by Megan McCoy
“That I underestimated you, I guess,” I said.
“That you did, young lady. In more ways than you know. Catch your breath yet?”
His hand left my bottom and he moved his legs so I had to scramble to stand up before I fell on my nose. “You know what to do.”
“Go to the corner?” I asked innocently and started in that direction.
“Don’t play dumb,” he laughed and despite the warmth on my butt and knowing what was happening after, I smiled too. But!
What?” I stalled, wondering what he would do if I threw myself back over his knees, instead of trotting over to pick up the hairbrush. But, again, rule number 3 or 7 or something said, ‘never play stupid during a spanking.’
He just pointed toward the TV… and the mean and evil hairbrush.
So I kicked out of my panties—they were at my ankles anyway, and who cares at this point—and let my long shirt fall to cover what it could as I walked my red face and probably pink butt on shaky knees to the to fetch the brush.
Wincing as I looked at the hairbrush, I rubbed my warm butt with both hands quickly, then grabbed it and turned back.
“Do you have to?” I whined with the most pitiful pathetic tone I could put into my voice. “My bottom already hurts and I think I learned my lesson.” Whoops. Screwed up there, didn’t I? Would he notice? Of course he would.
Because of course. “You’ll know for sure and not just ‘think you learned it’ before we’re done,” he assured me.
Yeah, I was afraid of that. It was the reason I was here, and what I wanted. But, still. Ow….
Chapter Six
I looked at him again, with some new respect, but with great confusion. How could he have hidden this side of him for so long from me and why did I never bring it out in him? I’d been a brat a few times during our relationship. Maybe. Probably.
It was that consent thing, wasn’t it? He had to have it before he would do this. I’d given it to him anonymously. Luke had taught me that. There was always consent, at some point at some time. Cole finally had consent.
“Back over, Miki. Get your bare butt over my knees so I can blister it good for you. You know you not only want it but you deserve it. Let’s straighten out your life. Move.”
Oh, yeah. That. I did. It’s why I came. I’d forgotten already. My butt was still warm, but that was all. If I left, if he stopped, with just this reminder, it wouldn’t be good at all. Well, it would be good, because while I needed more, I really didn’t want more. But I did. I know. And yet. And… whimper.
If he did it right, I’d be bawling, begging, kicking and snot nosed in a few minutes. If he didn’t do it right, I’d walk out of here with only my dignity lost, and nothing to show for it.
Neither of those options sounded very interesting or appealing to me right now. I didn’t want more spanking. And yet, I didn’t want to walk out here with my dignity intact. And yet. I didn’t want this from him. But, damn. I did.
Conundrum.
Would I rewind time and not come? Oh hell no. Oh heck no. Watch your mouth, Miki. He doesn’t like cussing. Probably even in your mind.
Though nothing anymore actually was my choice, now was it? All the power was with the big guy waiting for my bare butt to plop over his lap. He could either do it or not.
Prove himself to my kinky side. Or not.
“Now,” he said softly but convincingly.
Taking a deep breath, I managed the four steps back with the hairbrush in hand, and was suddenly inspecting the carpet again, with a whoosh as my breath rushed out when my stomach hit his legs. The rug was blue, kind of a dark blue, recently vacuumed, in case you were wondering and about half inch away from my nose. Smelled vaguely of floor. I wondered if it would be damp from tears before I was back up and off his lap.
One hand braced myself up so I didn’t get rug burn on my forehead, which would not be attractive at all, and the other grabbed the chair leg and hung on for dear life.
That came in handy when suddenly I was pushed even further over, just one knee and his other leg held both mine down.
Dang it! This meant seriousness. My butt was high in the air. Exposed. I couldn’t wiggle much, or kick, or ‘accidently’ slide off his lap onto the floor for a quick break. The man knew what he was doing.
Whimper.
Where was the hairbrush? Oh, yeah. In his hand now. I remember.
