by Megan McCoy
“Don’t laugh,” I protested. “I’m boggled.”
“I know. I am, too. Why did you jump and squeal and protest angrily the first time or two I swatted your butt? If I’d known…” He looked at me with what I knew was his serious face.
“What? Because… I don’t know. I told you already!” Was I angry?
“Okay. Fine. You don’t want to talk again, as always, so we won’t. Go put the hairbrush by the television.”
As always? What was this ‘as always’ about? That made no sense at all. I always talked! Mostly. Hadn’t I just been talking?
My feet obeyed him, however and began to walk to the TV as my brain screamed and raced. He, however, seemed to settle into the comfort of his role.
This, oddly, suddenly seemed just fine with me. I took the hairbrush out of my purse and set it down where I’d been told. The TV stand seemed an out of the way place for it, but I wasn’t going to ask too many questions right now. It just didn’t seem wise. Maybe he’d decided, since it was me, not to use it? Stranger things had happened!
Turning to look at him, I decided to play along. No matter what happened. What’s the worst? He could let me down again? But, had he let me down? Or had we both let down each other? Or was I going insane? I was leaning toward the latter. I giggled nervously. Here I thought I was coming here to straighten myself and my little brain out. What had happened in the course of the last few minutes? Other than my world upending, and things going all topsy-turvy? Not much, I figured. Just that.
“First things first,” he told me. “So, why are you here? What is this paddling—that is going to happen, by the way—going to help with? What do you need to fix?”
“You know,” I mumbled, looking at my shoes, pink sneakers to match my pink socks. I liked pink.
“I do know. More than you do, probably,” he chuckled.
I loved his laugh. I loved his gentle, yet still wicked sense of humor.
I startled. Loved? No! I’d broken up with him. Yes, I was totally rocking that insane line of reasoning.
“But I need to hear from you, and just remember, any lying or minimizing will earn you penalty swats after your punishment.”
What? Oh. I was talking to Mentor John now, not my darling, sweet Cole. The man I’d broken up with because he could not be both gentle and assertive with me.
Yeah. That.
The big fat liar.
“I need some guidance,” I looked up at him through my non-mascaraed eyelashes. Who needs black mascara rivulets down their face as they cry? Not me. If I’d known it was Cole, would that have changed? Oh, for sure.
But back to my butt and my needs. “My life is screwed up. I need some help getting back on track. I’m being bitchy to clients, snapped at my mom, and not exercising like I should and… well….”
“Do you not understand how to talk to clients?” He asked, almost cutting me off. “Do you have no customer service or sales skills?”
“You know I do!” I flashed back.
“Yeah, you keep proving that, don’t you?” he said. Clearly he was reminding me indirectly of a few bad incidents when we were together.
Ugh. So I slip up occasionally! I’m human!
“That’s not fair,” I protested.
“I’m not here to be fair. I’m here to paddle your butt until I feel you learned a lesson.”
My mouth opened, but nothing came out.
Oh. Yeah. That.
“So what’s the deal with the exercising?”
I could feel his eyes gauging the ten or… maybe fifteen—sigh—pounds I’d gained since we broke up.
“No motivation,” I said, but then stubbornly added, “and no one who cares if I do or don’t.”
He didn’t take the hint. “You should care. You are in charge of you, and pawning that care to someone else should not be an option.”
My eyes fell to the floor. Dang him. It was very frustrating when he was always right. “But…” I started.
“Yeah. Your butt. We’ll come to an understanding soon, me and your butt. In fact, it’s time to start. Head to the corner.” He said, entirely too damn sternly.
What was wrong with me? My traitorous feet headed to the corner he pointed toward as my mouth said, “Oh, no corner time, please?”
“Now.”
Oh. Fine, he was going to be all demanding. I could go along with that. My knees were not shaking. I was not nervous. Well, that nervous.
I reached the corner, turned around once, and opened my mouth to speak. But one look at him and I shut it, and turned back to the corner that he still pointed toward.
