SONGS FROM THE WOODSHED

2005-12-11T08:08:00.000-08:00

KATIE’S RED WAGON
by Alex B.

The moment Katie Bingham opened her purse to
pay for lunch, she knew she was in big trouble.
The problem stemmed from the fact that this was
not the purse she normally used, it was sort of
a spare. Unfortunately, the last time she’d
worn it, she put some important papers inside
and then forgot all about them.

“Great!” Katie sighed.

Her workmates, Rachel and Liz, looked up from
their desserts.

“What is it?” Rachel asked.

“I’m totally busted.”

“Relax,” Liz chimed in. “If you forgot your
wallet, we can cover the check.”

“Thanks,” Katie said, giving her friend’s hand
a pat. “But that’s not it. I just realized I
forgot to send in our car insurance payment.”

“Uh-oh! Bill’s not gonna like that!” Rachel
chided, waving her fork as she spoke.

“I know. I’m going give him a call and get it
over with.”

Katie reached into her purse and took out her
cell phone. She pushed a few buttons then put
the receiver to her ear.

“Bill Bingham.” her husband answered.

“Hi, it’s me. Listen... I’m in kind of a fix.”

“Are you okay?”

“Yes, I’m fine. I... well, you know how I
was supposed to mail that insurance payment?”

Bill waited a moment before speaking.

“You mean for the cars?”

“Yep.” Katie squeaked, scrunching up her face.

“That was nearly a month ago!”

“You hate me, right?”

“Seriously! That means we’ve been driving
around without insurance for weeks now!
All you had to do was write out a check and
mail it in!”

“I know. I’m sorry. I just-”

“No it‘s okay. I’m at my computer right now.
I’ll go to the company website and if the
grace period hasn’t already passed I’ll make
a payment online.”

“Thanks, baby.”

“No problem. But you know, I’m going to paint
your wagon bright red when you get home.”

Katie paused for a moment and then laughed as
if she understood Bill’s little joke.

“Okay, I‘ll see you then. Bye.”

Katie turned the phone off and carefully tucked
it back into her purse.

“Is he pissed off?” Rachel asked.

“No. You know Bill, he’s a big teddy bear.
He did say something kind of strange, though.”

“Strange?” Liz inquired.

“Yeah. He said he was going to paint my red
wagon or something like that.”

The two other women looked at each other and
then burst into laughter.

“What?” Katie said, wanting to be in on
the joke.

Liz simply waved the question off, but Rachel
was quick to respond.

“Well, I don’t know how to tell you this,
darlin',” she said with a smirk. “But you’re
in for a spanking.”

As the women walked the four blocks back to
their office, Katie lagged a few steps behind
her friends until she eventually slowed to
a halt.

“You’re just kidding about that red wagon
stuff, right?"

Liz and Rachel stopped and turned around.

“Of course! She’s just kidding.” Liz replied.

“Like hell!” Rachel said. “Whenever my mother
told me she was gonna paint my wagon, I got
my bottom tanned real good! And if my daddy
said it, I’d be doin' the strap dance in
no time!”

"The what?" Katie asked.

“Okay, cut it out now!” Liz told Rachel.

“What?! It's that little dance you do while
you're bawling your eyes out after a hard
butt whippin'."

Rachel then demonstrated by hopping from
foot to foot and rubbing her rear end as she
pretended to cry.

"You are so ridiculous!" Liz giggled as she
looked around to see if anyone was watching.

The next few hours found Katie at her desk
trying to concentrate on her work. But Bill
and Rachel’s words kept echoing in her head
and she was starting to remember her husband
referring to her bottom as a “little wagon”
on several occasions.

“Get your little wagon in here!” he’d said,
folding back the sheets and covers at bedtime.
Quite often, Bill had stood behind her in the
kitchen, admiring her fanny. “You have the
cutest little wagon.” he’d say.

It wasn’t so little, actually. By magazine
standards, Katie’s rump was oversized.
In reality, however, it was simply full,
round and womanly.

And now her husband was going to paint it
bright red.

Recollections of spankings she’d received
while growing up played like old movies in her
mind and though she never felt permanently
scarred by these experiences, they were not
fond memories. Katie shifted around in her
chair as if the seat was growing hotter with
every thought of a hand or hairbrush smacking
her tender bare bottom.

At five o’clock, Katie attempted to make a
quick exit from the office in the hope of
avoiding Rachel.

“Off to the woodshed, huh?” Her friend called
out from the copying machine.

Katie displayed her best fake smile and gave
Rachel a dismissive wave as she headed out
the door.

The traffic she encountered on her drive
home may have been slow, but Katie’s mind
was racing.

She stared at the rear end of the station wagon
directly in front of her and couldn’t help but
notice the color.

“Bright red.” she whispered.

The fact that Bill had used these words worried
her, because he wasn’t a half-way kind of guy.
If he started in on a project, he kept at it
until it was finished. When they played cards
or a board game, he played to win. So it
naturally followed that, if the man she loved
was going to spank her, it was bound to be a
bona fide bottom-scorcher. It wouldn’t be some
playful display of ass smacking, but a
full-fledged, over-the-knee extravaganza with
real swats, authentic tears, and no small
amount of true humiliation.

Katie’s buttocks clenched as she imagined her
husband standing in the doorway of a woodshed,
paddle in hand, motioning for her enter.

She made a grab for her cell and speed-dialed
his number.

“Hey there.” Bill answered.

“Hi. So, what are you doing?”

“Nothing. Just sitting here at home, waiting
for you.”

“Well, I’m on the way.”

“Good.”

“Um, listen,” Katie started, her mouth going
dry as she spoke. “Am I really in trouble?”

Bill waited a moment before answering.

“What do you think?” he said.

Katie swallowed hard.

“Oh... okay. I’ll see you soon.”

“Love you.”

“Love you, too.” Katie managed to say before
turning off the phone.

Katie was finally resigned to the fact that
she was in for the spanking of a lifetime,
because nothing Bill said meant “yes” more
than the words: “What do you think?”. From the
first time she’d asked if he wanted to fool
around to that morning when she saw his sleepy
face at the breakfast table and asked if he
wanted some coffee, “What do you think?”
always translated into: “Do you even have
to ask?”

By the time she pulled into the driveway,
Katie’s mind was swirling around like an ice
cube in a delicious cocktail made from equal
parts of raw anxiety and animal lust with just
a drop of dread.

She opened the front door to find Bill standing
in the front hallway.

“Do remember that spanking fantasy you had-”
he asked. “The one you talked about when we
saw that old movie?”

Katie had to think back, but it didn’t take
very long.

Once, while they were cuddling on the couch
after watching a black and white classic on
television, she’d told Bill how much she liked
it when the handsome leading man threatened
to take the spoiled heroine across his knee.
She then went on to confess that she’d often
daydreamed about a strong man pulling her
across his lap and spanking her like a
misbehaving child. When Bill asked if she
wanted him to spank her right then and there,
she declined explaining that only under
the right circumstances, when she really
had it coming, could she accept that sort
of treatment.

“Oh, yeah.” Katie said, her knees going week
at the thought of her husband recalling such
a brief, intimate moment.

One of the many qualities that endeared Bill
to Katie was the way he remembered everything
about her. If she mentioned a fondness for a
certain kind of wine or food, that’s what
she’d soon find on their dinner table.
Bill remembered every place on Katie’s body
she liked massaged and every place not to
tickle her. He’d even developed a knack for
renting the videos she’d most enjoy. And when
it came to sex, he always knew just which
buttons to push, especially the ones nobody
had ever touched.

“I think it’s time you got that spanking.”
Bill said, slowly folding his arms across
his chest. “What do you think?”

Katie’s eyes darted down to Bill's shoes.
She then glanced up to his face again.
He didn’t look angry. In fact, even though
his expression was quite stern, a subtle
smile seemed to be forming at the corner of
his lips and his eyes greeted her warmly.

“Yes, Sir.” Katie heard herself say as she
placed her purse on the small table next to
the front door. She caught a glimpse of
herself in the hall mirror and seeing the
blush that had come over her face sent an
electric chill throughout her entire body.

Bill pointed into the next room.

“In there, young lady.” he commanded.

Katie took a deep breath and somehow managed
to put her feet into motion. She stepped
hesitantly in front of her husband, half
expecting a sharp swat to her backside as
she passed. Instead, she quietly entered the
living area to find that Bill had placed one
of the armless chairs from the dinner table
in the center of the room. Suddenly, she felt a
strong jolt. It was Bill taking her by the
wrist and pulling her to the chair.
Placing Katie to one side, he seated himself
and looked up at his breathless spouse.

“You need to have your little wagon painted
bright red!” Bill stated. “And I’m just the
guy to do it for you!”

With that, he hooked his right arm around
Katie’s waist and hauled her unceremoniously
across his lap.

Katie was shocked, not just by the forcefulness
Bill displayed in taking her over his knee,
but by the fact that he’d used, word for word,
the exact dialogue spoken by the leading man
in the old movie they’d watched. Before she
could ponder whether he’d gone out and rented
the film in order to reenact the scene, she
felt the first of many stinging swats to her
upturned fanny.

The slaps fell hard and fast onto the seat of
Katie’s modest silk skirt. She gasped at the
severity of one particular smack that caught
her off guard just as she’d placed her hands
on the floor in an attempted to make her
position slightly less precarious.
This thundering whack was quickly followed by
another and another, each a bit harder than
the last. Soon Bill was administering the kind
of walloping his wife had both cringed at
and craved.

Katie hissed and yelped with every smack to
her tender, quivering buns. Her eyes filled
with tears. Her round, swelling buttocks burned
as if she were sitting in a bowl of hot water.
Her face burned as well and the tears that
trickled down her blushing cheeks did nothing
to wash away the shame. Katie wasn’t prepared
for the feelings she was having. Being spanked
so soundly was painful of course, but it was
the embarrassment of the situation that seemed
impossible to withstand. Bill had yet too bare
her bottom or use an implement on her and here
she was already crying, already squirming and
beginning to kick. The humiliation was
overwhelming and yet it was this very factor
she seemed to hunger for more than anything.
It was like a tonic, frightfully bitter to
the taste, but healing in effect.

