Thoughts
(In The Mind of a Spankee)
By ~Velvet Dreams
Fuck. He looks mad. He can't be serious. I was dumb. I mouthed off when he got mad at me for blowing a stop sign when we were driving back from the movies. He wasn't even being all that mean when he chided me about that being stupid and dangerous, he was just concerned. I got mad at him, because I don't like being told when I'm wrong. I apologized but I snarked. It sounded sarcastic, even to me, and I felt like an ass. Oh fuck, he is serious. He's got a belt in his hand? But…this isn't his thing, he doesn't do this.
He wouldn't- he won't. Oh my Gods. He's pulling a barstool into the middle of the room? I'm going crazy. I don't know weather to be horney or scared, and with the look on his face I'm thinking this isn't foreplay. No, no… aww, man, and it's totally my fault. I am toast. I can't even be mad about it- I'm not mad at him anymore. He was right to begin with, and he never would have suggested this. But I decided to get all cocky- and said " Okay honey, I'm sorry for being a bad girl, you should spank me when we get home." Big mistake. Bigger mistake to taunt him about it after he responded that he thought it sounded like a great idea. I swear- I thought he was kidding.
Shit. He's got my wrists in his hands. Man. Girl, think of something to say. "Honey, I'm sorry. Really, I am."
He smiles a little. I relax a tiny bit. He says he thinks maybe I am, and hopes so, but isn't sure weather or not to believe me. I hold my breath and mouth the words 'I'm sorry' again. 'I promise to stop mouthing off like a teenager every time you point out something I could do better.' He smiles and I feel relieved. Until I realize my wrist is still gripped firmly in his hand.
"That's great honey. I'm sure this will help you remember that in the future, just before you think of something snappy to say."
Oh my God. He's going to spank me anyway? This can't be happening. It is. I feel mute. I want to say something, but everything is going into surreal step-time. He's making me bend over the barstool. Now my nose is pointed at the carpet. 'Whhhack! '
I didn't even see it coming, and let out a "Yeowch!" You say, "This doesn't count as anything more than a warm up dear- I know you too well."
I gulp and hold my breath for a second, waiting. 'Whhack!' 'Whhack!' The belt criss-crosses my backside, landing on one cheek and then the other. 'Whack! Whack!! Whhack!' It lands again, making thunderous cracks. Somewhere in the middle of that I find my voice again and cry out again. Damn, that stings. This can't be happening. "Owww!" He's totally doing this, I can't believe it. 'Whaack!' "Owwwch! Honneeee!"
"Don't 'Honey' me," he says, sounding annoyed. "For at least the next few minutes - " 'Whack!! Whhack!!!' "I have every intention of- "'Whack!!' "Oww." 'Whhack!!' "Reacquainting you-" 'Whack' "With an age old tradition--" 'Whack! Whhack!' "that has worked to improve the behavior-" 'whack! Whack!!" "OWW!" "of countless generations of rebellious bratty teenagers!" 'Whack! Whack! Whack!!' "Owwwwwweeee! Ow. Owww.""And you may well not be a kid anymore, but I get the feeling that this is sinking in anyway." 'Whhack! Whhhackk!'
"Owww. I'm sorrreee!" I respond to the rain of blows. The response is automatic, an involuntary grab for a get-out-of-jail almost free card. He pauses, and something tells me that I'm in way more trouble than I thought. A voice in my head that I haven't heard in decades is suddenly very alive and internally wailing 'I am soo dead, oh man, I'm in BIG trouble!' The voice is apparently just as accurate as it always was.
I don't even have time to really think about anything, my prediction is simply coming true almost as I think it. He demands, "Get that skirt up, now."
"Noooooo…" I wail softly, but even as I am pleading I have straightened up enough to pull my skirt out from under me and am raising it. It's like a zombie is moving my hands, pulling my skirt out of the way, bending back into the proper position, and grabbing the lower barstool rung. This is going to hurt.
He waits. I hear him make a murmur of appreciation while gazing on my panty clad bottom, and I smile for a second. The anticipation kills the smile pretty quick. I remember that I am in the process of having my backside turned red. It already stings like mad, and I notice that the brief pause has allowed the fiery hot sensation to catch up with my skin. It couldn't possibly hurt more than it did when he was actually smacking it, but somehow it does. He places the belt against my butt, and holds it there while he starts to talk. I'm miserable.
"That little warm up," (little? Warm up. Oww. ) "was just because you were being bratty, and well, you're a grown woman. Knock that off." (ouch. My pride.) " Now, onto the real matter at hand, which has nothing to do with your demeanor. It has to do with driving a car without paying attention. That's dangerous. I love you. Even though it was tongue-in-cheek I think that you might have been right to ask for a spanking," (owww. Nothing like being reminded of how I got myself into this mess in the first place. Fuck. He's still holding that mean belt right there.) "And I intend to make sure that in the future I won't even need to remind you to watch yourself when you're driving. Is that clear?"
I must have zoned out on his words, although I really was listening. It's just that my brain was firing in a hundred directions at once. I didn't answer, and that was a mistake. Suddenly the belt lifted, and came down again. Rapidly, in succession. "It's clear! I'm sorry!" I squeal. He smacks my ass with the belt at least 20 more times. I'm surprised that I'm not crying, because it definitely hurts. I am never blowing a stop sign again, I am quite convinced. He pauses again, and rubs across my back gently for a moment. I can still feel this crackling in the air though, he's all business.
"Panties down." He commands, and shakily I comply. I'm beyond protesting now, and feeling dizzy and dazed. "You get a dozen more, but I won't make you count because you won't be able to." And just then the belt exploded across my bare ass, and he was whipping me with good hard cracks, way harder than before- which I would have thought was impossible. I find myself squealing like a little kid, promising everything, and then bawling. It stings like hell, my whole butt and my upper thighs, and I'm sure it's glowing crimson.
He helps me up and hugs me close, and I bury my face in his chest. I no longer care about the fact that my panties are around my ankles and my skirt is mussed, I just care that this guy loves me. And he's holding me. And my bottom's on fire, but suddenly I don't care so much.