“Time to drop the sweats,” he said, cheerfully. “And by the way, good idea to wear those. I’ve seen too many well-paddled women try to pull tight jeans up over a really hot and swollen butt. It never works out well for them. You must have done this before.”
“Not recently,” I reminded him curtly, putting my fingers in the waistband of my pants. Deep breath, Miki, you can do it!
“I’ll take care of that. Count on it,” he said as my courage screwed up and my pants dropped down.
“Well, you’re my first hotel meet. Just so you know.” I told him, feeling embarrassed.
He ignored that little statement of fact.
“Pink panties. Those are new. That color looks good on you. And I’ll make sure your butt matches before I stop the warm up.”
Sigh. Matching. Yeah, that was what I wanted when I picked them out and put them on. Why in the name of all that was understood in the world, was I so turned on right now, instead of totally focused on getting my bad behavior under control?
Cole. His fault.
Pulling my sweats down to just half way down my hips, I stopped, and waited. Thankfully, he didn’t disappoint.
“Might as well just take them off, young lady. You won’t need them anytime soon. I’m going to give you a butt blistering you won’t forget for a long time.”
Oh my God, he knew the words I needed to hear. How?
I did as I was told, starting to feel the familiar flip in my stomach, and south, shucked out of my shoes, wiggled down my pants and stepped out of them, kicking them over to the side.
“Next time you’re standing right there, you’ll be one sorry girl, your butt will be on fire and you’ll really sick of and done with acting the way you have been. Do you understand me?”
“Yes, sir,” I mumbled, bowing my head. I had never once called Cole ‘sir.’ But it seemed right, though I needed to be more concerned with my butt and less concerned with other throbbing parts. Even my boobs had started to ache. For him. Him and his touches. His mouth. His... oh, man. I needed to focus.
I wanted this spanking. Didn’t I?
I wanted this spanking, and I wanted it from him. Right?
Maybe not. But maybe.
Oh yeah.
So fine, I didn’t know if I’d wanted it from him, but I think I really did. But I also really didn’t and dang! I just needed my mind to stop whirling.
I shook myself, knowing that I had better listen and pay attention and pretend he wasn’t—hadn’t been—my sweet snuggle bunny with not one bit of aggression or assertiveness in his body. He was all Mentor John who’d done this since before he met me and knew what he was doing.
Why could I not get my brain to focus?
Why couldn’t I hone in on just the need that brought me here?
It was Cole’s fault. Couldn’t be mine! I was just the innocent party here!
But right now, I planned to go with the flow. I came here for a purpose and the fact my freaking ex was the one doing that purpose, what did it matter? It didn’t.
Did it?
I don’t know! See why I need spanked often and regularly? Just to settle my over active brain if nothing else.
But, I was standing in a corner, with my trusty hairbrush on stand by and a dominant male at the ready. What more could I want?
Not spanked?
Spanked properly?
Well, I
really needed to pee. I guess I should have thought of that earlier. Maybe, hopefully, it was just nerves.
Because I had the feeling he was not only not going to let me go to the bathroom, but was about to upend my life.
Oh, yeah. And my butt.
Sigh. Damn. The situations I get myself into. I think I’d be more worried if this wasn’t, you know, COLE. But while I wasn’t afraid, I should have been more nervous and more focused and I just wished my brain would cooperate some. Just a little? Maybe?
“So. You’re having a hard time controlling your mouth, right?” he started. “You keep doing the same things over and over. Just smart off, hurt people’s feelings, and then you feel bad later. You know better and you should be very ashamed of yourself for behaving like a petulant adolescent. There’s really no excuse for that. I’m going to put you over my knee and paddle you till you understand that is simply unacceptable behavior. Do you understand me?”
“Yes, sir,” I stammered out with my pink panties and my humiliation fully intact and on display. For him.
“I should wash your mouth out with soap,” he continued and I couldn’t help but whirl around, eyes blazing and mouth open to protest. Not Happening. But then I saw his stern look and pointing finger and I quickly shut my mouth and twisted back around, to put my nose back in the corner.