Bill’s firm hand continued to deliver heated
kisses to his wife’s reddening fanny, driving
her deeper into the world of salty tears,
sizzling flesh and an intoxicating sense
of complete disgrace.

Soon after Katie had fallen limp over his lap
and her cries had become pitiable blubbering,
Bill decided to bring the spanking to a close.
He stopped swatting and instead applied a firm
yet soothing massage to her raw, red, aching
ass until she was done sobbing.

“Okay, now stand up.” he said, giving a Katie
a pinch to grow on.

Katie pushed herself from Bill’s lap and
reached back to grab two handfuls of that
wonderful burning sting in her throbbing ass
cheeks. Then she unbuttoned her blouse and
opened it until it slid down her arms and
fell to the floor. Her bra, shoes and skirt
were next.

Bill stood as he watched his love push her
panties down past her knees.

“What are you doing?” Bill asked. “Nobody goes
bare ass in one of those old movies!”

Katie kicked her undies off toward the couch,
took her husband’s face in her hands and
planted a long, passionate kiss on his lips.

“We’re not in a movie, sweetheart.”
she panted. “I want the full treatment.”

Having said this, she pushed Bill back into
the chair and threw a few locks of hair over
her shoulder before laying across his lap
once again.

“Are you sure?” Bill asked.

“What do you think?” Katie replied, wiggling
her bare, pink bottom as she spoke.

Bill lifted his hand and began spanking his
wife just as before and yet this was a
completely different experience for Katie.
Now that she’d been warmed up and the initial
shock had dissipated, she could enjoy it all
on an entirely different level. Her husband
was swatting away with every ounce of strength
he’d used earlier and now that she was naked,
the smacks stung that much more,but Katie was
loving it. With anxiety removed from the
equation and shame no longer an obstacle to
her pleasure, she not only welcomed the
blistering heat of every swat,but eagerly
lifted her bottom for more. Mrs. Bingham had
had acquired a taste for this medicine and was
quite willing to beg for another spoonful.

A few tears still escaped her eyes, but Katie
was no longer crying out but grunting and
moaning as she pressed and rubbed herself
against her husband’s leg. Bill gave both of
Katie’s thighs firm squeezes between powerful
spanks and soon his hand was venturing upward
to tease her glistening sex with the tips of
his fingers. Katie was delirious with the rush
of differing sensations. She found herself
squealing, then groaning, then giggling as her
hubby alternated between slapping her ass and
tickling her pussy. Before long, the swats were
arriving a good fifteen seconds apart, each
slightly weaker than the one before, with a
good deal of finger play in between.

Without warning, Bill stopped everything and
pulled Katie from his lap as he stood up.

“I’m not done yet! You've got something else
coming to you!" Taking her ear between his
thumb and index finger, he lead Katie to the
corner of the room near the bookcase.
"This is a good place for a bad girl to take
a time out."

Katie looked at Bill in disbelief and then
bowed her head.

"Yes, Sir." she sighed as she headed into
the corner.

Then Bill stepped forward, blocking her path.

"You are not bad, however.” He lifted Katie’s
chin so that they were looking directly into
each other's eyes. “You’re just a little
forgetful sometimes. And that’s no so bad,
is it?”

"No, Sir." Katie answered, barely able
to breath.

Their lips met and they kissed with abandon.
Eventually, Bill managed to push himself away
for a moment.

"Now ditch that ‘Sir’ business and get into
that bedroom, young lady! Like I said- you've
got something else coming to you!"

Katie did as she was told.

“You are talking about fucking the hell out
of me, right?” she asked knowingly as she
entered the darkened bedroom.

Before the question had completely left her
lips, Katie heard the distinct sound of a
zipper being lowered followed by four very
familiar words:

“What do you think?”

THE END

2005-09-12T07:47:00.000-07:00

THE MYSTERY OF THE BATON ROUGE
by Alex B.

The name’s Jack Wayne. I’m a private detective.
It all began on a sweltering Friday in June.
I was sitting behind my desk thumbing through a
paperback of "9 & 1/2 Weeks" and sipping a glass
of bourbon when my secretary stuck her head into
the office.

“Hey, Jack.” she said in an annoying tone.
“Jack, put the book down for a minute!”

“What is it with you?” I growled. “You always
butt in right when I’m getting to the best page,
Betty!”

“Excuse me for interrupting your reading hour!”
she replied, tossing a handful of her long
jet-black hair over her shoulder. “But I thought
you’d like to know that there’s a lady out here
to see you.”

I sat up and quickly tossed back the whiskey.

“Send her in.” I said as I shoved the glass,
the bottle and the book into the desk drawer.
A moment later an elegantly-dressed woman walked
into my office. Her light brown hair, which was
pulled back into a bun, was highlighted by a few
streaks of gold. This wasn’t the kind of clientele
I was used to. She was classy, like a linen napkin
or a glass of single-malt scotch. She was smooth
and relaxed as she introduced herself.

“Olivia T. Kendrich.” she said, offering me a
gloved hand. I didn’t know whether I should shake
her hand or kiss it. I reached out and gave it
a polite squeeze. She smiled and squeezed back.
“You come highly recommended, Mr. Wayne.
An acquaintance of mine, Miss Stephanie O’Hara,
said that you were quite effective. Do you
remember her by any chance?”

Stephanie O’Hara was a cute little red-haired
debutante from the right side of the tracks who'd
hired me to tail her fiancee’. She suspected him
of two-timing her. I shadowed the guy for a month
and it was clear he wasn’t up to any hanky-panky.
When I went to her father’s house to tell her so,
she accused me of covering for him and demanded
her retainer fee back. When I told her no dice,
she started getting physical. She kicked my shin
a real good one, then started slapping my face.
I tried to stay cool, but she’d smacked me until
I didn’t have a cheek left to turn. So, I grabbed
her by the arm, threw my foot onto the nearest
chair and tossed her over my leg. She twisted like
a demon. Apparently, she’d figured out what was
coming next. It was all I could do just to hold
her in place. Then I started slapping her fanny
like it was going out of style. She had a thick
wool skirt on, but I didn’t let that stop me.
I just laid it on all the harder. The way she
kicked and screamed, you’d of thought I was
killing her. It’s too bad her rich daddy never
gave her that kind of attention, but I figured
it’s never too late to learn. When I was done
spanking the little brat, I pushed her onto the
floor and walked out. I remember looking back as
I was heading out the door. She was lying there,
in tears, rubbing her ass and demanding at the
top of her lungs that I come back, but I just
kept moving.

“She mentioned what a worthy adversary were.”

Ms. Kendrich continued.

“Oh, is that what she said?”

“Yes, she did. I’m to understand that you two
had a little run-in.”

“Well, there was a bit of a scuffle. Is she still
sore about that?”

“She was... for quite a while.”

“It wasn’t that big a deal. She ought to put it
behind her.”

“She hardly had a choice.” Olivia smirked.

“Yes.” I agreed. “But certainly you didn’t come
here to talk about Miss O’Hara.”

“No. What I want to talk to you about is this.”
She took a dark-pink envelope from her purse
and slid it across the desk. I picked it up
and opened it. Inside was a type-written note
which read:

“Go down a red road and find a three. Then add
a three. Now do it again. When you hear the bell,
turn to your left and you’ll see me just above
the earth. Take me in hand and turn me over.
You’ll know what to do next.”

“It came in the mail, yesterday.” Olivia told me.
“I have no idea what it means.”

I examined the envelope carefully. There was no
return address and no postmark.

“This was delivered by hand.” I stated.

“Some of the best things are.” she replied.
I turned the note over in my hand and tried to
think of what the words could possibly mean.

“It’s a riddle all right.” I muttered to myself.

Olivia took a checkbook and a pen from her purse.

“How much is your retainer?”

She seemed ready to write down any number
I chose. I reached across the desk and put
my hand over hers, closing the checkbook.

“I couldn’t take a dime from you Ms. Kendrich-
not for something like this.” I said, softly.
I left my hand on top of hers as long as I dared
then slowly pulled away. “Like I said, it’s some
kind of riddle, so it’s got to be some kind
of joke- probably not worth looking into.”
She nodded in agreement, but I could see a lot of
disappointment in those lovely, blue-green eyes.
You could have written Tootsie-pop right on
my forehead- I was such a sucker. “But I’ll tell
you what- I’ll work on this for a day or two and,
if I come up with anything, I’ll let you know.”

She smiled sweetly as she put her things back in
her purse and stood to leave.

“That sounds fine.” She handed me a card with her
phone number and address. “Come over for dinner
when you have it figured out. I want to hear all
about it. How does poached salmon, steamed turnips
and raspberry sorbet sound to you?” Once again she
offered her hand. This time I leaned down and
pressed my lips to the silk knuckles of her glove.

“I can almost taste it.” I said.

She blushed warmly as she walked to the door.

“Good luck, Mr. Wayne. Remember, I’m expecting a
blow-by-blow account.”

With that, she was gone. I walked over to the
window and watched as she got into her white
Mercedes and drove away. Her perfume drifted
faintly in the air like a ghost. An old song
began to play in my head.

“What was that all about?!” Betty’s voice cut
through the music like a chain-saw. I slapped
my hands together and pointed at her.

“Go make me a big pot of coffee, honeybuns!
I’ve got a mystery to solve and it may take
all night.”

“Good!” she said, picking my paperback up off the
desk as though it were a soiled diaper. “I guess
that means I can throw this piece of trash away?”

“When did you become a literary critic? Do you
even read books?”

“I’ll have you know that I’m just starting a book!
It’s all about Sleeping Beauty and how she-”

“I don’t have time to hear about your fairytale
stories! I’ve got to get to the bottom of this
Kendrich case.”

“Yeah, I bet that’s not all you’re trying to get
to the bottom of.”

“One of these days, Betty!” I waved a threatening
hand at her.

“Promises, promises!” she pouted, tossing her hair
as she left the room.

I spent the rest of the night kicking that riddle
around my office. The road and the numbers- those
were the keys. Then, at about midnight, it hit me.
The red road was a street and the numbers were an
address! When I took a three and added another and
did it again, I came up with 369. I checked a city
street map for something with red in it and found
Scarlet Lane. I dialed information and found that
369 Scarlet Lane was the address of Grayson’s Pawn
Shop. I caught a little shut-eye on my office
couch and headed over there the next morning.

