A Wild Night On the Island & Other Stories

by Lizbeth Dusseau

  "You're going no where," he said, and he brought the hairbrush down again.

  "You bloody ass! Stop it!" she wailed.

  "No! You stop!" Travis roared back. "You're going to get the spanking of your life and there's nothing you're going to do about it!"

  Travis proved his words. The hairbrush came down for a whole series of stinging swats, until that Brooke's jiggling bottom was turning pink. The staccato sounds ringing in the air joined Brooke's spit-fire protests.

  "You stop this, you friggin' bastard!" she blared.

  But Travis wasn't stopping.

  "You cold-hearted SOB!" she roared again. "I hate you!"

  But still, he prevailed. Cold-hearted no more, his emotions were on fire. Her crimes, his hurt, her cries, his anger were all there, taking the calmness away. Yes, this was justice! he was thinking to himself.

  Hearing the smack, smack smack, it was the best he'd felt in weeks! He watched his wife's behind turn from pink to blushing red. Her two plump cheeks were blotchy from the blows. And noticing to his delight, that she was particularly pained when he struck the tops of her thighs, he made certain he hit her there often. She literally shrieked from the pain.

  "Ouch, Ooo. Ouch, stop!" she begged him after he'd gone on about ten minutes.

  There were tears in her eyes, the hurt so great, she'd never ever felt anything like this before.

  "Please, please stop!" she began to plead. The angry tenor of her protest finally turned into an impassioned whine. The pain was sheer agony. Even when she thought he'd surely end this horror, he was only pausing. The smack, smack, smack began again, renewing the sting, and the pain, and her flowing tears.

  "How can he do this!" she wailed silently to herself. But she had no answer, just the incessant burn that made her sob even harder.

  When Travis finally felt his wife relent and fight in her diminish, he knew she was succumbing to the treatment. He began to slow his passionate pace. He finally ended it with two especially harsh whacks on either cheek.

  Laying the brush on a table beside him, Travis placed his hand on Brooke's roasting derriere, and felt the extraordinary heat flowing into his hand.

  "I think if I could do this daily, I might smack some sense into you," he said. "But since you've chosen your own path, we'll let this one punishment suffice to pay for your crimes. Your life's your own from here on, Brooke. Good luck."

  Giving her one parting smack with the palm of his hand, Travis pushed her from his lap. Brooke slumped to the floor, finding herself looking up at Travis's once cold, once angry, and now just sorrowful face. Saying nothing more to her, she watched him rise, proceed to the door and pick up his bags.

  "I hope you're getting what you want," was his parting comment.

  Too tongue-tied to say a word, Brooke watched her husband disappear out the front door, as the most bizarre feelings were suddenly raging through her heated body.

  Was it desire, arousal, lust? she was wondering. Good god, it couldn't possibly be!

  ***

  For all Brooke's indignation, for all her fury, and angry determination to wreck revenge on her contemptible husband, the spanking mystified her. For days she ran the scene over in her mind. The argument, his accusations, the hairbrush, his fiery smacks, and even the brief ending moment when he laid his warm hand on her hot bottom.

  She couldn't remember when she'd been so humiliated. And yet, she couldn't remember when she'd been so aroused. For the first time in a year, she wondered if breaking up her marriage was the right thing to do.

  ***

  Some weeks later . . .

  "Yes, I'd like an appointment with Mr. Chase," Brooke said, confirming her simple request with the young sounding secretary in Travis's office.

  "And you are?" the girl asked.

  "Brooke. Tell him Brooke would like to see him."

  "And he knows you?" the sweet voice replied.

  "Yes, he does. I'm Mrs. Chase."

  "Oh, yes, my." The girl sounded flustered. "I didn't know."

  Didn't know what? Brooke wondered. That he was married? Certainly five weeks of separation, he hadn't stricken her from his life that soon. But maybe so. He'd been so definite when he left, no room for compromise. And he hadn't called her once in all that time. She wondered if this was a foolish idea thinking he'd change his mind about their separation.

