by Megan McCoy
“Panties, too. Girls who sneak and lie get paddled on their bare bottoms, so those aren’t needed, either.”
Shorts were easy to kick off. Panties involved shimmying. And wiggling and bending… but she managed with only a modicum of mortification. The wisp of silk joined her shorts and she bent forward slightly to hide her face, knowing it arched her bottom out some, but still.
“Good. Now. Go fetch the hairbrush,” he said and she heard him sit down in the chair.
No! Not that! “It’s upstairs,” she said.
“I didn’t ask you where it was. I told you to go get it.” His voice was calm and flat and she turned to see him rolling up his sleeves, leaning back in his chair, relaxed and waiting.
“Yes, sir,” she said, dropping her t-shirt so it was covering important parts. She hardly ever called him sir, but during a punishment session, it just seemed right and proper, somehow. She didn’t question it, just went with it.
Heading out of the room, Holly tried to decide if she wanted to dawdle, because spanking, or hurry because irritated male meant worse spanking. How could it be worse? It couldn’t. Dawdle was the decision, put it off as long as she could.
Then she heard, “By the way, you better be down here before I count to ten. One, two—”
Her feet flew up the stairs, she grabbed the hairbrush from the bedroom dresser without contemplating what would happen when she returned, and rushed back into the office.
“Eight, nine… good deal. I was going to add however many swats on to how many seconds you were late.” He held out his hand for the dreaded implement.
Holly didn’t think she’d actually made it up and down the stairs in less than ten seconds, but she sure wasn’t going to argue with the man who now held the hairbrush.
“Over my knee. Assume the position.” He motioned and she looked into his eyes.
“Please? I don’t want a spanking,” she said, stomach clenching. She didn’t want to whine, but she didn’t want what was about to happen either.
“Then you shouldn’t have done something to deserve one,” he said, almost cheerfully. “Buns up. Over my lap. Now.”
Did he have any clue how hard this was to do? Arrange herself willingly over his knee? Opening her mouth to beg one more time for mercy or leniency or something, she saw his head shake slightly. Holly let a small whimper escape, but then shut her mouth, and bent over his lap.
Hands forward, toes on the floor, for at least a second or two before she started kicking her legs. The girls in videos she watched occasionally—just occasionally, really! They either got much less of a spanking than she did or had much more self-control. She tended to think it was the former. Nobody could spank as hard as Eric, she was certain.
Luckily for her, he didn’t spout nonsense like ‘hold still’ when there was no way she could. Before very long at all, she’d be trying to cover her bottom with her hand and attempting to block that hairbrush with her kicking feet, and vigorously wiggling, striving to slide off his lap. She knew it, he knew it, and she figured secretly he appreciated her reactions to his efforts. Just lying there and taking it would be boring, at least it was in the videos. Why did they want them to just hold still? She never understood it.
Plus, she always thought he’d paddle harder if she didn’t react to what he was doing, and who wanted that to happen? Not this girl. He paddled way too hard in any case, not that she could convince him of that, of course. The few times she’d tried to tell him that, when he wasn’t spanking her, he just laughed and said, “I know your limits and your bottom can take a lot more than I give you.” Mean male.
“Huh, that’s funny,” he said. “I can’t see your butt. Pull your shirt up. I need a good target.”
Holly whimpered again, as one hand reached back to pull her shirt up, and he grabbed it while it was there, and held it in the small of her back. This was not good. He meant business.
She wiggled, trying to get more comfortable in this awkward and embarrassing position. He’d seen her in all positions, of course, but this one was not like sexual positions. It felt way too vulnerable and she felt way too exposed, and they both knew why. She wondered if he’d let her up if she said she had to pee? Doubtful.
“So explain to me in small words my poor male brain can comprehend why your butt is about to be lit on fire,” he said, rubbing her bottom with the cool wood of the hairbrush. She didn’t want to think of how good that felt.
“I’m sorry,” she gasped out.