Grayson’s was a run down little joint, but it
possessed a kind of dusty charm. As I’d expected,
a bell rang as I came through the front door.
I turned to my left. There were several shelves
of used junk lining the walls, but only one thing
caught my eye- a huge globe circa 1955 sitting
right at eye level and above that was a wooden
paddle hanging by a leather strap. It was about
a foot and a half long and maybe four inches
wide. I heard a woman’s voice behind me say.

“Checking out the old board of education, eh?”
she asked in a friendly manner. “Hi, my name’s
Lucy Grayson.”

She was a nice looking lady. I’d say medium in
most respects, average in height and weight.
Her auburn hair was shoulder length. Maybe she
was a bit plump and her voice was a little rough,
but she had a nice smile and that goes a long way
with me.

“Nice to meet you, Lucy. I’m Jack Wayne.”

“So, what’s your interest in the fanny-whacker?
Is the little woman getting out of line?”

We both laughed.

“It looks like a classic piece of workmanship.”

“Yeah, it’s a real tear jerker. I bet that one
kept a few ladies on their toes!” she replied
with a wink.

“Really? Do think that’s an adult toy?”

“Oh yeah!” Lucy said as she reached up and
brought the paddle down. “See these little hearts
carved into the corners? This was a romantic gift
between two grown-ups, not something a school
principal would use. My folks had something
like this. I found it under their bed once when
I was a kid. You never know what people get up to
behind closed doors.”

It was heavier than I’d expected- smoother too.
I ran my hand along it’s flat surface and let it
fall into my palm a few times. I flipped it over
to find some writing etched into the wood.

“It’s time to get personal with June. Maybe some
time in the corner is needed. Want some candy?
Just remember that the hand moves faster than
the eye. Now, get cracking!”

That afternoon found me back in my office,
mulling over those cryptic words. Was June a
woman’s name? What did time in the corner
refer to? The rest of it made even less sense.
Betty brought me some coffee and a couple
of doughnuts. She noticed the words from the
paddle which I had scrawled onto some paper
in front of me.

“What’s this?” she asked.

“Damned if I know!” I said and took a bite from
the old-fashioned with strawberry icing.

“Is this part of that Kendrich case?”

“Yeah, and I’ve got to admit, it’s beginning to
get the best of me!”

“Well, don’t get slap-happy over it, especially
if she’s not paying you!”

“Wait. How do you know I’m doing this for free?”

Betty started to get a little flustered.

“I- uh... Well, I mean-”

“Have you been listening at the door again?”
I said as I got up and walked toward her.
Betty was forever listening in on my private
conversations and I’d finally had enough of it.
She backed out of the room and tried to make for
the front door, but I cornered her.

“Now hold on, Jack. You’ve got it all wrong!”

I picked up a newspaper from her desk and started
to fold it lengthwise.

“Come here, Betty! Your bottom has a date with
the classified section!” Her hands instinctively
covered her backside as she attempted to
out-maneuver me. She faked towards the door
and then made a break for my office. I lunged
forward and grabbed hold of her wrist before she
could slam my own door on me. Then it was just a
matter of dragging her over to the couch and
pinning her over my lap. Betty made a lot
of noise, but didn’t put up much of a fight.
In fact, for a second there, I could swear
I caught her starting to giggle.

“She won’t be laughing for long!” I thought as I
lifted the newspaper. And that’s when I saw it
out of the corner of my eye. It was right there
on the paper. Just below “Help Wanted” and
“For Sale” was the word, “Personals”.

“This is it! The personal ads!”

“The what?” Betty gasped.

“The clue on the paddle said to ‘get personal’.
That’s where I’ll find the answer.” I sat Betty
up and got off the couch. She tried to regain her
composure, not to mention her breath as I grabbed
my jacket and headed out the door.

“Where are you going?!” she said, almost sounding
disappointed.

“To a dirty book shop, sweetcheeks. I’ll just have
to toast your buns some other time.” I was outside
and getting into my car when Betty stuck her head
out the office window.

“You’re a real jerk, you know that?!” she shouted.
Then she started addressing her comments to the
entire block. “Jack Wayne is a complete jerk and
he doesn’t know how to finish what he’s started!”

“What are you mad at me for?! I didn’t lay a hand
on you!” I shouted back. That just seemed to
tick her off even more.

“Oh! You make me furious!” she screamed and
slammed the window down.

“Women!” I thought to myself as I hopped into the
driver’s seat. “Will I ever figure them out?”

Pinky’s Adult Books was a neon covered building
in the red-light district. They had every girlie
mag and erotic novelty item anyone could ever want.
Never mind how I knew about it. I walked in
and went straight for the spanking literature.
A few seconds of browsing and there it was-
the June issue of "Corner Time Magazine",
a publication dedicated to the fun side of
corporal punishment. I flipped through the pages
and stopped at the personal ads. There were
several of them, so I decided to buy the issue
and study it back at the office. When I got there,
Betty was gone. There was a note on her desk.
As I picked it up, I could see that the ink had
been smudged by her tears.

“Dear Jack, I thought we had something special,
but I stand corrected. You’ve always had the upper
hand in our relationship, why couldn’t you take
advantage of it? The bottom line is, I’m leaving.
It’s not like me to turn tail and run away, but
what else can I do? Good-bye. Love, Betty Storm”

Strictly speaking, I don’t go in for office
romances, but I have to admit that Betty always
did have a special place in my heart. I stood
there for a while, staring out the window with
her letter in my hand. I thought about calling her
home number, but I’d never thought to ask for it.
She was right, I was a jerk. But there wasn’t much
I could do about it, so I decided to get back to
the business at hand.

I scanned through Corner Time magazine checking
ad after ad as the night wore on. There must have
been a thousand naughty ladies looking for some
firm-handed guy to adjust their attitude, but
nothing caught my attention. It wasn’t until I’d
reached the next to the last page that I finally
struck pay-dirt. It was an ad next to a picture
of a gorgeous blonde which read:

“I’ve been a bad, bad girl and need some serious
behavior modification from a man who’s hand moves
faster than his eye. So get cracking and call
Candy Maxwell!”

At the bottom of the ad was a phone number for
an answering service. I called it and left my
office number. Five minutes later my phone rang.

“Jack Wayne’s office.”

“Mr. Wayne?” a soft feminine voice asked.

“Yes it is.”

“Hi, I’m Candy. I’m so glad you called. I was on
the edge of my seat waiting!”

“Do we know each other, Ms. Maxwell?”

“No, but we have a mutual acquaintance.”

“And who would that be, Candy?”

“I’m not comfortable talking about it over
the phone. Why don’t you come over to my place
so we can meet in private?”

“Is this for real?”

“Why don’t you head on over here and find out
for yourself?"

Within a half-hour, I was pulling up to Candy
Maxwell’s house. It was a big Victorian place
with an iron gate up front. I walked up to it
and pushed the buzzer on the intercom.

“Hello?” Candy’s voice crooned through
the speaker.

“It’s me, Jack.”

“Great! Come around to the backside of the house.
I’m having a swim.” The large gate slowly swung
open and I walked across the driveway past a
pink BMW with red leather interior. It looked to
be brand spanking new. As I came around the side
of the house, I noticed a small wooden structure
in the backyard. It was an old woodshed from the
days when people needed such things to stay warm.
I could hear splashing as I rounded the corner
and when the pool came into view I was overcome
by a vision. There, swimming naked before me,
was the most beautiful woman I’ve ever almost
dropped dead from seeing. She stopped swimming
for a moment and waved to me.

“Care to cool off?” she asked.

Sliding naked down a glacier wouldn’t have
cooled me off right then.

“No thanks.” I said, trying to keep my eyes
in their sockets. She paddled around in the
water as though it was nothing to swim nude
in front of a stranger.

“I’ll be right out.” she said, heading for the
stairs at the shallow end. I needed a distraction
to keep from losing my cool. I fumbled around in
my pockets for some cigarettes or a lighter before
remembering that I don’t smoke. Then, like Venus
rising from the sea, Candy stepped out of the pool
and stood before me shaking the water from her
long, golden hair.

I was harder than Chinese arithmetic.

“You’re quite striking.” I commented.

“I hear the same about you.” She walked over
and took me by the lapels. “Isn’t it a little hot
for this?” Our lips almost met as she slid my
jacket over my shoulders, down my arms and
casually tossed it onto a nearby deck chair.
She placed her hands on my chest and gave me a
little shove. I fell back onto a chaise lounge.
Just as I sat up, she climbed over my lap and
arched her bottom at an angle that would tempt
even the most amateur spanker. I couldn’t help
but notice how pink her cheeks were, the shade
of bubble gum.

“You have an incredible back porch.” I said.

“It could use a man’s touch, though. Care to take
a whack at it? Or maybe several?

“Looks like someone’s already done that today.”

“Yes. I got a little cheeky with a friend of mine,
so he bent me over and showed me the error of
my ways. But that was hours ago.”

“Does it still sting?” I asked, giving one of her
cheeks a squeeze.

“Marvelously!” she moaned. I let my hand roam
across her perfect pink ass. Candy rolled her
shoulders in anticipation. I lifted my hand and
was poised to give this minx a spanking she’d
never forget. Unfortunately, the moment was
shattered by the sound of an angry voice.

“What the hell’s going on out here?!” it said.

I turned to see a large powerful-looking man in
a business suit approaching us.

“Who are you?!” he demanded.

“Jack Wayne. I’m a private detective.” I stood,
pulling Candy to her feet as I did.

“Well, I’m Melvyn Maxwell and the woman you had
bent over your knee is my wife!”

“Melvyn, you’re making a scene!” Candy said.

“Me?! The guy had his hands all over your ass!”
The man grabbed Candy by the arm and took her to
his side. “Where are your clothes?”

I handed her my jacket which she quickly wrapped
around her shoulders.

“Thank you. I’m glad to see there are still some
gentlemen left in this town!” She sneered at
Melvyn who paid no attention to the dig.

“Get in the house and put something on!”

As Candy went off to the house in a huff, Maxwell
and I stood there for a few awkward moments.

“I suppose you answered one of those ads.”
he asked in a semi-polite manner.

“Yes, but it wasn’t as simple as that. You see,
I’m working on a case-”

“I see. So it’s part of your job to spank
beautiful naked women?”