See? I can be intelligent sometimes!
“I was going to wait, but for that little display, miss, I want to see your bare bottom. Pull those panties down and let me see what I’m going to be paddling here in a few minutes.”
Damn. Whoops. Luckily, I just thought that and didn’t say it out loud. How many times had I cursed today? I better watch what actually came out of my mouth because I wanted no soap going in there. Thank you very much!
Swallowing hard despite my dry mouth and churning stomach, I managed to inch my panties down a few inches. Well, then a few more, to the curve right under my now gloriously bare bottom.
He’d seen it before! Why was I so mortified? I bent closer, put my head against the wall, and stifled a moan of dismay and embarrassment.
“That’s exactly what I wanted to see. A naughty girl standing in the corner, her bottom bare displayed, and ready for her spanking.”
I couldn’t stop the moan from escaping this time. What had I gotten myself into?
“Well, you have a gained a few pounds, but honestly, it looks good on you,” he said, and I tried to focus beyond the buzzing in my ears. “And I’m ready! How about you?”
“How about me what?” Okay. So fine. My brain had shut down. Freaking finally. I could not think. I felt sweaty and cold and wanted to crawl into his arms and pretend the last several months had never happened. I wanted to be anywhere but here… and only wanted to be here.
Sometimes it was just hard to be a girl.
My ears buzzed louder and I swear I felt a little lightheaded. Maybe a lot.
Not My Fault! His.
Then his voice burred into my brain, cutting through all the fuzz. “Come here. Now.”
No! I was not asking, thinking about, or glancing toward, the hairbrush halfway across the room.
Would you? I didn’t think so.
But, I took a deep breath and turned around to face him and the music. Thanking my good common sense for wearing the long t-shirt that covered everything I wanted covered. At least covered for the moment. I knew it would be riding up soon. But, well. You know. My front was covered as I walked. Little things mean a lot!
The armless chair he’d been sitting in earlier while we were talking, had moved to the middle of the room, and he sat on it, patting his lap invitingly.
I almost whimpered. I’d seen that same gesture many times before.
That used to mean a lovely lap sit and cuddle for me. Now, it meant I was about to get my rear lit on fire. My mind felt as if it were imploding. This was all just too weird. I could barely breathe.
I had so many things I wanted to ask him, talk to him about, but decided, another time, another day, that I’d wait.
Until this was over.
Then he’d figure out who didn’t talk—as always, indeed! Because I’d explain to him-who-didn’t talk!
“Now, where do naughty girls who can’t control themselves or their mouths belong?” he asked helpfully. As if I’d forgotten, or didn’t know, or hadn’t been the one to set this up. “Assume the position, Miki.”
If you’ve not tried it recently, walking with your panties around your thighs is not very graceful. And it’s very, extremely, most horribly, embarrassing.
But, I managed it, and then the humiliation factor quadrupled as his hand found my arm and tugged gently. I sighed heavily, whimpered just a little, and assumed the age-old position. I’d been here before, but not recently, and never with Cole. When we played, we’d always been in bed and it just wasn’t the same at all.
But oddly enough, it felt, if not comfortable, at least right and natural.
Weird.
My face and my emotions flooded as his large warm hand patted my perfectly poised posterior. Well, it was perfectly poised, after he’d adjusted me to his specifications. He moved his leg, I felt my bottom rise, and my legs spread despite my best efforts to clench.
“You have no clue how many times I’ve wanted to paddle this butt,” he chuckled.
“Then why didn’t you?” I stiffened and almost decided to get up. I could stop this at any time, after all.
“We can discuss that again later. I have the feeling we’ll be talking about both our confessions a lot, real soon,” he said, still stroking and gently rubbing.
I would not, would not, let him know I was wet or wanting, and he had better not check. I clenched my legs together tightly, squeezing, not that it was going to do me much good for very long. But, hey, a girl needs her modesty, you know. For a while, at least.
Yeah, that would help.
Not.