  At five o'clock that same day, Brooke walked into her husband's familiar office on the tenth floor of the imposing high-rise. Announcing herself to the pretty blonde secretary, she waited for an indication to go inside, when weeks before, she'd probably just have barged right in. Their changed relationship made her much more cautious.

  "He'll see you now," the girl announced a few minutes later. With far more trepidation than she was accustomed to, Brooke walked gingerly into Travis's office.

  "My, you're looking well," he said, taking a quick perusal of Brooke's simple white sheath. "Something new?" he asked.

  Brooke looked down at her clothes, "Yes, thank-you. I bought it yesterday."

  "Ah, I see. I suppose I'll be paying for it soon," he said sarcastically.

  That was a shot, but she tried to ignore it. Of course he'd be paying for it, they weren't yet divorced.

  "So tell me," Travis continued. "How are you getting on?"

  "Pretty well," she replied.

  He looked at her curiously. "And I owe this visit to?"

  Brooke sighed, taking one long deep breath. If ever this required boldness, now was the time. And still, she wasn't sure she could admit what was foremost in her thoughts. Would he laugh at her? Would he even take her seriously? Most of all would she be making a complete ass of herself after having practically driven him from their house?

  "Brooke?" Travis spoke again, taking her from her brief reverie.

  "Yes. Travis," she addressed him clearly. "I was thinking, perhaps we've both been too hasty to end our marriage. I thought maybe we should reconsider."

  Travis sat back in his chair casually and eyed her for some minutes, looking as if he was considering her suggestion. Clearing his throat, he leaned forward. One lock of his normally well-groomed brown hair fell across his brow. Such a sexy look, she was thinking. "Actually, Brooke, I talked to my attorney today. I suspect you'll have papers by the end of the week."

  "Papers? The end of the week?" she replied back astounded. "Separation papers?"

  "Divorce papers," he corrected her in a quiet voice. The words alone were harsh enough.

  "Oh. I didn't know."

  "Didn't know what, Brooke? Isn't this what you want? Aren't you happy with your boyfriend? Can't you just wait to tie the knot again? I understand he's living with you."

  "How do you know that?" she asked suspiciously.

  "Oh, I've been spying on you," he replied.

  "Spying, you ass!" she was suddenly indignant, and completely forgetting her purpose.

  "I'm only kidding. But your boyfriend's hardly discreet. I don't think there's anyone downtown that doesn't know."

  "Well, I wonder if everyone will be as quick to discover that he's left as well."

  "Left?" Travis looked curious.

  "Yes, left. I ask him to go three days ago."

  "I see. Not all paradise, I guess."

  "Yeah. But it's more than that."

  "Go on," Travis said, leaning back in his chair again.

  There was something in his mellow brown eyes that was wooing Brooke again. For the life of her she couldn't understand why; but, between the spanking, Travis's sudden spark of fire that last night, and all the rich memories she'd been dwelling on about their better days as husband and wife, she felt certain that to let him go, she'd be loosing something very special.

  "I want you to spank me again, Travis," Brooke suddenly blurted out.

  "What!"

  "Spank me. Like you did the night you left."

  "Are you totally daft?"

  "No. I know it might seem that way, but . . . the truth is . . . " this was the wor
st possible thing she had to admit, but she couldn't stop, she promised herself, "I can't get that night out of my mind. For the first time ever you really got angry at me, and you did something about it. And . . . I think I really needed that."

  Travis's blank expression revealed none of what he was thinking, a fact that only made Brooke more anxious. She waited for several minutes, thinking perhaps she should explain more. But then she didn't know what to say.

  "Well, I see," Travis finally broke the awkward silence. "You want me to spank you? What's the purpose?"

  "I want to see if I have the same stunning results I had before."

  "Stunning results?"

  "As much as it hurt like hell, and pissed me off, it turned me on," she replied. She could feel a blush rise as she confessed.

  "Ah, so this is sexual?" Travis concluded.

  "Yes. But not completely, not in that way. I liked you being forceful. I think I need that."