“If only that were the deal!” I chuckled.

“Look pal, I don’t blame you for wanting to spank
my wife. I do it two or three times a day myself!
But her ass isn’t public property, okay?!”

Candy came back out of the house with my jacket
over one arm. She was wearing a white blouse,
a plaid skirt, ankle socks and black patent
leather shoes. The ensemble was fetching, but
it sort of looked like a school girl’s uniform.

“Here, Jack.” she said, handing me my jacket.
“I’m sorry things didn’t work out. Mel can be
a real wet blanket!”

“That’s enough out of you, Miss!” Melvyn replied.
“Now, go march yourself into that woodshed and
wait for me!”

“But I don’t want another trip to the woodshed!
I want this guy to-” she cried.

“I’m going to count to three!” That’s all he
had to say. Before he could even start counting,
the beautiful young woman walked away with arms
angrily folded and her lower lip sticking out.

“I’m sorry about all this, Mr. Wayne. It looks
like you’ve been set up.”

“Looks like it.” I put my jacket back on and we
both walked toward the front of the house. I went
straight for the driveway and he veered off toward
the shed. “Don’t be too harsh with Candy.” I said.

"You kidding?" Maxwell laughed. "She’s in there
eating this up with a big spoon! Let me tell you,
if I didn’t keep her fanny as hot as a pepper
at least eight hours a day, she’d drop me like
a bad habit! Good luck, Mr. Wayne."

"Thanks."

On the way out I could here the fireworks show
starting up in that woodshed. Melvyn’s hand was
making solid contact and Candy was squealing and
begging for mercy. The smacking sounds followed
me all the way to the car.

By the time I was nearing my office, the sun
was touching the horizon and the distant hills
were bathed in a rosy glow. I reached for my
sunglasses but found something else in the breast
pocket of my jacket. It was a hotel room key with
the number 303 on it. Candy must have slipped it
in there when she was changing. It wasn’t from
some cheap, flea-bag inn, either. This key was
the property of the Baton Rouge- the ritziest
hotel in town. I drove to the Baton Rouge’s
parking lot and sat there in my car for a while,
wondering if I should go up or not. The whole
thing smacked of conspiracy. Finally, I resolved
to see this thing through to the end. I took an
elevator that was only slightly smaller than my
apartment to room 303. I slid the key in and
opened the door to find four women on the
other side: Olivia Kendrich, Stephanie O’Hara
Lucy Grayson and Candy Maxwell. They were all in
silk nighties in various shades of pink and all
looked as if they were expecting me. Olivia and
Lucy were playing cards at a glass-top table.
Stephanie and Candy were lounging on an enormous
red velvety couch. Candy was stroking Stephanie’s
strawberry locks with a large wooden hairbrush.

“Nice of you to drop in, Mr. Wayne.” Ms. Kendrich
said, rising and pouring a glass of pink champagne
from a bottle that was chilling nearby. Then she
handed me the glass. “I suppose you’re wondering
why we lured you here tonight.”

“Okay, I’ll bite. What’s this all about?”

“Remember that afternoon in my father’s study?”
Stephanie asked me. “I was being such a brat that
day! Do you remember how I yelled at you and
kicked you and all? A lot of guys would have
folded in a situation like that, but not you.
You put me in my place. And you did it
so swiftly, so...”

“Soundly?” I interrupted.

“Yes.” Stephanie agreed. She smiled and closed
her eyes for a moment as if she was remembering
her first taste of chocolate. “Well, ever since
that experience, I’ve been looking for some way
to relive the moment. But first, I had to find
somebody to confide in. I needed to share my
strange little story with someone.”

“Why didn’t you just give me a ring.” I asked.

“You don’t understand. As enthralled as I was by
the way you took me in hand, I was still furious.
I'm a proud woman, Mr. Wayne. Having a man spank
me like a child was very confusing. It was
frightening, embarrassing and yet it awakened me
in ways I’d never expected.”

“Yes.” Lucy joined in. “When a woman realizes
she really likes to be spanked, there are lots of
issues to deal with. She wants to be punished and
humiliated in her fantasy life without losing
anyone’s respect in the real world. It’s hard for
most people to understand that.”

“Not to mention trying to explain that there’s
a big difference between a playful spanking and
hard-core S & M.” Candy added.

“I did try to contact you. I came to your office
two months ago." Stephanie continued. I’d finally
worked up the courage to tell you about my
feelings, but your secretary told me you were on
a case out of town and wouldn’t be back for days.
I sort of broke down there in your waiting room.
I couldn’t stop crying, but your secretary,
Betty, was so nice. She brought me a box of
tissues and listened to my whole story. I told
her everything.”

“What? Betty knows about all of this?” I gasped.

“Oh, yes! It seemed she was very familiar with my
situation. She got right on the phone with Olivia
and started arranging this whole charade.”

“Betty and I have been plotting this for weeks."
Olivia said. "You see, we’ve both been spanking
aficionados since we went to college together.
We were in a sorority that took paddling its
pledges very seriously.” Olivia’s hands went
to her ass cheeks as if she could still feel the
sting. “Many is the night we smeared cold cream
on each other’s sore little bottoms after a brutal
session with the paddle. We looked around, but we
never found a man that could swing a paddle quite
like our senior sorority sister.”

My eyes went to Lucy, who’s smile seemed
quite conspicuous.

“And that sister would be you, Ms. Grayson?”

“Excellent! You see, you are a good detective.
Yes, I was Betty and Olivia’s senior sister and
I took every opportunity to lay wood on their
delicate young fannies. It seemed as though Olivia
here spent most of her freshman year bent over in
front of me, dancing to the crack of my paddle.
But it never gave me the satisfaction I'd felt
being on the other end of it when I was a freshman.
And it was nothing compared to the rapture of
being taken over a man’s knee for a good spanking.
After college, the girls and I stayed in touch.
We came to realize that we didn’t have a passing
fancy for spanking, it was a life-long devotion.
So we formed a little club. We call ourselves,
‘The Sore Subjects’. Candy joined us about a
month ago.”

“I met Stephanie at a bookstore.” Candy chimed in.
“She saw me checking out 'The Art of Discipline'
and we struck up a conversation. The next thing
you know, I was in the club. You can imagine
what the initiation was like! I couldn’t sit
comfortably for a week!”

The women all laughed.

I was still confused.

“So, you ladies meet here once a month and spank
each other?”

They all laughed again.

"Not exactly, Jack." Olivia explained. "You see,
we always get some authoritative male to be our
‘master of ceremonies’. Last month it was Melvyn.”

“Melvyn Maxwell? Your husband?” I asked Candy.

“Oh, he’s not really my husband. His real name is
Melvyn McLintock. He’s a friend of ours who was
helping us out.”

“It’s all part of our complicated little plot to
get you here.” Olivia added.

“I understand, but how did you come to choose me?”

“Well, why don’t you ask the other member of our
little group?” Olivia walked to the bedroom door
and opened it. When I looked into the next room
my jaw fell down to the lobby. It was my runaway
secretary, Betty, sitting on the edge of the bed
in a French maid’s outfit.

“Hi, Jack.” she said, standing up. “I hope you're
not angry.”

“I’m just glad to see you.” I told her.
“I’ve been worried about you, honey. I didn’t
know what to do!”

Betty stared at the floor, biting her lower lip.

“I know, but it was the only way I could think of
to introduce you to our little group. Still, it
was thoughtless and mean of me to let you worry
like that! You know what I think?” she said,
looking right into my eyes. “I think I need to be
taught some manners.”

“And I think these two need some time alone.”
Olivia said with a knowing grin. “But don’t wear
yourself out.” she added as she left the room
with the other ladies filing out behind her.
“Remember, you’ve got four naughty accomplices
in the next room waiting for their just deserts.”

Stephanie, the last to exit, gave Betty and me
a wink as she closed the door.

“Alone at last.” Betty said, embracing me.

“What’s the deal with the little maid get-up?”

“It’s just one of my fantasy costumes. You don’t
like it?”

“No, I like it all right! I just think it would
look better draped over a chair.” I said, kissing
her neck.

“And how do you think I’d look draped over
a chair?” she whispered huskily into my ear.

“I feel like a dope.” I told her. “For years I’ve
been trying to figure out your mysterious motives
and all you wanted me to do was smack that cute
little backside of yours! Some detective I am!”

“You’re a great detective. It's just, sometimes
you can’t see the forest for the trees.”

She put her hands on my face, kissing me softly.

I wrapped my arms around Betty's slim frame.

“You’re going over my knee, young lady!”

“It’s about time!” she said as I sat down on the
edge of the bed. A quick yank on her left arm and
she was over my lap. I lifted the back of that
little black skirt to reveal the sweetest sight
these eyes have ever seen. It was no shock she
wasn’t wearing panties, but I wasn’t prepared for
the absolute perfection of Betty’s bottom.
I’d seen it swishing around the office a thousand
times under a cotton skirt or nicely packed into
a pair of slacks, but I never could have imagined
how lovely those two alabaster moons really were.
My hand shook as a ran it across the smooth
rounded surface of her ass. I lifted my hand
and brought it down hard across Betty’s sweet
white cheeks. She jumped and gasped a little.
The next few swats were much more powerful and
got an even better response. Betty ground herself
against my leg and then lifted her bottom in
anticipation of more. I started swatting harder
and faster until my hand was a blur. I slapped
those round little cheeks until they turned
carnation pink and when that shade didn’t suit me,
I smacked them until they were rose red.
She kicked and cried like a kid who had lost
her bike, but I just kept on spanking.
Then, when Betty’s ass was so red it looked as if
it might glow in the dark, I stopped swatting and
just ran my hand across her hot, crimson flesh.
She arched her back and moaned with pleasure as I
massaged her swollen buns.

“Don’t ever leave me again, Betty.” I sighed.

“Or else, what?” she said, looking over her
shoulder with a big grin on her tear-stained face.

Once again I lifted my hand into the air. I knew
I wouldn’t have to answer that smart-ass question
with words.

THE END

2005-08-17T01:18:00.000-07:00

SLIPPERY WHEN WET
by Alex B.

