Mother Lie

“God damn it!”

I jumped, knocking my sour gummy worms into the couch cushions. I looked toward the bathroom; the door was shut, but the shower was off. I only had a couple of seconds, “Shit, shit. Fuck.”

“lola!” he bellowed through the thin layer of wood, slamming the shower door behind him. I brushed away the sour sugar as quickly as I could and shoved the remaining gummies in between the cushions.

“Y-yeah, baby?” I called, trying to sound calm. The door opened and he stepped out of the bathroom, soaking wet and fully naked. He glanced around the room and I stood up, locking my hands behind my back and smiling at him.

“Where’s my towel?” he asked, running his hand through his wet hair and scowling at me. I smirked and then shrugged.

“How the fuck should I know, baby?” I asked, my eyes scanning painfully slowly down his naked frame, pausing on his cock, beads of water in his dark wreath of hair and dripping from the tip. I licked my lips. He snapped at me, two fingers slipped together loudly, then pointed.

“Watch your mouth, girl,” he warned as my gaze shifted back up to his face, “Where the fuck is my towel? It’s not in there. You’re in charge of the laundry. There isn’t even a spare one in there! Am I going to find it in the fucking bedroom, lola?”

I closed one eye and squinted at the ceiling, thinking hard and fast. Shit. Maybe I had taken his after my last shower. Mine is never in the bathroom when I need it. Fuck!

“Um, maybe?” I asked, looking apprehensively at him. He seethed, drawing his hand up to his eyes and squeezing his temples.

“What did I tell you about taking my towels, lola?” he asked, his hand moving down to his mouth while he glared at me. Fuck, this is not good.

“Um, um…I’m sorry, Johnny…I was just…all wet…and I needed a towel, and I meant to put it back, I swear, I just had—” he put his hand up, then motioned to the bedroom. I shut my mouth and dashed past him, into the bedroom, and returned with his towel.

He was not smiling when he took it from my hands, and his frown deepened when he started to paw it, more and more quickly. He threw it hard back into the bathroom and turned to me, “It’s fucking all wet. How the fuck am I supposed to use that?”

“It’s not that wet, Johnny. Maybe a little damp, but because it was sitting under some clothes, not bec—”

“I didn’t ask WHY it’s wet!!” he yelled, grabbing my arm hard and pulling me into the living room, stomping dripping feet along the carpet the whole way. I followed, trying hard to keep up, dodging the coffee table and making little protesting sighs.

“Johnny, Johnny, wait! I’ll get you a new one…it’s fine…no no, wait! It’s not a bi—” I shut my mouth when he turned to me, his mouth dangerously close to mine. I could see the water dripping down the side of his face, trickling through his dark stubble, his shoulder flexing as his grip tightened.

“Are you,” he narrowed his eyes as he spoke, “seriously about to tell me that it isn’t a big deal, little one?”

He shook my arm gently, and I could feel his nails dig into my skin. I swung my head back and forth quickly, and stammered, “N-no S-ssir. I’m s-ssorry, Sir.”

“Mm hm,” he nodded, grabbing my hip and turning me around, yanking my skirt up briskly. I could feel his voice behind me, his breath on my hair, “You know better than that. I’ve told you before that you’re not to take my towels.”

He pulled me back around, my skirt flipped up. I crossed my legs, anxiously, my face pulled into a little pout. He continued as he sat, “You never put th—what the fuck!?”

He stood up and pushed me back, running his hand quickly over his ass and thighs. I could hear the grains of sugar hit the coffee table as his whisked them away from his body. He was cursing in strings now, trying to brush away the sweet and sour mess that was drying on his damp body. He looked at me.

“What the fuck is all this?” he demanded, still trying to rub away the mess. Fuck, I thought, what do I say? Shit, shit. I’m in so much trouble now. I was tongue-tied. I hoped he would mistake my silence for bewildered innocence. He grabbed the cushion to shake off the crumbs and my bag of gummy worms fell onto the ground, spilling the last of the sugar granules onto the carpet. Majorly fucked, now.