Then I stopped wondering or thinking or imagining much of anything else as the hairbrush started explaining the facts of life to me. Oh, yeah, I remembered those facts. It was an age-old story. Been around since the beginning of time, I figured. Hairbrush, bare bottoms, sobbing, begging females, and determined males who refuse to quit till the job was done, well and properly. You know that one? I’ve read it before, but it never gets old, and usually does an excellent job of reaching minds and hearts and changing behaviors.
I began whimpering and trying to squirm within seconds after he started applying the brush to my already warm rear.
I already knew he could see everything I had to offer in this position and it didn’t help he seemed to be enjoying himself way too much, adding a running commentary.
“Oh, yeah, now I’m getting your attention. Don’t you feel like a big girl now, with your panties off and your bare butt over my lap being paddled? You ought to be ashamed of yourself, getting in this position. I’m going to make sure you remember this every time you sit down for the next week.”
And while he was talking, the hairbrush kept whacking merrily away. It seemed to be enjoying itself a lot. I felt like seriously questioning my judgment. I wanted this why? Sought it out even? Right now, I just wanted it over. It hurt! How come I always forget the pain? How much it hurts?
There comes a point, for me at least, where I feel like I just can’t take it anymore and I’ll do anything—anything—to get it to stop. It has to! I can’t take it! I just want to get up, move, leave. It has to stop! Period. I think it’s called fight or flight. I just want to leave, be done, and still, whack, whack, whack. I can hear the wind rush, and feel his arm move and know when it’s going to land but not where.
I can hear my voice. “Ow! I’m sorry! Okay, okay, okay! I’m done, please! I’m sorry, I’ll be good, I promise!”
Which I think the guy with the hairbrush just tunes out. I’m not sure how they know when you are done… I should ask sometime. I just know that its way after you think you are done. Maybe when their arm gets tired? Poor tired arms. Not.
You try explaining that to the person wielding the hairbrush that you are quite finished, have properly learned, will never do it again and honestly, they act like they don’t care.
How cruel can you be? And often they say things like, “You haven’t had near enough yet.” Which is ridiculous, because how would they know? Is there a secret code only spankers know? What is it? I mean, I’m telling them! What more do they need, a certified letter?
I always figured the earlier you started explaining you were quite finished, thank you, the faster it got over. I’m never certain how this works for me, but with your ass in the air and your nose on the carpet, really, your options are somewhat limited.
“Cole! Please! I’ll be good now! I’m sorry. I’ll watch my mouth. Ow, ow, please! I’m done! No more, I’ll be good!” See, that sounded quite convincing, now didn’t it.
“What are you going to do when you want to smart off?” He asked.
“Be good!” I howled. Was that the right answer? I fervently hoped so because suddenly the hairbrush found that tender spot where my bottom and my thighs met and started to smack, smack, smack there as I screeched like a crazy thing.
“Not there! Not there!” I tried to wiggle, but it wasn’t working for me. He had me positioned just right. The sane part of my brain was in awe of his technique. Definitely something we needed to discuss at some point, because ow!
Mayhap I should try harder to convince him he’d done a good job? Good plan!
“No more! I’m do
ne! Please!” I sobbed. Oh good, tears and snot in one lovely package… that never happened to the girls on the videos I watched. How come their noses never ran?
Crying was generally cathartic for me, a tension release. Or it would be once I could concentrate on something other than the fire in my butt. That was one good thing about my painful rear – made me forget about the snot running from my nose.
“Please!” I cried. “No more no more. I’ll watch my mouth! I’ve learned my lesson!”
Or at least, that’s what I meant to say. I’m sure it probably came out more, “Waa!” Just like the well-paddled little girl I felt like I was.
I was certain it would be over soon. Surely, he realized that the tears and the remorse were real. That I’d learned the lesson he and the hairbrush had been teaching. That I would feel the reminder every time I sat down for a while. Come on! I’d had enough.
And yet, the hairbrush still was thwacking my hot red and probably swollen bottom.