When I was 17 and a senior in high school, my
parents left town for a weekend during October,
leaving me alone to watch over the house.
Rather than throw a party, I invited a girl I
knew from school to come over on Saturday evening
and watch a movie with me. Lauren, who had just
turned 18, was a member of the school swim team.
She had a tight athletic body, short brown hair,
hazel eyes and possibly the cutest bottom I have
ever seen.

We never did get around to watching the movie.
Instead, we made margaritas in the blender and
stood in the kitchen sipping them as we talked.
At one point, Lauren turned to refill her glass
and I jumped at the opportunity to land a
a fairly powerful swat across the seat of her
incredibly tight blue jeans.

"Oh, so that's what you're into!" she said with
mock surprise.

It was impossible that Lauren had never noticed
me admiring her gorgeous backside. It was round
and firm and made the perfect target for a
well-placed slap.

She retaliated by giving my ass a good smack and
we were soon chasing each other around the kitchen
trading harder and harder swats to each other's
rears. Eventually, Lauren tucked her bottom into
a corner where I couldn't get at it, so I resorted
to kissing her instead. We had shared a few
playful pecks now and then, but nothing like this.
Our tongues swirled around one another and we
pressed our bodies together tightly. I started to
reach down to remove her sweater, but was politely
pushed back a step.

"Pour me another drink." Lauren said, pointing in
the direction of the blender. "But not that stuff.
It's way too strong." Then she handed me her glass
and headed into the living room.

She was right, I'd never made margaritas before
and had used twice the tequila I should have.
As I mixed a milder batch of drinks, I heard the
living room door slide open. A minute later,
I walked out to find that Lauren had gone out
by the pool and was perched at the edge of the
diving board.

"What would happen if I jumped in right now with
all my clothes on?" she asked.

"You'd be in big trouble." I said as sternly as
I could.

That was all the incentive she needed. Taking one
bounce off the end of the board, she executed a
perfect dive into the pool. She was laughing
wildly when she popped her head out of the water.
I simply stood there, staring down at her with my
arms crossed. Then she began floundering around
and pretending she couldn't swim.

"Help! Come save me, Alex! I'm drowning!"

"If I have to come in there," I told her as I
kicked off my loafers. "your ass is mine."

"Ooh! Come and get it!"

I put my wallet and watch in one of my shoes and
jumped in after her. There was a bit of a chase
and a lot of splashing, but soon we were wrapped
around each other in the shallow end. We kissed
as we removed each other's clothing and let each
article slowly drift to the bottom of the pool.
When were finally naked, Lauren reached down and,
taking hold of my hardened cock, gently guided me
into her. A virtual novice to lovemaking and
certainly no expert at underwater acrobatics,
I let her make all the important moves.
She smiled to notice I was shivering and clearly
understood that it had little to do with the
temperature of the water. She wrapped her legs
around me and placed my hands on her hips.

"Now just squeeze your ass cheeks together."
she whispered.

I followed her advice and soon found myself
thrusting deep inside her with ease. It felt
fantastic, and I can't honestly say which of us
was enjoying it more, because Lauren was moaning
and digging her fingernails into my shoulders.

Suddenly I realized that something was missing,
something important. It was then that I decided
to take charge. I carefully pulled out and took
Lauren by the wrist leading her up the stairs
and out of the water. (She later told me that she
assumed I was taking her over to the chaise lounge
to finish what I had started in the pool.)
Imagine her surprise when, instead, I placed
my foot on the seat of a patio chair, hauled her
over my leg and began soundly spanking her bare,
wet fanny. I remember hearing her gasp loudly after
the first few slaps. As I continued spanking her,
the gasps became squeals and bursts of laughter
until she seemed to be laughing and crying
simultaneously. I'll never forget how beautiful
her cheeks looked as they shimmered in the late
afternoon sun- how the silver droplets of water
flew off her bottom, or the lovely squishy smacking
sound as each spank landed across her shiny,
jiggling buns. After four dozens good hard swats,
I put Lauren back on her feet and ordered her
to dive into the pool and retrieve our clothing.
She began to protest, but one lightning-fast swat
to her already stinging bottom had her leaping to
obey my command. In an instant, she was underwater
gathering our pants, shirts, underwear and socks.
I stood by giving her extra incentive smacks as she
attempted to ring the pool water from our things.

I then lead her, by the ear, to the den where we
put it all in the clothes dryer. And over that
working dryer Lauren draped herself. With her arms
wrapped around its edges, her throbbing pink bottom
lifted upward, she offered herself to me. And I
took her. Carefully, gently, I nudged the tip of
my cock against her lips and with one smooth thrust
I was in.

With our clothing tumbling around inside,
I pounded her from behind with increasing speed
as she pressed herself against that big warm,
vibrating machine. When we were done, I hauled
Lauren's exhausted body over my shoulder and
carried her to my room where we collapsed onto
the bed and rested for a while.

Lauren had to be home by eleven, so once our
clothes were dry, we put them on and spent the
next hour spooning on the couch. She stretched
herself across my lap and I delivered a few playful
swats with a lot of deep rubbing. It was far more
a massage than a spanking. Afterward, she sat up
in my lap, kissed me sweetly, then went home.

Lauren and I never became a serious item.
We drifted in other directions, dated other people.

On our graduation day, I found Lauren alone
behind the football bleachers having a smoke.
I sneaked up from behind and gave her ass such a
swat that it knocked the cigarette from her mouth.
Thoroughly pissed off, she spun around to slug
her attacker. But when she saw it was me, I was
greeted with a wry grin and a bear hug. As I
squeezed her ass through her robe, she reached
under mine to give my cock a friendly tug.
We could hear others approaching, so we quickly
shared one last kiss before saying goodbye.

Twenty years- and I can still taste her lips
on the edge of each cigarette and at the bottom
of every margarita.

THE END

2005-08-15T01:11:00.000-07:00

THE ORANGE MEMO
by Alex B.

Stacey Bates was a secretary with a secret. The secret involved her desk which was originally placed next to a window on the sixteenth floor of the Brooks Building. One day, she had it moved to the other side of the room. She told her co-workers that she did this because the view made her dizzy. But that wasn't the reason. She preferred her desk there because all she had to do was lean over and put an ear to the wall in order to hear everything that was happening in the office occupied by her boss, Spencer Hayden. She listened in while company meetings were taking place, during private conferences and whenever he was on the phone. She wasn’t trying to find out anything she didn’t already know, she just liked the sound of Mr. Hayden’s firm, authoritative voice.

The lovely Miss Bates had what might be called a schoolgirl crush on the handsome Mr. Hayden. She often daydreamed about how his lips might taste, what he looked like in his pajamas and where they would spend their honeymoon.

Mr. Hayden, however, showed very few signs of interest in Miss Bates.

Of course, there was that one time...

A month earlier, Stacie had attended a Christmas party at the home of the company's owner. Spencer had been tapped to play Santa Claus at the event. Midway through the evening, he entered to much applause through the front door. Dressed in a heavily padded red suit and sporting a polyester beard, Spencer hauled his sack of gifts into the den where a large easy chair had been placed next to the tree especially for him. Stacey stood near the fireplace, sipping rum-laced eggnogs as she watched her fellow employees line up to tell Santa what they wanted for Christmas. Forty minutes and three drinks later, there was no one left in line. Stacey realized that, if she was going to do something, she’d have to do it right then. So she tossed back one last gulp of nog and headed directly for the jolly old elf. Without ceremony, she plopped herself onto Santa’s lap, wrapped her arms around his shoulders and planted a sloppy wet kiss on his cheek.

"Ho ho ho!" Spencer laughed, a bit overcome by Stacey’s eagerness. "Merry Christmas! Now tell Santa, have you been a good little girl?"

The young lady pouted a little and leaned over to whisper into Spencer’s ear.

"No, Santa. I haven’t been a good girl at all. In fact, I’ve been very bad." As she spoke, she toyed with a button on Santa’s jacket while her other hand slipped behind his neck and flicked at the string that held his beard on. "You see, I’ve been having these naughty thoughts about my boss. All day I think about him calling me into his office and ordering me to bend over across his desk. When I hesitate, he slaps my bottom... really hard! So I bend over. He lifts my dress up and pulls my panties down. Then he slaps my fanny again, this time even harder. It’s stings likes crazy and it’s so humiliating, but for some reason I don’t want him to stop. He smacks my ass cheeks again and again, harder and harder until I think I can’t take any more. Then he steps back and starts to undo his belt."

Spencer cleared his throat and tried to pretend that Stacey’s whisperings weren’t quite so intriguing.

"I see... so you want a DVD player. Well, that’s sounds nice..."

"I know I’ve been a very, very bad, Santa." Stacey quietly continued. "I’ll bet I only get a lump of coal in my stocking this Christmas. In fact, I wouldn’t be surprised if you turned me across your lap and gave me a good spanking in front of all these people."

Spencer was stunned. Not knowing what to say, he simply continued staring into Stacey’s eyes.
Before he could reply, someone in the next room announced that it was time to play charades.
As the guests began filing out of the den, Stacey hopped off Spencer’s lap and gave his other cheek a kiss.

"Too bad." she said. "It would have been fun."

Spencer’s eyes were glued to Stacey’s bottom swaying beneath her skirt as she walked away. Stacey stopped and turned around.

"Are you coming, Santa?"

"Just about to." Spencer called out as he attempted to adjust his fuzzy red trousers. "I think first old Saint Nick needs to splash a little cold water on his face. Go on without me."

Stacey went into the next room and watched the others play party games. All the while, she waited patiently for her boss near a doorway that was decorated with a sprig of mistletoe. But he never showed up. When the party ended, Stacey could only assume that she'd embarrassed Spencer and that he had simply bolted.

In the weeks that followed, it seemed to Stacey that Mr. Hayden was going out of his way to avoid her. He barely acknowledged her presence as he entered and exited her office and almost never called her into his. It had become difficult for her to speak with him as well. Stacey began to suspect that her stunt at the Christmas party had created a permanent state of awkwardness between them.

One day, the last day of January, Stacey found herself once again with her ear to the wall outside Spencer’s office. He'd been tapping away on his keyboard for nearly half an hour. This was unusual because Spencer normally preferred to dictate letters and rarely used his own computer. As she listened in, she noticed several long pauses before he began typing again. Eventually the typing stopped all together. Spencer suddenly bolted out of his office.

"I'm going out to lunch." he said.