I thought he was going to scream. He was turning a different color, his face twitching with fury. I saw his chest flicker, blush red and his arm tighten until I squeaked in pain. Then, he let me go, pushed me away, took a few breaths.

“Corner. Now,” he said, his voice low and taut, stretched with anger. He was chewing on what he wanted to say, his jaw tense, flexed. I was not about to argue. I turned quickly and headed for our bedroom, unbuttoning my skirt as I went, and not once, not once looking back at him.

I didn’t shut the door to the bedroom; I wasn’t allowed to shut doors. Instead, I stripped off my skirt and moved quickly to the empty corner beside the bureau, spread my legs shoulder width apart and put my hands on the back of my head. I laced my fingers tightly together and stared at the wall. My stomach was flipping over and over, the gummies in my stomach were acid sour. I wanted to throw up. I wanted to peek out around the hall corner, apologize and hear him tell me to come sit in his lap, that it was okay, it was a mistake, that he forgave me.

Somehow, it didn’t seem like it was going to go that way this afternoon. I leaned onto my hip and scratched the back of my left calf with my right foot.

In the background, I heard him open the hall closet, fumble with the vacuum cleaner, drag it heavily into the living room and flip it on. I heard it roll over the sugar mess; I heard him pull out the hose and go over the cushions. I wondered if he was still naked.

My arms were starting to ache. He hadn’t come back for me and I hated waiting. I deserved to wait, but I hated it. I heard the shower flicker on again and the glass door close. I wanted to shake out my arms so badly, but I was terrified he might look in at any moment. So I waited, ticking off the time, wishing we had a wallpaper with some intricate design because the sage green walls were so damn boring.

I shook my head at any thoughts of the impending punishment. I could feel the hot blush spreading across my ass, traveling quickly down my thighs as I shut my eyes against images of belts and hairbrushes, of crops and straps. Groaning, I thumped my forehead against the wall. In that second, the shower flicked back off.

My heart jumped into my throat, pounding hard and making it impossible to breathe properly. I straightened instinctively; the last thing I wanted now was for him to come into the bedroom and find me slouching or out of position. My arms were heavy and weak, my fingertips numb, but I couldn’t think about that now. I heard him sigh, then seconds later, emerge from the bathroom.

I didn’t turn around when he filled the door frame. I was whimpering to myself, but I stayed in the corner when he crossed to the bed and sat down on the edge of the mattress, the footboard. I heard him clear his throat, then, “Arms down, turn around, baby.”

I tried not to well up, but he sounded so disappointed. Somehow that hits me harder than anger. I was reluctant, but not in the mood to be more disobedient. I lowered my arms and shook my wrists a little, turning around slowly. He wasn’t looking at me but off to the side, his hands catching the edges of the footboard and the damp towel wrapped around his waist.

“I’msosorry,Johnny,” I blurted out, my voice cracking a little as I twisted my hands in my lap. He looked up at me and shook his head, motioned for me to come closer. I inchstepped forward until he grabbed my hand and tugged me in front of him, jerking me to my knees between his legs.

“What did I tell you last time you took my towel?” he asked, letting go of me while I found my balance.

“You told me that I would be punished so that I never forgot again,” I whispered, and then as his look intensified, “Sir.”

“Mm hm,” he nodded, “And why did I tell you that you couldn’t have my towels, little one?”

I chewed my lip before answering, “Because you said I never put them back, Sir.”

“Did you take my towel without asking?” he continued, crossing his arms and looking down at me steadily.

I nodded.

“Answer out loud, please,” he added briskly, reaching forward and pulling my face up to look at his.

“Yes.”

“Yes what?”

“Yes, Sir, I took your towel without asking.”

“Is my towel now wet? Was it where it was meant to be?” he continued, driving the point home over and over. I hated being treated like a child. I narrowed my eyes a little, but he leaned forward and slapped my cheek lightly, scolding, “None of that.”

I swallowed and looked down again, “No Sir, it was not where it was meant to be.”

“Right,” he said simply, closing his hands together then folding his knuckles back until I heard them pop, “Go get me the wooden paddle from the chest, then.”