  "Humph. So what's your thinking? I start spanking you, it's going to heal our marriage?"

  "I don't know, but it might help."

  Travis considered the proposal as he often did such quandaries: with a studious expression and not an ounce of emotion.

  The waiting was excruciating as Brooke watched the man ponder her request.

  "I don't know, Brooke," he finally answered. "This kind of throws me. I was angry that night. I'm not angry now."

  "But surely you could think of something to be angry about. It's not like I haven't given you enough reasons."

  "You're right there," he admitted. "But does this mean you want this as a regular treatment? You misbehave, I paddle you bottom, and all's well?"

  Brooke shrugged, and smiled. She could already feel a tingling sensation between her legs at the very thought. Her bottom was beginning to burn though he hadn't laid a hand on her.

  "Well. I suppose it's something to consider. But mind you, Brooke, I don't trust you. I'm not sure a hundred spankings would help me trust you. In fact, I wonder if this is just another of your ploys to have me back because you finally realized that your boyfriend's a jerk."

  "See. There a perfectly good reason for you to spank me: because you think I'm trying to trick you."

  "You really want it that bad?" he asked. He was becoming more visibly aroused by the thought. His eyes were beginning to flare as they had that night. As his emotions engaged, Brooke became all the more exited by his reaction.

  "Yes, Travis, I do," she replied.

  "Well then, stand up, young lady and bare your bottom for me. I think leaning over my desk will suffice this time."

  The immediate command took her off guard. "What! You mean here? Now? Your desk?" Brooke's eyes were suddenly wide with apprehension. When she'd hoped for a positive answer, she certainly hadn't expected this right in the office.

  "What better place?" he said. "You really want it, you can prove it. Right here, right now."

  "But the noise?" she wondered aloud.

  Travis shrugged.

  He was positively ruthless, the way he sat behind his desk waiting for her response, his eyes looking so coolly impassive. For an instant she wanted to leave, thinking this was the stupidest thing she'd ever done. Then, she remembered how she burst with sexual thrill the hours after her spanking, and how she was beginning to burst right now, at the thought of it happening again.

  Rising from her chair, Brooke began to raise her skirt.

  "Look at me," Travis ordered her as she blushingly tried to look away. His voice was that same demanding tone he'd used that fateful night.

  Turning to him, keeping her eyes on his face, Brooke complied with his wishes, raising her skirt above her waist and then lowering her panties. Without prompting, she completed his instructions, and leaned over the desk, just as she watched her husband rise from his chair.

  Opening his desk draw he pulled from it a wooden ruler. It was a fine wooden ruler made of mahogany that had been part of an executive desk set she'd bought for him when he opened his office.

  "This should do," he said, taking the eighteen inch long piece in his hand. Might not pack quite the punch of the hairbrush, but then I think it has its own charm."

  Brooke couldn't believe that he was actually smiling, deviously so; but that only made the moment more exciting. Acknowledging her arousal this time, when she'd ignored it before, she couldn't wait for Travis to begin.

  Coming around the desk, Travis stood behind his wife for sometime, admiring her lovely behind. The first time he'd spanked her, he hadn't had time for such pleasures, but this time, he let the moment linger, knowing that as he pleased himself eyeing his wife's two exquisite cheeks, she was also suffering as she should.

  "Maybe, you're getting what you need, Brooke," he finally said, and with no further preliminaries, he drew his arm back and let her feel a good sharp smack across the center of her bottom.

  "Yikes!" Brooke cried out as much from shock as pain.

  "You're better hold your tongue, love, you have no idea who might end up listening in."

  Another whack over top of the first, and with this one, she kept her cry to herself. A half dozen more, and he could tell that she could hardly contain herself. Though having no desire for the whole building to hear of her agony, she kept her replies to simple grunts and groans.