"Oh. Okay." Stacey replied as she watched him disappear around the corner. She was mystified by his behavior. He hadn’t even looked at her as he passed. Stranger still, he seemed quite flustered. "Was he blushing?" she thought.

Stacey glanced over at the door to Mr. Hayden’s office, then stood and walked over to it. She turned the knob, opened the door and poked her head inside. There was nothing unusual to be seen in there- just an empty office. As she began to close the door, Stacey noticed what appeared to be a memo crumpled up in the wastebasket. Spurred on by curiosity, she walked in, bent down and plucked the piece of paper from the trash. She unfolded and pressed it flat against the top of the desk as she read from it.

To Stacey Bates: 11:45 a.m.

I've been imagining the two of us in my large leather office chair. You’re sitting in my lap with an orange in your hands. I take it and carefully pull the peel away. We rock back and forth kissing and feeding sections of fruit to each other. As I lick a few errant drops of juice from between your breasts, I decide that the hardening pink buds beneath your brassiere could do with a good tongue lashing. You agree and in a moment your blouse and bra are mere memories. I dip you forward, your silken tresses nearly brushing the floor as I flick your swollen nipples with the slick tip of my attentive tongue, roughly sucking and gently biting them between licks and kisses. Then, without warning, I lift you up and bend you over my left leg. I announce that I’m well aware of your eavesdropping, that I know you spend much of your workday with your hot little ear pressed to the wall, listening in on my private business. My hand is underneath your skirt yanking your panties down before you can catch your breath. A cool gust of air across your bottom as your skirt flies up is followed by a sharp hot slap. I spank you soundly until you begin sobbing, until your legs involuntarily kick with each swat, until your pale round cheeks are pink and throbbing. Afterward, I hold you in place, patting and massaging your tender, stinging ass. Eventually, you stand up only to turn and drape yourself across my desk. Looking over your shoulder at me, you brush a tear from your face and smile hungrily. You rise up on the balls of your feet. I watch mesmerized as your hips begin to sway this way and that. Charmed by this invitation, I stand and start to unbuckle my belt.

That's where the memo ended.

When Spencer returned from his lunch break, he was surprised to see that Stacey was not at her desk. He entered his office and found the note he'd thrown away earlier, flattened out and placed in the middle of his desktop. On the bottom of it, beneath his words, was a note in what he immediately recognized as Stacey's handwriting.

To Spencer Hayden: 1:05 p.m.

I'm not sure where this memo was going, but I can't wait to find out! I'll be back in a few minutes. I've gone down to the market to buy an orange.

THE END

2005-08-14T15:02:00.000-07:00

TOASTED MARSHMALLOWS
by Alex B.

You and I finally get away for that weekend camping trip. We drive up into the mountains and find an inviting little spot in a clearing near a creek. I suggest that we unload the car and pitch our tent right away, but you’d rather go for a nature walk. I explain that we need to set up camp while there’s still enough sunlight. As you begin to protest I casually ask how long it’s been since you've had your pants pulled down for an attitude adjustment. Suddenly the whining stops and within ten minutes we’ve got all our gear unloaded. At first, you’re quite helpful in putting up the tent, but you soon become bored and frustrated.

“I’m tired of this!” you announce, tossing a tent pole to the ground as you storm off into the woods.

You return from your hike half an hour later to find that I’ve managed to finish erecting the tent on my own. You take in the pleasant aroma of something I’m busy cooking in a pot over the fire.

“Looks like you’ve got dinner going.”

“Uh huh. Beef stew.” I say, turning around with a large, flat wooden spoon in my hand. I wipe the spoon clean with a cloth and start walking in your direction. “But if you want any, I imagine you’ll have to eat it standing up.” Taking your wrist firmly in my hand, I escort you to the picnic table where I sit, haul you across my lap and without ceremony begin bringing the spoon down hard across the seat of your jeans. Dust flies from the denim. I lift the broad stirring instrument and give your bottom another good whack as I scold you. “Typical!” I laugh, smacking your ass again. “I pitch the tent while you pitch a fit!” I continue paddling you with the spoon until you’re kicking, crying and promising to do your share.

Eventually, I stand you up and march you into the tent. You start to say something on the way, but a swift swat with the spoon to your stinging fanny renders you speechless.

“I should make you set the table.” I comment, placing you in a corner. “But I’ll take care of that while you stand here and think about your behavior.”

You stay in place with your arms crossed, pouting angrily. After a while, you lower your jeans and start to caress your throbbing cheeks. Just as you begin thinking your punishment time must nearly be over and your mouth starts to water for some of that stew, you hear a vehicle pull up near our campsite.

“Hi there!” a man’s voice calls out.

As I engage the man in conversation, you soon realize that it’s a park ranger checking to see that we’re all right. You can’t make out exactly what we’re saying, but you hear the other man begin to laugh boisterously. You hike your pants up and stick your head out the front of the tent to see the ranger stepping back into his truck.

“Well, I hope you two have a good time." he says. “Oh, and be sure to douse that fire before you bed down.” You walk out just as he starts the engine. The ranger smiles and waves upon seeing you. “You behave yourself now!” he shouts in your direction as he drives away.

“Hungry?” I ask.

You glance over at the picnic table which has been prepared for supper and notice a pillow placed on one of the benches. This, of course, is where you will sit.

The sun slowly slips below the hills as we eat. It’s only stew from a can and some biscuits, but something about this meal, the fact that it was cooked out in the woods perhaps, makes it so delectable, so satisfying.

“What exactly did you tell that park ranger?”

“The truth.” I answer with a shrug. “I told him you were being a bad little camper, so I had to spank your bottom and send you to bed without any supper.”

“Right!” you say, not believing me at first. But then your face begins to blush over as the ranger’s words suddenly make perfect sense.

“You know, it’s funny... I don’t seem to remember saying you could come out of that tent. Seems to me you haven’t learned very much.”

Your shoulders fall at the prospect of another tanning session.

“I suppose you’re right.” you sigh and begin to get up.

“Not yet.” I say, refilling your cup with soda. “After you've had your dinner and cleared the table.”

Naturally, you take your time eating your meal and tidying up after as I stand nearby rolling up my right sleeve. Clearly hoping to avoid the planned dessert, you saunter up to me, placing your arms around my neck and a smoldering kiss on my lips as you reach down to unbuckle my belt.

“You don't really need to spank me again, do you?” you whisper into my ear as your hand snakes into my briefs. “I mean, we’re all alone in the wilderness. Can’t you think of some other ways to while away the hours?” You lift my right hand to your mouth and hungrily slide my middle finger between your lips while you squeeze my manhood tightly in your other hand.

“Definitely!” I reply, pulling my finger from your mouth. “And we’ll do them all... right after your spanking!”

You release my swollen member from your grip, frown and at kick the dirt.

“Bare bottom?” you inquire, knowing full well the answer.

A moment later you find yourself staring at the ground as I spank your bare ass with gusto. A few of your tears mingle with the dirt and pine needles, but you don’t bitch or whine. You’re just grateful that I’m using my hand instead of that dreadful spoon. I still manage to get my message across quite effectively without an implement.

After spanking you soundly for several minutes I can see, even in the dim light of dusk, that your bottom is getting quite red. I haul back and give your roasted rump one last exceptionally hard smack- one so loud that it sends a dozen birds scattering from a tree in the distance. You howl and hiss, but utter not one word of complaint.

“Our friendly ranger gave me a good piece of advice.” I mention as I hold you in place across my lap and reach into a plastic cooler near the table. “He said I should douse the fire.” I grab a cold, wet can of soda out from the ice cubes and begin gently rolling it across your scorched buns. You flinch at first, then you begin to moan quietly and then not so quietly as I roll the chilled container of pop up and down your hot swollen cheeks, occasionally bending down to place a soft kiss here and there. After a minute or two of this treatment, I pat your bottom and tell you to stand.

Grunting passionately, you push yourself from my lap. I rise with you, kissing your neck, your face, your ears. You lift your arms, signaling me to remove your shirt, which I do. You step from your pants and panties and remove your socks leaving you gloriously naked in the light of the fire.

“Want to roast some marshmallows?” I ask.

You wipe a tear from your eye and laugh as you attack my lips with yours. Your tongue swirls around mine making it clear that marshmallows are not at the top of your to do list. The moon rises over the trees and high into the night sky as we pleasure each other. I spread out a sleeping bag and lay down upon it. You mount and ride me like an animal for the longest time. Then I place you on your hands and knees and take you from behind, smartly slapping your ass now and then as I thrust into you.

As the last trail of smoke from our fire drifts away, we zip our sleeping bags together and climb inside. I kiss your cheek and offer to cook up some bacon and eggs in the morning while you fetch some water from the creek. When you begin to complain about your work assignment, I don’t bother to argue. I simply ask if you’d prefer to be spanked with that wooden spoon before or after breakfast. Suddenly, all is quiet. Only a few crickets and a solitary owl hooting in the distance can be heard. Wrapped in each other’s arms, we gaze into the heavens until the stars lull us to sleep.

We never do get to the marshmallows.

THE END

2005-08-14T14:21:00.000-07:00

BORROWER’S REGRET
by Alex B.

Kim Baldrige glanced up at the clock. It was ten after five and everyone else in the office had left. She’d be halfway home herself if her boss, Henry Sharpe, hadn’t told her that he needed to talk to her after work. Kim was annoyed at having to wait. It was Friday and she wanted to get her weekend started as soon as possible. She’d met a cute guy at the supermarket a few days before and they’d made a date to see a movie that night. It wasn’t the sort of thing she did all the time, but he was awfully sweet and he did say she looked like Jennifer Aniston, which she did... a little.

Mr. Sharpe, stuck his head out from behind his office door.

“Come in here, Kim.” he said curtly and ducked back inside.

Kim walked into the office and sat down in a chair facing Mr. Sharpe’s desk. It was dark in there with only the dying rays if the sun illuminating the room. Henry Sharpe, sat at his desk, fidgeting with the lock on the company’s cash box. He was fairly distinguished looking for a man of forty. He had a few gray hairs and some lines that appeared on his forehead whenever he laughed or frowned.

He was frowning at the moment.

