Pink, Red, Then Straight To Bed

[goodgirl7]

I start when I hear the front door close with a snap. “Honey, is that you?”, I call. How very unusual for him to be home that early tonight. On the first Friday of the month he usually works late – he says they have a meeting, but I have a shrewd suspicion that he takes his team down to the pub around the corner from the office for a couple of drinks. Be that as it may, it also means that I spend the first Friday every month with the girls for dinner and a movie – unless we decide to forget that we’re all happily married ladies and go out dancing and drinking like college students. Right now I am half hidden in my wardrobe, trying to find the perfect top to my favourite short skirt for the occasion.

“Yes, I’m home!”, he calls back. A little while later I hear him traipse up the stairs. Uh-oh – half the content of my wardrobe is scattered around me and he hates that. I hastily pick up all the clothes I can reach and throw them into the handily positioned washing basket at the bottom of the wardrobe. There – discussion avoided!

He comes in with a letter in his hand, frowning. “You’re early.”, I say, taking off the blue and white top, carefully folding it and returning it to the wardrobe. “Yes, the meeting finished early.” He points at the letter. “I got a picture in the mail.”

“You what?” I ask absent-mindedly, trying the red v-neck. “Yeah”, he says lightly, “what you and I like to call ‘roadside portrait photography’.”

I freeze behind the wardrobe door. A speeding ticket? He never gets a ticket. But we sometimes swap cars. Oh dear. If it’s mine, I’m in BIG trouble. He had made that very clear last time. He can be such a stickler for things like that. Rules and stuff.

I quickly go through my mind how best to control the situation. Should I shrug it off? No, wouldn’t work. Beg and plead? If I don’t come up with something good, I will need all the begging and pleading later. Humour? Hm. Worth a try.

“Aww, never mind, baby.”, I say indulgently. “That can happen to anyone. Happened to me a while ago, remember?”

“As a matter of fact”, he says sweetly, “it is you it happened to - it’s your picture.” I close my eyes and curse under my breath as he continues “Remember that we swapped cars the other day? When I…”

“When you wanted to take that chest-of-drawers to your sister, and it wouldn’t fit into your car, but it fit into mine.”, I finish for him, still hidden behind the door. There – all that nonsense about my memory not working. My memory’s good! Just short.

“How much do they want for the picture?” I ask casually, still rummaging in the wardrobe, though I am now fully dressed.

“You were nearly 10 mph too fast.”, he says, handing me the letter.

“Gosh, I look like my Aunt Louise.”, I say, looking at the picture. “Do you think we should try and get a better one?”

“Hilarious”, he says dryly, “You know, I somehow get the impression that you don’t really take this very seriously.”

Wrong. I’m just seriously trying to get out of a spanking.

“Well, no-one else was on the road, so it didn’t really matter.”, I say evasively.

“Oh, in that case, that’s quite alright then, is it?”, he says, anger now obvious in his voice. See? Told you the shrugging-it-off-technique is useless with him.

He takes my hand that is still resting on the wardrobe door and pulls me towards him. “What did I tell you would happen if you ever got another ticket?” He stops and looks me up and down. “And didn’t I tell you that I didn’t ever want to see you wear that skirt again? It’s too short!”

True, that’s what he said, but fact is, he wouldn’t have seen me wear it, had his meeting lasted till eight as always. I’d normally be out of the house before that and he was usually asleep before I got back. However, I feel that now is not the best time to discuss semantics.

He gives me another look that scorches, then picks up my purse.

“You’re not going out tonight.”, he tells me.

I gasp. “You’re grounding me? You can’t! It’s my night out with the girls, they’ll be waiting for me!” I hate that I’m sounding like a school girl.

He raises an eyebrow. “You know, I think that’s what mobile phones are for.” He pulls mine out of the purse. “Hilarious.”, I mumble, but only get a sharp slap on my skirt-clad bottom in return. I don’t complain though, I am way too worried what he will tell my friends why I won’t be with them. Please don’t tell them the truth, I think frantically, crossing my fingers so hard it hurts.

“Hi Jen. – No, sorry, it’s me. – Exactly, she’s not feeling that well, she can’t come tonight.” He leans against our bed while listening to my friend. “No, she’ll be okay, just… back ache. No, not the shoulders this time. Lower back, you know the kind.” He looks at me pointedly and I blush furiously, hoping that Jen will simply think I have my period. I have never told my friends that he spanks me when he feels I deserve it, and I don’t ever want them to know.