“Not as sorry as you’re going to be,” he said cheerfully. Why was he in such a good mood? What was worse, a pissed off male with a hairbrush or cheerfully determined one? Did it matter? The end result was the same. Pain in her rear.
“Did I ask if you were sorry?” The hairbrush rose and fell across both her cheeks with a loud crack that made her squeal and jump.
“Ow!” she complained. He obligingly smacked her again and she wiggled.
“Answer my question,” he said. “Why is your bare butt over my lap?”
“Because you told me to put it there!” Holly wailed.
He cracked the hairbrush down again. “Is now really the time to have a smart mouth?”
“Maybe!” she sniffled.
“Talk now,” he smacked her again in the same spot, “because in a few minutes you aren’t going to be able to.”
“I’m sorry!” she said, promptly, “I was sneaking drinks in the middle of the night.”
“That’s right,” he said approvingly.
Despite the knowledge of what he was going to do, she wiggled a bit, happy to have pleased him. Not for the drinks, which obviously did not please him, but for saying what he wanted to hear from her.
She just wished the blood wasn’t rushing to her face and her nose wasn’t sniffing carpet, and his eyes weren’t gazing on the probably pink splotches on her bottom. They didn’t even hurt right now, but she knew that wouldn’t last long.
“Why is drinking bad?” He smacked again and made her give a startled jerk.
“Drinking isn’t bad,” Holly said quickly, and quite intelligently she thought. “It’s sneaking and lying that’s bad, and not doing what you told me to do.”
“See how smart you are with a couple applications of hairbrush?” he replied. “Imagine how well your brain is going to work when it’s done with you.”
“No… please?” she whimpered. “I’m sorry.”
“Oh, I know you’re sorry, now. This is to help you remember next time,” he smacked her again and she wiggled. Cause and effect.
“Ow! I’ll remember!” she promised.
“I know,” he chuckled again, and her spanking began for real. His usual method, as she knew from too much experience, was to warm her butt up by lighting it on fire with a volley of quick sharp smacks that would make her stiffen and cry out.
Then he’d stop a while and lecture, and expect her to answer, which was hard when her brain was totally focused on her bottom, and not on the words coming from his mouth. He’d do that a time or two until somehow he knew she was no longer able to answer. Then he’d just spank with no let up, until he decided she’d had enough. She always thought she had enough way before he did. She didn’t get a vote, though, which hardly seemed fair.
In the books and stories, she read, she knew some people over a lap tried to be stoic, the, ‘I can take whatever you give me,’ kind of mentality. There was also, the, ‘She took her spanking so well,’ school of thought, and personally, she thought that was ridiculous. Why? She had no desire not to explain to him quickly and loudly that it hurt and she didn’t want anymore, and even less to take it well. What was the point in that? None. She was going to wiggle and squeal and complain and cry and beg, and now was just a real good time to start.
“Ow! No more, please! I’ll be good!”
“Seriously, Holly? You think you’re going to get by with that?” he asked.
“No,” she panted, confessing, “But it made you stop for a second.”
&
nbsp; Eric laughed. “Yeah, that’s true. Won’t make that mistake again, will I?”
The hairbrush began to rain down again, and Holly kicked and twisted, and tried to get away from it, or at least put a fresh spot in place of one that had already been hurt.
“Not so hard!” she shrieked. “I’m sorry! I’ll be good! Not there, not there! Please!”
“Not where? There?” He smacked right where her thigh met the crease of her butt about six times straight while she stiffened and wailed. “Huh, must be it,” he said, entirely too calmly.
Most men, she figured, if they had a wiggling, screeching female over his lap, would be a bit upset, or reacting in some way. Not her guy. He just held on and smacked merrily away, as if it didn’t even matter what she did. Why that made her feel safe and secure when he was the one causing her pain and distress, she didn’t know. Holly just knew it did. She tried not to overthink it. It got complicated way too fast if she did, so she didn’t. Very often, at least. Sometimes she tried to think about it, but now was not one of those times. Now there was burning heat completely and totally occupying her thoughts.