  As the spanking continued, Travis watched his wife's rear end, and the lovely blush that was rising steadily. He placed his smacks all over her rounded cheeks, finding great pleasure making certain that she got a thorough treatment. He remembered how much she hated those at her thighs, so he laid several at the fleshy tops of her legs and then lower. It satisfied him to hear her simple moans, suddenly turn into more anxious and animated ones. His favorite trick, however, was smacking the exact same spot over and over, right in the center of her bottom. Hearing her cry out, when she was trying so hard to be quiet, was satisfaction all its own.

  Finally thinking she'd reached the limit of her endurance, Travis slowed the pace until he stopped altogether. Waltzing around to the opposite side of his desk, he replaced the ruler in his desk and sat down.

  "There. Was that all you wanted?" he asked her.

  Looking up at her, Travis could see the trickle of tears that were falling from her eyes. She didn't make much noise crying, but he could tell it was with good reason.

  "You can get up now," he prompted her when she failed to rise. He watched as she gingerly stood again, and even more gingerly replaced her panties and lowered her skirt.

  "Hurt?" he asked.

  "Yes," she replied, sorrowfully.

  "You get what you came for?" he asked.

  "I think so," she replied.

  "Something else you wanted?" he asked. All the fire in him was gone, replaced now by a stony cold detachment.

  "I was hoping maybe this would lead to more?" she asked, meekly.

  "More spanking?"

  "Maybe, but I was thinking perhaps dinner?"

  "Aroused?"

  "Yes."

  "And you'd like me home in bed tonight?" he wondered.

  "Yes," she answered truthfully.

  For Brooke, the conversation seemed to be going exactly as she hoped.

  "Well, my dear Brooke, I wish I could help you out, but I have date with my secretary tonight. I've already kept her waiting so I think we both need to go."

  Stunned by the message, disappointed and embarrassed, Brooke turned away quickly, more tears threatening to spill down her cheeks. Fleeing the office as fast as she could go, she didn't look back at Travis, or even check to see if the efficient young blonde at the secretary's desk had heard her tuneful complaints.

  ***

  A week later Brooke was home alone doing what she'd been doing all week long: thinking about the horrible mess she'd made of her life. A wanton affair, a broken marriage, two humiliating spankings from an efficient but uncaring husband . . . what more could possibly be wrong, except a mountain of bills, the dreary job prospects facing her, and an the empty bed upst
airs?

  She'd never been one to fret over her troubles, but these were really troubles now, and she could hardly see her way through them.

  Sitting down to her lone dinner in the kitchen, Brooke heard a distinctive knock on the front door. Getting up from the table, she answered it, surprised to see Travis standing there, looking more light-hearted than he'd been in months.

  "It's a good thing one of us is happy," Brooke acknowledged his friendly expression. "You want to come in?"

  Opening the door, she turned around and assumed that Travis would follow. Back in the kitchen, Brooke returned to her meal, only casually mentioning that she could cook something for Travis, if he was hungry.

  Declining her offer, he sat across the small breakfast table, and looked at her sincerely.

  "I think another spanking is in order," he finally said. "What do you think?"

  "Another? But . . ." She had a mouthful of food and could hardly talk.

  "If you want me to take your proposal seriously, we'll be doing a lot of this."

  "Taking my proposal seriously?" she wondered aloud.

  "Yes, seriously."

  "So you're moving back home?" she asked.

  "Not yet. Don't jump the gun. We have a few things to work out first." His amiable mood was changing to exceedingly serious one, more like she was used to. "I want things perfectly clear about your getting spanked."

  "Spanked?" She thought she sounded like a real stooge repeating back what he said, but she couldn't think of anything else so say.

  "Isn't that what you want?"

  "Yes but . . . " She'd stopped eating, her stomach suddenly churning too much to put another thing in it. "What about your secretary?"

  "That was just a first date, and just something friendly," Travis replied.

  "You led me to believe. . . "

  "I led you to believe nothing. Maybe you assumed."

  "So you considered my proposal?" she asked.

  "I think, we should try this one more time, and see what happens."

  "You mean spanking."

  "I mean paddling your butt until it burns like a bonfire."

  "Oh my! And then what?"