“Sure, I tell her. You have a good time, say hi to the others from me. Bye then!” He closes the phone and puts it back into my purse.

“Now I better make sure I haven’t lied to Jen about the pain in the lower back, shall I?”, he asks and I swallow hard. I know what’s coming.

He takes my wrist and guides me over to our bed. Sitting down, he positions me right in front of him and opens the zip of my skirt. “I can’t believe you got another ticket.”, he says, letting my skirt fall to the floor, gesturing me to step out of it and handing it to him. “You promised if I only let you off without a spanking, you would never let this happen again!” He tugs at my pantyhose and it slides down to pool around my ankles, quickly followed by my panties. “It was an accident.”, I pout.

“Well, you were lucky not to have caused an accident, driving 10 mph too fast in that neighbourhood.”, he tells me angrily. He guides me over his knee. “And I’m telling you one thing, young lady, that was the last time I let you talk me out of a spanking with promises to never do it again.”

I’m too busy sulking to answer.

His left arm closes around my waist, pulling me closer, his right hand rubbing my bottom. Then I feel the first hard smack on my bare cheeks. “I will not have you speed, it’s dangerous.”, he says, as he settles into a rhythm. “I can’t believe you got another ticket, I…”

I let his voice wash over me as he continues to scold, but do my best to ignore him. This is my favourite part of any spanking and I don’t want his scolding to interfere with my having fun. I just love being over his knee, getting my bottom warmed with his hand. It doesn’t get closer, more personal, than that. I close my eyes while the butterflies are dancing in my tummy and he keeps smacking my bottom. Of course I have to kick my feet a little (getting rid of my pantyhose and panties in the process) and give little grunts of pain, otherwise he’d know, and would change his tactics. But right now is perfect, my bottom has just the right kind of sting, the right kind of heat, and there’s the right kind of tingling between my legs. If he’d stop spanking now, I mean, we’re already in the bedroom, and the sex is always best after a spanking…

“OUCH!” An extra hard spank on my thigh interrupts my musing. I throw him an aggrieved look. For some reason he looks annoyed. “I asked you something! Are you telling me that you weren’t listening?”, he asks incredulously. “Of course I was!”, I say quickly. “You said… that speeding is dangerous… and that I shouldn’t do it. Because it’s dangerous.” Oh yeah, I said that already, didn’t I? “And the tickets are expensive. And…” He stops my wild guesses with a resigned sigh. He helps me up and points to the corner. “To the corner with you.” I obey as he watches me, still shaking his head in this resigned way.

He gets up from the bed. “I’ll be back in a minute. Don’t you dare move and NO RUBBING. Understood?”

I nod eagerly. “Yes, sir, understood.” His eyes linger on me for a moment, as if he’s not quite convinced, but then he leaves the room.

I bet he stands just outside the door, waiting to catch me red-handed – or rather red-bottomed – rubbing.

However, being the little angel that I am I stand in the corner, hands on my head, not moving a muscle, wondering if my spanking is over or not. I so hate standing in the corner, not knowing if I have to go back over his knee. I probably will though. My collecting tickets always upsets him. And so far it hasn’t been a very long spanking.

I hear him rummaging around in the study. Ah, he’s going through the cabinet containing the “correction collection”, there’s no mistaking the squeak of the cabinet door. I’ve asked him to oil that door several times and he promised he would - but you know how it is, ladies: If a man says he will fix it, he will – there’s no need to remind him about it every six months.

After a few minutes I hear him return, resisting the temptation of sneaking a peek to see what he carries. If only it isn’t the hairbrush or that new paddle with the holes in it. They are just mean!

“Stay in the corner.”, he says calmly. Right. I wasn’t really thinking of going anywhere, being bare from the waist and showing off a pink bottom.

I hear him rummaging around behind me for a few minutes. Then he comes closer and gently rubs my bottom. “Nice and pink.”, he says. I smile and rub against him, hoping to convey that there is an alternative to whatever he has in store for me, but he laughs “Oh, no, forget it. You will get your spanking, and then you’ll go straight to bed!”

Drat. What a killjoy he can be.