The hairbrush continued smacking down, over and over, and he was saying something about something, but I could no longer hear them over the fire in my butt and my own extremely undignified yowling.
Finally.
Finally.
It took about ten hours, I think, for my brain to register that he’d stopped spanking me. His hand was still on my back, so I wasn’t going anywhere. Crying, sniveling, and sobbing, all I wanted was to get up, rub my butt, and do the dance. You know the dance. Where you stomp your feet and rub your butt with both hands and howl. Yeah, that dance. But seemed my dance card had been filled for the moment.
Suddenly the hairbrush cracked down again and I shrieked. I wasn’t expecting that!
“Let’s have a little chat, Miki,” as it came down again, thwack.
“No more,” I sobbed. “Please!” I thought we were done.
I guess I was wrong.
“I’m in charge here, and I’ll decide when it’s over, and when you’ve had enough.” Another firm smack made me cry out again. And see? I told you they always said that. I was quite sure I’d had enough. I guessed he hadn’t received that certified letter.
“It hurts,” I sniveled out, wishing I could blow my nose, wishing I could stop that undignified kicking of my feet.
“It was supposed to hurt. If it didn’t, you wouldn’t learn. What did you learn, Miki?” Another solid smack that made me jump and wonder if I’d be bruised forever.
“That my bottom hurts and you spank too hard,” I wailed and was sure I heard him chuckle. Dang him. “I mean, I should be nice to people and watch my mouth!”
“Good girl,” he said approvingly. “Why?”
Oh, I knew the answer to this one. I was smart. “Because I don’t want paddled again!”
He answered that with another hard thwack of the hairbrush. I squealed and tried to squirm away as he said, “Well, I guess that’s one good reason. Think of another one,”
Fine. One day he should try thinking with a throbbing butt and all the blood rushing to your head and needing to blow your nose.
Ah. Let me try this one. “Because I should be nice?”
“Because you—” another too hard smack just to make me stiffen and howl. I knew it. “Not only should be nice, but you are nice.” Three hard thwacks in a row.
“I am? I mean, Yes! I’m nice!” See. I knew not to argue with the hairbrush wielding man. Nothing dumb about this girl.
“Let’s make sure you remember that, then,” and he let loose with a volley of smacks to my poor bottom that made me screech and twist and try desperately to get away, then suddenly I was up on my feet.
How did that happen? Didn’t matter. I took the four steps to the tissue box while frantically trying to rub out the fire he’d lit in my butt, and then kneaded with one hand and wiped my nose with the other. I tried valiantly not to dance much, but dang, dang, dang! I’d been spanked before, but Cole knew what he was doing.
I got my nose blown or at least wiped, and was able to frantically rub with both hands. I had no desire to look at him watching me. I knew exactly what I looked like, with my mussed hair, runny nose, tears streaking my cheeks and my bright red bottom, like the well-paddled, properly punished girl I was.
Was it over, I had to wonder as I started to calm down, and then rubbed the fire down to only embers. Ouch. I knew I’d be sitting gingerly next few days.
If you’ve not been thoroughly paddled, you don’t realize it not only hurts your skin, but that your deep down butt muscles can ache for days.
It took me a few minutes to calm down, but I did. I caught my breath and stopped the stomping dance. I felt the glow.
Then.
Despite the embers, I felt a little calmer. I wiped my nose again, and turned to him to do my part. I knew what expected of me. “Thank you for the paddling, sir. I appreciate your time and effort,” I paused. “Good job.” I said it reluctantly but I said it.
“I’m glad I didn’t let you down,” he said, solemnly.
I stood, waiting, until he stood up and put the brush back on top of my purse. I assumed that mean it was over. For reals this time, as my nephew likes to say. This time I was not disappointed. He’d done a proper job.
“You didn’t,” I assured him. “Today.” Might as well keep telling the truth.
Cole pulled some lotion from a bag I hadn’t noticed. “Want me to rub your butt while we talk?”
“Yes,” I couldn’t help whimpering. “Hug first please?”