Except for the part where I’d wanted to be and now was bare assed across a man’s lap, this session was not going like I’d planned at all.
But I’d known nothing was going to happen the way I’d planned since Cole opened the door. That too, turned me on and made me, sort of, kind of, very happy. Except for the part where he was planning to….
“Right now,” he continued, as if my brain wasn’t racing again and I was actually, you know, paying attention to him. “We’re concentrating on your misdeeds and needs.”
With that, the first smack came down, much harder than I expected.
“Ow!” I couldn’t help it. “What, no warm up?” I jerked as the second sharp smack came, but managed not to squeal. I could take anything he dished out. You wait and see.
“Young ladies who can’t behave don’t deserve a warm up,” he informed me. Another one. Damn! I mean, Dang! Watch the mouth, Miki, I warned myself. See how quickly I learn? All done now!
Or not.
The hand that wasn’t smacking my butt rested on the small of my back. I’d been spanked before. I knew that meant he would be holding me still, and down, when I started wiggling and squirming and trying to dodge, and could grab my hand in case it flew back. Yes, I knew better, and right now they were both firmly on the floor, but you know, sometimes it still happened. Involuntarily, of course. Sad but true.
“Now, let’s see if we can convince this naughty bottom to change your behavior,” he said. Then he started spanking for real, and it was a very, very short amount of time, that the fleeting thought of being brave and composed and pretending I could take it flew out the window with the rest of my dignity.
“Who is going to be kind and thoughtful to people?” He asked while slamming his huge hard hand down on my already stinging butt.
“Me!” I replied promptly, with feeling. I learned a long time ago that arguing while in this position really wasn’t a good idea. See how smart I really am? All I need is motivation. Pretty sure I was getting some right now.
Agree and go along with anything the mean person says and, o
h, yeah, beg for mercy. For some reason, it never really helps, but it always seems like a really, good, smart and intelligent thing to do. I like to be good, smart, and intelligent. Often.
“What are you going to do when you want to be nasty and say insulting things,” he brought that hand down over and over on the same left cheek and I kept trying to wiggle to at least get that side out of his reach. It wasn’t working but there was nothing on my mind but to keep trying. It hurt it hurt!
“What?” I asked thoughtfully and with much feeling. Because, you know, I’d forgotten the question. I almost wept with gratitude as he switched his punishment to the other side. For like half a second. Before—ow—it didn’t matter!
“Pay attention,” he scolded. “Your mouth. What’s going to come out of it when you lose your temper?”
“Nothing!” I squealed. “I promise! I’ll be good now!”
Okay. I had thought this was going to be a good idea why? A spanking, I decided was not a good idea at all, ever. Never. No.
I had no clue at the moment, though a tiny part of my brain reminded me it would seem like an excellent idea later. My pink stocking clad feet flew up, trying to block the access to my butt. Somehow. It couldn’t hurt to try!
“That’s right,” he said, approvingly referencing my “be good’ answer.
But giving him the right answer sure didn’t seem to stop the smacks raining down and I was obligingly giving over some wonderful squeals and protests. My rear end felt as if it were already hot, red and, well, hurt! When suddenly, it stopped.
I lay across his legs, weak, panting, sweating, and semi sniffling and disappointed as hell. Is that all there is? When, suddenly, it crossed my mind. Oh. Yeah. It wasn’t over. That freaking painful episode was only the warm up.
Well, if I was going to hairbrush fetch, he was going to have to tell me to do it, because I sure wasn’t volunteering.
“Thank you for teaching me a lesson,” I said, sounding properly meek and remorseful and grateful. I was so good. Yes? No?
Sigh.
“You’re very welcome,” he replied with a hint of amusement in his voice, while his hand rubbed my very warm bottom. “So, what did you learn, exactly?”
Oh, that felt good. Nothing was as good as a gentle bottom rub after a spanking. I sighed and relaxed a little. This was Cole after all. He probably didn’t have it in him to use the hairbrush. Right now that was just fine, beyond fine. Well, but for the niggling part of my brain that wanted…more....