He takes me by the hand and pulls me over to the bed. Uh-oh. He has put the high wedge bed pillow on the bed. That doesn’t bode well.

He points at it. “Get over the pillow.”

I awkwardly clamber onto the triangular pillow. He has positioned it so that I am lying across my side of the bed, with my feet dangling uselessly over the side of the bed, my bottom raised about 10 inches above the mattress. Oh dear. That can only mean one thing…

“I thought Mr. T. might help you concentrate on what I am saying.”, he says. The tawse! How very, very unpleasant!

Still pouting, I grab hold of a pillow and hug it close, trying to get ready, and…

CRACK!

A wide band of pain erupts over both my cheeks.

“OUCH!” I say reproachfully.

“I’ll give you ‘ouch’, young lady.”, he says. I scowl. “I know you will.”, I grumble. “OUUUUUCH!!”

The tawse has landed for a second time and I find it very hard to lie still. That’s another mean thing about the wedge pillow. If you wriggle about too much, you fall off. And if you’re really unlucky, he will take it as a cue to start over.

CRACK!

“OUUUUUUCH – I’m sorry, okay? I won’t speed again!”, I frantically assure him, as I am not sure how many more I can take. With just three strokes he has covered most of my bottom and it HURTS!

“Well, I’m afraid we’re not yet discussing the speeding just now.”, he says coolly.

“What?” I nearly fall off the pillow. “What do you mean?”

He raises the tawse again. “I mean that right now we’re discussing the little fact that you weren’t even listening to me when I was talking about the dangers of speeding to you earlier. We will discuss the speeding a little later.”

Uh-oh.

CRACK!

“Owwwwwwwwieee!” This one landed on the very top of my cheeks “How much later?” I gasp. I’m really not sure how many more I can take. My bottom is on fire!

He pauses. “After I feel that you are truly sorry that you ignored my scolding.”, he answers. “But I really AM sorry! Honestly!”, I hurry to say.

CRACK!
CRACK!
CRACK!

“OUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUCH – PLEASE NO MORE!” The three strokes delivered in quick succession have me howl with pain and kicking my legs. “Look, I really am sorry! Please no more, it hurts too bad!”

He folds his arms, standing a little to the side, so that I can see him better. “Convince me.”, he says. “How?”, I ask. It’s taking all my willpower not to rub my bottom, but I have a feeling that rubbing might be slightly counterproductive right now.

He leans closer. “You will write me an essay about the dangers of speeding. You’ll have time tomorrow, seeing that you are grounded for the weekend.” I gasp. The entire weekend? Then I see the tawse dangling from his hand and think that a weekend at home might actually be quite nice.

“Alright… I mean, yes, sir. I will write the essay.”, I say meekly. He smiles. “Excellent. I want 5000 very convincing words!”

“5000 WORDS??” This time the words burst from me before I can stop them. He raises an eyebrow and I sigh. “Yes, sir, I will write an essay about the dangers of speeding. 5000 words.”

“Very good.”, he says. “Then let’s now discuss the speeding.” I bury my head in the pillow I’ve been hugging and sigh.

“Remind me again”, he says, “how many miles per hour you were too fast?”

“Ten.”, I say, my voice muffled by the pillow that I am still hiding in. “Ten.”, he repeats. “Then wouldn’t you agree that ten more strokes with the tawse sound reasonable?” I groan. Ten more! My bottom is already on fire, how can I take ten more? “But I am so sore already!”, I complain.

“Funny as it may sound,”, he says amicably, “this was the effect I was hoping for. Now, no more talking and get ready.” Get ready? Is he joking? How can I get ready for ten more of the tawse, other than putting on kevlar panties?

CRACK!

My head jerks up. “Owwwwwwwwwww”, I howl, “Not so hard!”

CRACK!

“Owwwwwwwwwwwwwww, please no more!” My legs are kicking wildly. He pauses. “Get back in position.”, he says firmly. “Head on your arms, legs uncrossed.” I do as I’m told, but my bottom is blazing so badly, I am actually scared of the next stroke. He doesn’t leave me much time to think about it though. The moment I am back in position, he raises his arm again.

CRACK!

“Owwwwwwww – please stop.” To my horror I realize I am sobbing. “It’s too much, I can’t…”

CRACK!

CRACK!