He grinned at me and my already shaky knees almost gave out on me. He opened his arms and pulled me into a long snuggly hug. And I let this go, why? I’m an idiot. Never again though. That spanking taught me many things.
“Come over, stretch out on the bed,” he said, and as I’d been doing most all day, I obeyed him. Glancing at my panties on the floor, I ignored them, trotted my flaming bottom over to the bed, and plopped down, feeling my t-shirt ride up. Didn’t matter. He’d already seen it all.
“So talk to me,” I moaned as I felt his large, gentle hands begin to stroke the cooling lotion on me. “I mean, really. What the hell, Cole? We dated for a year and I didn’t know this about you.” I hiccupped and sniffed, and wanted to blow my nose again. “Why not? Am I not trustworthy? I thought we had something. Did you not trust me with your story?”
“Same reason I didn’t know it about you?” he suggested. “I tried a few times early on, but you always over reacted, so I just backed down. I only take on willing and wanting partners. You didn’t want it, so I gave it up. Obviously you trusted me about as much as you think I trusted you.”
A stab of anger struck sharply. That hurt. But I pretended it didn’t. “Over reacted? What does that even mean?”
“I’d swat your butt and you’d swat my hand. Roll your eyes. Act irritated. Spankos don’t act like that.” He poured cool lotion on my bottom and started rubbing.
I didn’t purr out loud, but I wanted to. Oh, that felt good.
“Well, I guess some of us do, don’t they?” I retorted. Of course I did! Adults didn’t want to be spanked! And I was—had been—in my adult stage. Did he forget already?
“You were always a challenging one,” he said, still stroking. He was as good at that as he was at spanking. I couldn’t believe he’d kept that skill from me, too. Mean, mean, mean! Here I was with a sore throbbing butt that he had caused, and the idea that he could withhold the fact he could give me one, made me call him mean. If I didn’t hurt so much, I’d smile. But not yet.
“And a real spanker wouldn’t have tolerated as much nonsense as you did,” I informed him as haughtily as I could with my feelings hurt and my naked butt being stroked.
“Real spankers don’t go around spanking any female they meet or date, you know,” he said as his fingers slipped between my legs. Obligingly I parted them for him.
Sigh. I know.
“We should have worked on our communication,” I told him.
“It’s not too late. First thing on the agenda is how ofte
n have you done this since we broke up?”
I was pretty sure he didn’t mean meet a male in a hotel room, or spread my legs for probing fingers. Well, if you need to know, my own fingers? More than a few times. Fingers belonging to other people? Not once.
“This?” I asked innocently.
“I still know where the hairbrush is, and my belt hasn’t had a good work out in a while,” he said mildly.
“I don’t want a belting!” I stiffened and then relaxed under his gentle ministering.
“Then talk to me,” he said.
“It’s not been a good few months for me,” I said, tears once again pricking my eyelashes. “I know spankings used to make me feel better, after they were over. I don’t really care for them during.”
He laughed. “Yeah, I could tell. But that’s normal for most of you who need them.”
“But you’re the first one I’ve ever done this with. First mentor I’ve met for this. Luke was the only other one who spanked me before you. But I know other people who have met mentors from that group you’re in, so it’s not like I didn’t know it happened, or that it wasn’t safe, mostly.” I was justifying myself to him why?
“I believe you,” he said. “A couple of my friends said you contacted them to make sure I was okay.”
I half nodded. Yeah, I had. “Can’t be too careful.” My bottom was feeling much better already.
I reached around my psyche and mulled. “I just was ready to jump out of my skin, and I knew what I needed. So, the universe steered me to you. Or something…” I trailed off.
This was my ex-boyfriend. The universe had not steered us to be together happily ever after. It was just a small geographic area and we both had needs. That was the only reason we managed to end up in the same room at the same time with the same agenda I was sure.
I knew I’d still be sitting carefully for a while, but he’d put the fire out and the embers glowed very sweetly. I wanted to go look at my butt in the mirror. Why? Well, to see, of course!