Finally, she realized he’d stopped spanking and she sobbed over his knee, trying to catch her breath.
“So,” he said, rubbing her bottom gently. She almost purred it felt so good. He needed to do that more. “Tell me why you have yourself over my knee this time?”
“Because I was bad,” she choked out.
Eric smacked her hard and made her howl. “You are not bad, try again.” He gave her one more for good measure.
She knew her butt had to be bright red, already, and she was smart enough to know they weren’t nearly done. She wanted to be done. “I did something you told me not to do,” she said between sobs. She was trying to accept blame here, why did he not understand that, or that it was hard to talk.
“Why did I tell you not to do it?” He smacked her again. Sometimes during her mid-spank lecture he would smack her ten or more times, and she never knew when they were coming. Or where they would land, and all she could do was stay held firmly over his lap and listen very carefully to the hairbrush wielding man. Must get the answers right!
“Because I need to rely on you, not a bottle for comfort!” Ha! See, she knew the answer to that one.
“And?” He smacked again, and she wiggled hard trying to shake the sting out of her burning bottom.
“And?”
“What else?” he asked.
“I don’t know!” She gave a few hiccupping sobs. “Really, I don’t!” She just wanted out of this position and to be in his arms.
“You went behind my back to do it. I won’t tolerate lying, even by omission and you know it,” he said, bringing the hairbrush down a few more times. She could hear the thud of the wood on her skin, and it was not her favorite sound at all.
“I’m sorry,” she said promptly. “I won’t lie to you ever again!”
“I hope not,” he said sadly, and her heart clenched.
She knew his history and vowed not to be the next one to hurt him. Which was ironic considering he was planning to wear a layer of skin off her butt right now.
“Ow!” she screeched as he began the next volley of smacks on her poor already abused bottom.
Vaguely she could hear the smack, smack, smack as the hairbrush hit her bottom. His belt was a softer sound, oddly, but equally as nasty, in its own special way. Weirdly enough, it was also the thing she preferred, other than his hand, for erotic play. But how could she even be thinking of these things now?
Suddenly she couldn’t, as he pushed her to another limit and all she could say was, “Okay, okay, okay, no more, please, please! I’ll be good no more okay!”
“Oh, much more,” his voice floated into her frantic brain. “This is going to be a lesson you won’t forget for a while.”
“I remember!” she sobbed, not sure what she was remembering, just needing him to stop. She could not take this, she could not, that was all there was to it. She was done, done, finished! How could he not know that?
“I think I’ll remember now, thank you for the spanking, I won’t ever do it again,” her brain said as her mouth emitted, a long, “Ah-ow!”
Then simply tears.
She couldn’t kick anymore, she felt nothing, thought of nothing but the fire in her bottom. Her breath came in huge hitches and she knew she had a pool of tears and snot on the rug in front of her. Collapsing over his knee, she submitted, gave up, and he finally stopped.
Thank you, God. Or Eric. Or something.
She never, never, wanted that to happen again, but she did want to put out the fire. He moved his knee and she jumped up on very shaky legs and grabbed her bottom, rubbing frantically.
In some small portion of her brain, she knew she had to look ridiculous, hopping around the room with her hot red bottom held in both hands, nose sniveling, and tears rolling down her equally red cheeks. Did she care?
Not one single iota.
She just needed to rub harder for the burn to stop, and then she needed to be in his arms. Two small simple things and then life would be complete. How hard could it be?
Still rubbing frantically, she pranced, sniffling and hiccupping, over to where he was now standing by the chair and threw herself at him. It was his turn to deal with her. Time for him to comfort and soothe and make it all better. She could not wait. It was her favorite part.
Well, other than looking in the mirror after, of course. But that could wait. Right now, soaking his shirt with her tears, telling him she was sorry, and would never do it again, and feeling his strong hands gently stroking her steaming rear, was more important than anything else in the entire world.