The last stroke has landed on my thighs and I squeal, rolling left and right as far as the wedge pillow allows without me falling off. My hand flies back to rub, but he catches it before it gets near my bottom. “Hands on the bed, baby.”, he says. “You don’t want me to start over, do you?” I sob as I shake my head. “Only five more.”, he says.

Only?

“Now, I would like you to count the last five to me.”, he says. “Understood?” I sniffle and nod, trying to brace myself. He raises his arm again.

CRACK!

“ONE!” I squeal as the stroke lands on the very top of my cheeks again. I’m clenching my hands around the pillow I am holding. This is not the first time he is using the tawse on me, but never before has he put the strokes on that hard. Never before has the pain of one single stroke been so intense!

CRACK!

“TWO!” I almost scream the number, as another stinging stroke has landed on my sit spot, followed almost immediately by the next.

CRACK!

“THREEEEEEEEEEEE!” Another one on the sit spot! I kick my legs, hoping to diffuse the sting a little, almost losing my balance on the triangular pillow, but it’s no use. He waits until I am lying motionless again.

CRACK!

“FOUUUUUUR!” Tears come into my eyes, as the third scorching stroke in succession lands on my sit spot. It’s all I can do to keep lying down, but I mustn’t get up now… Only one more to go if I keep lying down, but if I get up, he’ll be sure to give me extra.

CRACK!

“FIHIHIVE!” I sob as I slump over the pillow after the last stroke, the hardest of them all, lands on my sit spot.

“There, there.”, he says, putting the tawse on the bed next to me. He gently helps me up and hugs me tightly, thus effectively stopping my well-spanked girl dance. My arms are clamped to my sides by his hug, and I have a feeling that this is not an accident.

He kisses my forehead. “Corner time now, baby.”, he says gently. “Hands on your head and no rubbing, unless you want extra.” I shudder. That’s about the last thing I want. I let him lead me into the corner wiping my face on my sleeve. My eyes fall on my reflection in the mirror on the wall and I do a double-take: I can’t believe the colour of my bottom! It’s deeply red, especially my sit spot. I had no idea my bottom could have such a colour and I wouldn’t want to ever try it again. I stare at my reflection open-mouthed, but he firmly takes my hand and pulls me towards the corner. “Hands on your head”, he reminds me.

Corner time is never fun, but I can’t remember ever hating it more. The sting in my bottom is unbelievable and I fidget and dance, finding it impossible to stand still. The clock on his bedside table ticks away the seconds and gradually, very gradually the sting fades into a dull ache. It probably wasn’t the hardest spanking I’ve ever had, but it surely made an impression. Never before had he put the tawse on so hard! One of those strokes every time I get into the car, and I’d never speed again! I better don’t tell him that, I guess.

Finally, after what feels like hours, he says, “Please come here.” I take my hands off my head and shuffle over to where he stands next to the bed, not meeting his blue eyes. He gives me another long hug, then opens the bed for me. The wedge pillow seems to have returned to its place in his wardrobe, and I gratefully slip into the bed my hands finally flying to my hot bottom. Even after the corner time I can feel the heat radiating from it, as I gently massage my sore cheeks.

He pulls the blankets over me, then says earnestly, “You were very naughty to speed again after we discussed it and I let you off with a warning.”

I look away, my face reddening but he continues in a stern voice: “There will be no more warnings in this household. If you do something that warrants a spanking, you will receive the spanking at the very first offence, and there will be no more talking yourself out of trouble. We just saw where that leads to. Do you understand that?” I nod, still not looking him in the eye. He leans over me and kisses my cheek. “Now, I am going to make you some soup for dinner. You will stay in bed, is that clear? I’ll bring a tray up for you.” I nod again at the blanket.

“Before I go, I want to make one thing unmistakably clear.”, he says, lifting my chin so I have to look into his blue eyes. “I do not want to hear about you getting a ticket ever again, do you understand me?” As he is still holding my face I can’t nod. “Yes.”, I say seriously in a slightly cracked voice. “I understand. And I promise.” He smiles, gives me a little kiss on the cheek and leaves the room to make dinner.

I roll onto my side, trying to get comfortable despite my sore bottom. I know I will keep my promise.

I will make absolutely sure that he won’t hear about me getting a ticket ever again.

[sgtjoe]

Good story!