I paled. I hated paddles almost most of all. No sting, all thud. They hurt for a long time, deep bruises on my bottom and made it hard to sit at all. But it would be worse if I opened my mouth to protest or negotiate. I stood up and went quickly over to the deep mahogany chest in the corner, opened it and dug through until I found the wretched thing. I was quick to return it and place it in his hand.

I was surprised when he set it on the bed and motioned me back to the floor. Maybe he could see that on my face because he said, “No, we’re not done yet, baby.”

I found my place on my knees again and he continued, “What were you doing while I was in the shower, lola?”

I knew immediately. How could I have forgotten the gummy worms? I nodded, sighing to myself, “I was reading a magazine and eating sour gummies.”

He ground his teeth together, looking away for an instant, then back to me, “Were you allowed to have those?”

“No…butIboughtthemwithmyallowanceandsoyoudo—” I talked as fast as I could, but he slapped my face again, harder this time.

“WERE THEY ALLOWED?” he yelled, leaning close to me so I could feel his breath.

I shook my head quickly, “N-no, noSir.”

“Why am I angry, woman?” he persisted, forcing me to relay my crimes out loud.

“Because they weren’t allowed, Sir. Because I have to have permission to put anything into my body, Sir. Because it’s not mine, it’s yours. I’m sorry, Sir. I just didn’t think it—”

“Oh, I know. I know what you thought,” his anger was back and he was gripping the wooden footboard tighter, his teeth clamped shut, “You thought that while I was preoccupied you could do what you wanted, isn’t that right?”

“No, Sir,” I replied, leaning back against my feet, afraid of what he might do.

“Oh? OH? Well then, why were they HIDDEN IN THE CUSHIONS?!?” he yelled, his voice louder, building. He was breathing harder, faster. I had no choice; he was right.

“Yes, Sir,” I said, quietly, “I’m sorry, Sir.”

He slapped my face again, hard, “Don’t ever lie to me again.”

I cradled my cheek and shook my head, tears in the corners of my eyes. He sat back down on the bed, took a breath, growled in frustration, then, “Go get the blue plug out of the chest.”

I looked up quickly. It was big, not the biggest, but on the uncomfortable side of big. I was totally unprepared. I almost shook my head, except for the thought of the black plug. He was being generous. I got up slowly, my knees feeling weak and a cold sweat on the back of my thighs.

My fingers weren’t working properly and I couldn’t seem to find it in the large wooden box. He grunted as the seconds ticked on. I had to find it. I took a breath as my pulse fluttered. There. There in the linen sack behind the soft cuffs and the pony bit. I closed my fingers around it. Barely, feeling a wave of nausea. I blinked hard and then started to cry. My eyes were red and tears were collecting under my chin when I brought it back to him.

He took it, then closed his hand around, my wrist, looked me in the eyes, asked, “Why are you crying, little one?”

Compassion; it made me cry harder. He pulled me to his chest, wrapped his arms around me and petted the back of my hair, making little shushing noises.

“Hush, baby,” he said, stroking my back, “Why are you crying?”

“Because I’m scared,” I whispered, pulling back and wiping my eyes with my sleeve wrists, looking at his mouth.

“What are you scared of, baby?” he asked, his voice comforting and smooth. His hands slid down my arms to my hips and rested there while he watched my face.

“You,” I said, softly, chewing on my lip again. He smiled.

“You’re not afraid of me, little one,” he said, “You’re afraid that I am angry with you and that I don’t love you, but you know that’s not true. I always love you. I have to punish you because you are disobedient, but I still love you. You’re afraid that it’s going to hurt, too, and it is, because you have to learn to be a good girl. But you’ve been spanked with this paddle before, little one, and you’ve had this plug in your bum before. And you’re still in one piece. Right?”

I frowned, my lip trembling slightly, but nodded.

“Good girl,” he said, sliding his thumb across my cheek and pulling me down to kiss my forehead, “Now, go bend over your side of the bed. Leave your panties on for now, but spread your legs.”

