighter before resting the smooth wood on her bottom to prepare her. Again her muscles constricted, this time in anticipation, and he proved to be right about her stoicism as he brought it crashing down.

“David! Please!” she yelled, keeping her hands away but moving her backside and legs this way and that in a vain attempt to escape the dreadful sting of the wood on her bottom. “I won’t do it again!”

“Oh, you might do it again. And we will deal with that if and when the time comes,” David said as he continued his steady assault on her backside. “What you will not do is ignore me when I express concern for you, not without facing consequences. Also,” he said, as if it were an afterthought, “no more pinching.”

“Okay! Yes sir. Yes sir. Okay!” she replied. He swatted her a few more times, then set the brush aside and asked, “Are you going to behave yourself for the rest of the evening?”

She nodded meekly, and he swatted her thighs. “Ouch! Yes sir!”

“Good,” he said smiling. He pulled her underwear up and allowed her to stand; she immediately began rubbing her bottom, her bottom lip trapped by her teeth as she hopped up and down. “That really hurt!” she said accusingly, but her expression was more pitiful than challenging. He smiled and opened his arms, whispering gently into her ear a moment later, “Spankings are supposed to hurt. The next one will hurt, too. And the one after that.”

And though she knew it was supposed to be a threat, she smiled into his chest, feeling content and happy, and very very sore.