“Something serious has come to my attention, Kim and it may involve you.” Henry stated. “Money has been missing from the petty cash box a lot lately. It’s been going on for months- sometimes it's five dollars, sometimes twenty. Whoever it is always puts the money back a day or two later, so we’re not really talking about at a thief here, just a compulsive borrower. I decided to mark some of the bills and see who ends up with them. The other night I drew a star on the corner of some ten dollar bills and put them in the cash box. This afternoon, one of the tens was missing. Can I see your wallet please?”

Kim turned and looked through the door at the leather purse on her desk. She had to think quickly.

“Well, I do have a bill like that in my wallet, but I got it from Janet in accounting. She gave it to me in change for a twenty at lunch today.”

“I see. So you did see that star on the upper left-hand corner?”

“Yes, but I didn’t think much of it. I just thought someone had drawn a star on it, that’s all. I think you need to talk to Janet about this.”

Henry folded his arms and sighed.

“No, Kim. The thing is- there was no ten dollar bill with a star on it. I never marked any of the money at all.”

Kim was confused for a moment and then realized how completely trapped she was. She looked down at the floor.

“I’m sorry, Mr. Sharpe. I was going to put it back when-”

“I don’t doubt that you were going to return the money, Kim. That’s not point. The point is, how can I trust you as an employee now? If you needed some cash you could have asked, but instead you just took it. And when you’re confronted with your actions, you lie about it and even try to pin the blame on someone else. This is all just completely unacceptable!”

“I know. I know.”

“I can’t just let this slide by.” Henry said.

“Oh boy!” Kim thought. “Here it comes! He has me and now he’s going to want something... and I bet I know what!” Kim imagined herself on her knees in front of her boss, his hands running through her thick brown locks as she pleasured him with her mouth. Would she have to beg to suck him off? Would she have to swallow? She gulped at the prospect. Her saliva already seemed thick and salty. Then an alternative scenario flashed through Kim’s mind. She was bent over the desk with Mr. Sharpe taking her from behind. And how often would this be happening? Just once... or every day?! Her eyes began to glaze over.

“Are you listening?” Henry’s voice broke in. “Now, as you know, I have a teenage daughter at home and if I caught Sarah doing what you did- if I caught her stealing from my wallet, I’d have three ways of punishing her to choose from. I could put her on restriction, I could cut off her allowance or I could put her over my knee and give her a good spanking. Now, I can’t put you on restriction and I know that you can’t afford to have your pay suspended. So, what does that leave us?

“I guess you’ll have to spank me.” Kim said with a jittery laugh.

The silence that followed Kim’s reply filled the room with tension. Henry stared at Kim in a way that told her that this wasn’t a laughing matter. Kim’s face went pale.

“That’s exactly what I have in mind. I intend to take you across my knee, bare your bottom and give you the spanking of a lifetime. I'm going to scorch your backside so thoroughly that any future thoughts about borrowing company funds without permission will make your eyes water and your buns throb. Understand?”

Kim’s mouth was a desert. Unable to speak, she simply nodded dumbly and tried to clear her throat.

Henry continued.

“If you’d rather quit than take this punishment, I’ll understand. I’ll give you your pay in cash and you can just get your things and leave. But you know that I won’t be able to give you any kind of reference. The two years you’ve put in here will just be wasted time.”

“Does it have to be on my bare...”

“Yes, it does. I’m not going to lie, Kim. I want this to be humiliating for you.

“I know, Mr. Sharpe and I know I deserve it, but I don’t feel right about exposing myself to you in that way.”

Henry nodded understandingly.

“I’ll tell you what- we can wait until Monday morning and I’ll spank you over your dress, but I’ll use a hairbrush instead of my hand and it’s going to be during office hours so that everyone can hear it.”

Kim’s eyes widened at the thought of her coworkers listening to her humiliating ordeal. She could see them smirking at each other and snickering quietly as the sound of her cries and the brush smacking her ass echoed throughout the office. Then there'd be the unbearable chore of exiting Mr. Sharpe’s office with a tear-stained face and a burning bottom. No one would say anything, but they’d all know that just under that skirt was a warm, freshly spanked fanny. And they’d all wince a little as she sat down at her desk, knowing how painful the act of sitting down must be for her. It was almost too embarrassing to imagine.

“No.” she said, standing up. “I’ll take it on the bare bottom right now.”

“Fine. Let’s do it.” Henry rolled up his right sleeve as he scooted his chair away from the desk. He motioned for Kim to approach him. She walked around the desk and stood at Henry’s side. “Take your panties down and bend over!” he ordered.

Kim’s knees went a weak as he barked out the command and for a moment she froze. But then she willed herself to reach up under her dress, hook her thumbs beneath the elastic band of her panties and lower them to her ankles. She lifted the hem of her knee-length dress and carefully placed herself across Mr. Sharpe’s lap.

Henry placed his left hand on Kim’s lower back and repositioned her slightly to place her ass more accessible to his right. He made Kim wait with her bare bottom in the air for several agonizing moments, allowing her to contemplate her precarious situation.

Kim’s face became flush as suddenly, a terrible thought crossed her mind.

“The cleaning lady!” she said, looking over her shoulder.

“Gone home already.” Henry replied.

He then took careful aim and brought his hand down hard across the lower section of Kim’s left cheek. She gasped at the severity of the blow and was equally surprised by the swat that quickly followed, bringing a sudden dose of heat to her right cheek. The third swat, one that landed across the lower part of both cheeks was so hard that tears welled up in her eyes as a result and the next two swats were so severe as to shake those tears loose. By the time forty slaps had come down, Kim was quietly weeping. The spanking was so painful that it was all she could do not to squirm and cry out with each swat. Instead, she gripped the legs of the chair and gritted her teeth, determined not to make a childish spectacle of herself. Soon however, as the rain of spanks came down harder and faster, she found herself kicking and howling for mercy.

Henry experienced a pang of guilt as again and again he lifted his hand and brought it down with a loud smack onto Kim’s trembling cheeks. After all, the woman across his knee suffering the humiliation of having her bare bottom soundly spanked was an employee he’d grown to know and respect as a friend over the last two years.

“How can I be doing this?” he thought for an instant.

But, just as swiftly, he remembered the breach of trust Kim had committed by taking that money without permission and suddenly he had no problem delivering another volley of stinging slaps to her deservedly rosy cheeks.

He continued smacking Kim with loud stinging swats until her cheeks were no longer pink and splotchy, but were two mounds of solid red flesh. By then, Kim’s ass felt like it was made of molten glass and she was crying and kicking up a storm. Henry stopped for a moment, examining his work, then lifted his hand into the air and delivered one last resounding swat. What little dignity Kim had left was knocked out of her with that final slap. She fell limp across Henry’s lap and began to bawl like a heartsick schoolgirl. All the while, Henry gently massaged her warm, crimson cheeks.

Eventually, Kim pushed herself from his lap and stood up. The young woman tried to maintain some degree of composure, but was unable to stop herself from sobbing as she reached back, attempting to rub some of the sting from her aching buttocks. Henry got up from his chair and placed his hands lightly on her shoulders.

“I hope you understand why I had to do this.”

Kim wrapped her arms around Henry, hugging him tightly as she sobbed into chest.

“I do.” she cried.

Henry pushed her back a bit and put a finger under her trembling chin.

“I also hope you understand that if you ever do anything like this again, I’ll take off my belt and really blister your bottom.”

“I know.” she said. “Thank you.”

Kim felt strangely relieved and free. Only one question bothered her. How was she going to explain to her date why she had to stand all the way through the movie?

THE END

2005-08-09T08:11:00.000-07:00

SPITFIRE
by Alex B.

Shannon Blake couldn’t help it. She simply had to talk herself into trouble. This had been a problem for her growing up at home, at school and later on, wherever she worked. She seemed to crave confrontation and constantly found herself arguing with others over the smallest of issues.

Of course, this was before she met Erik Powell.

The two had been dating less than a month when Shannon managed to instigate a loud argument in the middle of a film they were watching. Aggravated by Shannon’s behavior and embarrassed at being part of a public spectacle, Erik took his date by the arm, lead her out of the movie theater and into the parking lot where he proceeded to tell her what an intolerable pain in the ass she was being. Then, as if to illustrate his point, he put his foot onto the rear fender of his car, pulled Shannon across his uplifted leg and slapped her bottom. She began to yell something at him but before she could catch her breath he smacked her ass again and was soon spanking her quite soundly. Shannon’s flimsy skirt and silk panties offered little protection against the onslaught of Erik’s powerful hand as it came down again and again, each time delivering a stinging handful of heat to the young woman’s aching backside. Erik gave Shannon's bottom one last wallop before letting her down. Once her feet were back on the ground, Shannon could to do little but try to regain her composure as Erik unlocked his door got into the driver’s seat. He started the engine and waited for her to get in, which she eventually did.

It was uncomfortably quiet inside Erik’s car as he drove Shannon home.

“I understand if you don’t want to see me again.” he said after seven minutes on the road.

Shannon didn’t respond. She just stared out the window watching trees and houses pass in and out of view. She was stunned, not by the spanking she’d just received but by the fact that she wasn’t the least bit angry or upset about it. She felt oddly at peace. It was strange because, even if she was in the right, she never felt pleased or vindicated after a dispute, only frustrated and empty. This felt entirely different.It was like tasting some exotic flavor for the first time... and she wanted more.

By the time they arrived at Shannon’s apartment building, Erik had taken his date’s silence to mean that their courtship was at an end. So he was more than a little surprised when she invited him in.

“I’m sorry we missed the end of the movie,” Shannon said from the kitchen as Erik made himself comfortable on the couch. She entered the living room with a drink in each hand. “I don’t know what came over me.” She handed Erik a glass as she sat down next to him. They sipped their drinks and smiled politely at each other. After a painfully long minute, Shannon spoke up again. “So, do you spank all the women you date?”

“Well,” Erik began with a laugh. “I’m not sure a gentleman should answer a question like that. Do you call every man you date a jerk?”

“I didn’t call you a jerk,” Shannon countered. “I said you were acting like one.”

Erik began to answer but then though better of it.

“I really don’t want to argue anymore tonight.” he said calmly, then took a sip from his glass.

“Of course not! You know I’m right!”

“Look,” Erik said, putting his glass on the coffee table. “Are you spoiling for another trip across my knee?!”