Chapter Two
“Good morning, Sunshine, how’s the butt this morning?” Eric pulled Holly to his naked chest, and snuggled her close.
“I don’t know,” she moaned. “I’m sleeping. Leave me alone.”
“I don’t want to,” Eric started stroking her back.
“Is it time to get up?” Holly half-opened one eye and looked at the alarm clock. Not even five. She had lots of time to sleep if he’d let her.
“I’m already up. Wonder what we can do about that?” Eric continued to rub her back, in longer and stronger strokes. Despite her desire for sleep, her desire for him began to grow.
“Ignore it and hope it goes away?” She smiled sleepily and arched her back for his ministrations.
“Well, if you’re too tired and want to sleep…” he stopped stroking and rolled over on his back, and began to fake snore.
“Touch me more,” she wiggled her butt at him. Yeah, it was still a little sore, but not too horrible. Why she liked the fact he made her butt sore was beyond her, but she did, and they both knew it.
“That’s not what you were saying last night,” he opened one eye and peeked at her. “It was all ‘No. Don’t! Stop! Quit!’ I remember. Might give a man a complex.”
Holly was wide-awake now. If he was going to wake her up, he had better be planning to give her a good reason to be awake. “Poor man with his complex. Is that what we’re calling it now? A complex instead of a hard on?” She reached down and stroked the aforementioned complex gently.
“Hey, you try having a naked, wiggling, squirming butt across your lap and see what happens.”
“Don’t think it would give me a complex,” she giggled, and felt him grow even larger in her hand as she gently pumped him, stroking down the long hard length of him, and feeling the bit of pre-cum wetness on the top, and his thick hardness all the way down to the sacks beneath.
Amazed as always, Holly marveled how the stern, commanding male who paddled her butt and caused her such pain, was the same gentle tender lover and coconspirator in giggles and fun times. She had no fear of him, and yet she knew with no doubt that he would turn her over his knee and paddle her until she was a sobbing mess anytime he thought she needed it. Strange but true.
Stranger and truer was the fact that it made her feel safe and lo
ved. Despite her distress when she knew a spanking was going to happen, she adored and loved this man more than anything she ever had loved before or would ever, in the future. She knew this, but didn’t know if it was because he realized she needed her butt paddled or in spite of it. She tended to think the former. She didn’t need to know. Sometimes she wondered if he knew.
“I didn’t have a bad dream last night,” she told him.
“Noticed that. Think a hot butt had anything to do with that?” He pulled a nipple into his mouth and made her arch and moan.
“No,” she said quickly and flatly. She did not want a spanking every night!
He laughed and nuzzled her breasts.
“I think next time you have one, I’ll paddle your cute butt before we go to bed the night after and we’ll find out. What do you think?”
“I think if I know waking you up in the middle of the night with my nightmares means I’m going to get a spanking, I’ll be very tempted not to do it,” she said, honestly.
To his credit, he paused and considered that. “Okay. I agree. Right now, the most important thing is that you learn to rely on me, the guy in your bed, for comfort and not that bottle in the cabinet.”
“I’m not a lush!” she protested, needing him to know that. Though, really, he already did. But sometimes she needed to say it out loud. “I hardly ever drink, and never to excess!”
“I know that,” he rolled on top of her and pulled her arms over her head, then bent down to nibble at her nipple again, making her gasp in delight. “Let’s celebrate that fact, okay?”
Happy and willing, she agreed to celebrate anything he wanted to celebrate. However, he wanted to do it, because mostly he had very good ideas on what to do for and with her. How did she get so very lucky?
* * * * *
Holly dared a quick peek in the mirror as she toweled her hair dry after a leisurely shared shower. Usually Eric left her a few little red marks on her butt to look at. She smiled remembering the first time he told her that he purposefully did that for her.
“Made sure you had something to look at in the mirror,” he whispered in her ear while holding her after a paddling.