Shannon paused, then gulped down the remainder of her drink before placing the glass on the table next to his.“Not ‘spoiling’ exactly.” she said. “I think maybe ‘intrigued’ would be a better word.” As she spoke, she leaned forward to meet Erik’s waiting lips.

They kissed, softly at first, then deeply with passion. Erik was a bit disappointed when Shannon suddenly broke from the kiss and pushed herself from him. But he understood her motives when she kicked off her pumps and slowly crawled across his lap, offering to him her firm, round bottom. Without a word, Erik placed his left hand on the small of Shannon’s back while his right began to roam slowly across her ass cheeks. She sighed heavily as he gave her left buttock a gentle squeeze and grunted slightly when he gave her right one a mild smack. Shannon pressed herself against Erik’s leg as he continued to give her sore ass a deep, soothing massage interrupted by an occasional slap to one cheek or the other. Then he stopped and with deliberate slowness lifted the hem of her skirt exposing her beautiful panty-clad bottom. Once again, he began alternately caressing and swatting Shannon’s cheeks while she continued to moan. As the rubbing got deeper, the swats came faster, each a little harder than the last. Erik was soon spanking Shannon with strong, full-armed strokes. Her feet left the floor as a particularly sharp slap landed across her reddening fanny. Noticing this, Erik massaged the area where his hand print appeared on her right cheek. He then pulled her panties down to the backs of her knees and continued to rub the tender area. A minute later, he was back to soundly slapping her ass. Shannon was wincing with every swat and yet she couldn’t keep but from grinning as she felt herself becoming hot all over- not just her ass, but her face and her body. An intoxicating warmth spread from the tops of her ears to the tips of her toes. She’d gone from moist to drenched when Erik slid her panties down and now that he was spanking her bare bottom she was delirious with the mixture of pleasure, pain and humiliation. The swats were coming down hard and fast now. Shannon began to kick and cry out. Her cheeks were ablaze and felt as if they were throbbing two beats faster than her heart. Finally, as the spanking reached a fevered pitch, Shannon managed to say one coherent word:

“Please!”

Erik recognized the sound in her voice and knew immediately that this was not just a request for him to stop spanking her, but a demand for him to start doing something else. He delivered two more swats, one to each cheek and quickly began to massage them once again. He kneaded her burning buttocks with his hands, squeezing and patting them as well. As he did this, he occasionally let his fingers wander between her thighs to explore her wetness. It didn’t take long for him to realize that she was ready. Erik gathered Shannon’s limp, quivering body into his arms rolling her over as he lifted her up. She looked up at him through her weepy eyes as he carried her to the bedroom. There was no anger on his face, no contempt or superiority. It was clear that he had simply given her something of which she had been indire need: a loving, attentive hand.

The next morning, the two had a long discussion over breakfast. They decided that Shannon could benefit from a lifestyle that included spankings in response to her verbal outbursts. They agreed on a simple set of rules then shook hands and kissed to seal the deal.

During the months that followed, they stuck to their plan. Every time Shannon lost her temper and flew off the handle she was soon punished with a session across Erik's lap where she received a hard bare bottom spanking. If she used particularly poor judgment in her choice of words while quarreling, she would also spend ten or fifteen minutes standing in a corner with her freshly painted back porch on display.

Erik even managed to the details of this arrangement into their wedding vows. At the altar, after audibly promising to love and cherish her, Erik leaned in and whispered a few private words into the ear of his new bride:

“I also vow to take this little spitfire across my knee and spank her bare bottom bright red whenever she needs it.”

Shannon blushed deeply at the thought of someone overhearing this and when she saw the giddy smile on the minister’s face as he asked for the rings her face turned the shade of raspberry sherbet.

One year later, to the day, found Shannon in her kitchen preparing a first anniversary dinner for her husband. She’d left work three hours early in order to surprise him when he came home. The food, all his favorite dishes, came out perfectly and was on the table at 6:00- the time Erik normally walked through their front door. By 6:15 the food had cooled and Erik wasn’t home yet, so Shannon put the meat and vegetable dishes in the oven. She left a concerned message on Erik’s voice mail at 6:30 and two angry ones at 6:45 and 7:00. At 7:15 Erik finally arrived home to find his wife staring coldly at him from her chair at the dinner table.

“Happy anniversary!” she began sarcastically.Erik stood silently in the doorway while Shannon flew into a tirade. She went into great detail about her efforts to make this evening special and how upset she was that he didn’t even bother to call and tell her he’d be late. She declared that Erik didn’t really love her, that he only cared about himself and that she had no idea why they were together. She peppered these statements with an abundance of cruel insults and extremely fowl language. She was about to grab the carefully prepared table and flip it over in her rage when she suddenly noticed a band-aid on her husband’s forehead.“What the hell is that?” she said, her voice softening as she approached him.

“It’s just a bump.” he told her. “I got car-jacked this afternoon.” Erik walked with Shannon to the dinner table and sat down as he calmly explained that a young man had assaulted him in the office parking lot. He said that he’d handed his keys over as ordered, then the man bashed him on the head with the butt of a pistol and drove off. “I spent the next two hours at the police station filing a report. I took a cab home.”

“But why didn’t you call?” Shannon asked.

“My phone was in the car.” Erik said. “I guess I could have called from the station, but I didn’t want to worry you. Besides, I didn’t know you’d be home early tonight.”

“Oh, honey!” Shannon kissed his bruised forehead. “You must be starving! Let me put dinner back on the table.” she said, walking into the kitchen.

“Dinner can wait!” Erik stated in a manner that stopped Shannon her tracks.

She turned around to see Erik's angry stare.

"I just talked myself into a spanking, didn't I?"

"Don't underestimate yourself," Erik replied with a smirk. "You not only talked yourself into a spanking, you talked Your panties all the way down to your ankles! Now get in the living room! And bring the chair with you!"

Shannon dreaded that phrase: "bring the chair". It meant that she was in big trouble. Those three words told Shannon that Erik would soon be rolling up his sleeve. They foretold kicking and tears and promised that she’d soon be rubbing a very sore bottom as she stood in the corner.

Shannon took a chair from the table and brought it into the next room where her husband was waiting, arms folded. Erik snatched the chair from her, placed it on the floor and immediately sat down. Before she could blink twice, Shannon was over his lap with her skirt up and her panties down. Erik gave his wife’s soft, round ass cheeks a few preliminary rubs and squeezes.

“We should get new carpet.” she said. “This burnt umber shade is kind of yucky.”

“I don’t think it’s so bad.” Erik replied as he began gently slapping her ass.

“Sure! You’re not the one who has to stare at it all the time!”

Making small talk with a few jokes thrown in was Shannon’s way of lightening Erik’s mood before a spanking. And, to a certain extent, it worked. Of course, it never completely got her out of being punished. Once Erik decided to take Shannon to the
woodshed, she was going to the woodshed.

Shannon glanced over her shoulder nervously.

“May I ask how bad I’m going to get it?”

“Yes, you may.” Erik said, then continued giving her bottom a warm up.

“Thanks.” she replied toward the floor. After a dozen or so moderate swats, she looked back over her shoulder again. “Okay, how bad am I going to get it?!”

“I want you to imagine that I’m putting an English muffin into our toaster.”

“Okay.” Shannon replied tentatively.

“What are the three settings on the dial of that toaster?”

“Um... light?” the young woman guessed with a hint of hope in her voice.

“Good. Keep going.”

“Medium?”“

One more.” Erik replied as he casually rolled up his right sleeve.

Shannon swallowed hard.

“Dark?”

“Bingo!”

“Damn!” she said through pouting lips. “Why do you always have to toast muffins like that?!”

“Makes the butter melt quickly.” said Erik. And with that, he lifted his hand and delivered the first serious swat.

Shannon yelped and gritted her teeth in anticipation of the next one, which also proved to be a real stinger. Like a pitcher who was properly warmed up, Erik soon brought the spanking to an intense pace. He smacked his wife’s bottom with all the speed and strength he could summon. Shannon began whimpering and her eyes were filled with tears.

“His hand is so hard!” she thought. “How can such a sweet man have such rough, powerful hands?!”

Her buttocks felt like molten glass. Trying to brace herself, she grabbed onto the left front and rear legs of the chair. She tried not to kick, but her reflexes soon took over and her feet were flying wildly through the air. As the torrent of slaps continued to scorch her burning backside, Shannon began bawling like a child sent to the principal’s office. She apologized profusely through her tears and promised that she would never lose her temper again. Unconvinced, Erik continued spanking his wife until her ass was raw, red and swollen.

“Okay, stand up.” Erik finally commanded.Shannon pushed herself from his lap and stood sobbing before him. Erik took his sweetheart into his arms hugging her and kissing her tear-stained face until she finally stopped crying. He then took Shannon gently by the arm to the corner near the couch. He was about to tell her that she was to stand there with her panties down for the next fifteen minutes when the phone rang.

He went into the kitchen to answer it.

As she stood in the corner gripping her sizzling buns in both hands, two thoughts ran through Shannon’s mind. One was that her husband had the hardest hands she’d ever felt, the other was that she must be the luckiest woman on Earth.

Erik returned a minute later and told Shannon that the police had found his car. “It’s at the impound lot downtown. They say it hasn’t been damaged. I told them you’d drive me down in a few hours to pick it up.” He put his hand on Shannon’s shoulder and turned her around so he could look into her soft, watery eyes.

“Happy anniversary!” she said with a sincere smile.

They embraced.

“Happy anniversary!” he replied, laughing a bit as he reached down to firmly cup her burning ass cheeks in his rugged hands. As he did this, Erik kissed his way down Shannon’s neck to her chest.

“Baby," she whispered. "I want to put some antiseptic on your forehead. I don’t want you to get an infection.”

“Yes,” Erik groaned back, his voice a bit muffled as he pressed his lips into her cleavage. “And I’m going to rub some cream on your bottom. I don’t want you to blister.”

Moaning softly, Shannon tilted her head back as her right hand unzipped Erik’s pants and deftly maneuvered its way into his underwear. “What am I going to do with you?” he asked with a knowing smile.

"Just keep loving me, okay?" Shannon replied, looking hopefully into her husband’s adoring eyes.

"Let me tell you something, my little spitfire,” Erik said, giving the tip of her nose a kiss. "I'll love you 'til you can't sit down!”

THE END