I stomped my foot a little and he frowned, “Now.”

I breathed in deep and nodded, “YessssSir.”

Pulling my tee shirt down as low as it would go, I found my side of the bed and crawled across it until my thighs hit the mattress side. I opened my legs and tucked my face into my arms, squeezed my eyes shut tight. I felt him get off the end of the bed, pick up the heavy paddle and move around behind me.

There was no warm up spanking. This was going to hurt. My panties weren’t even a laughable shield. The first one hit me so hard that my shins smacked into the bed frame. I howled, my head snapping up and spinning around to him. The look on his face was different, focused. He pulled the paddle back far and I braced for a second swing. My bottom tensed; I couldn’t help it. I gasped for air when it slammed against my ass.

“Ow, ow ow owwww, Johnny!” I shrieked, kicking my legs. I could feel the imprint of the paddle burn hot on my skin.

“Quiet,” he commanded, with three quick, successive slaps of the wooden board. I was moaning into my hands, my hips digging hard into the mattress. He was relentless, methodical, plastering my aching backside with a volley of slaps. And it seemed effortless for him. SMACK, SMACK, SMACKSMACK.

I hiccupped through my tears, grunting as the paddle slapped against my skin. My bottom red was deepening and I began to make promises, “Please Sir, please, I’ll be a good girl, owww ow ow, I s-swear. Mmmowch! I w-won’t, w-w-won— OWCHH, won’t touch—ow, mmm, I won’t touch your th-thingsssss, pleeeeease, owwww ow ow ow.”

He yanked down my panties. He wasn’t answering me. The paddle was mean, cruel, punishing my aching bottom with no truce in sight. I felt it whipped along the top of my thighs, and I moaned into the coverlet, yanking the cotton into my mouth and biting down hard.

Thirty consecutive smacks on my skin and I was sobbing like a little girl, chewing on my pain. I twisted, clenching against the throbbing ache. I could hear him panting softly, while he waited. My body was shaking hard and I shifted my hips.

“Half done, my girl,” I heard, the groan escaping my lips loud and low. I turned around, my eyes puffy red and wet with tears.

“Please, no more, Sir?” I asked, hopefully.

He tilted his head to the side, and crossed his arms, “Do you think that that was enough, little one?”

I shook my head slightly, very repentant, my thoughts shifting to the plug that he would very soon be pushing into my tight, unwelcoming asshole.

“You took my towel, used it, left it in a heap in the bedroom so that when I got done with my shower I had to drip dry in the hallway. You had the nerve to laugh and say you had no idea where it was. You have been warned about this repeatedly because you habitually leave me without clean towels. Do you think that that is the behavior of a good girl, of a loving wife? Do you think I should allow that to continue?” he asked, turning the paddle over in his hands.

I groaned and sunk my head back into the comforter, kicked the mattress with my thigh.

“Do you?” he repeated, dropping the paddle to his side.

“No,” I said into the blanket, twitching irritably. I wanted it over, but I knew that I deserved the rest of the spanking.

“Then ask me to finish, like a good girl, and stop pouting,” he said, dismissively, flexing his fingers around the handle.

I thought about this briefly. If I said nothing, or worse, if I refused, I was sure he would dig through that horrid chest and come up with something more painful for my show of insubordination. And really, I just wanted to be forgiven. Even if it meant more punishment first.

I turned around and brought my gaze up to his mouth, rubbing my eyes quickly with the back of my hand, “Will you please finish my spanking, Sir?”

“Yes, I will, little one. Scoot back and raise your bottom up higher,” he said, leaning into his rear leg and lifting the paddle again. I groaned to myself, but moved back into position.

The spanking continued, faster, harder. I was wailing after the sixth stroke and squirming wildly. When he caught my hip with the eleventh, he paused again, “I’m going to have to start all over if you don’t stop moving, girl. Do you want that?”

I shook my head furiously and tried to calm down. He slapped my bottom so hard with the next one that it rang in my ears. He was testing me and I promised myself I wouldn’t move. I gave up begging and cried, groaning as the wood collided with my beaten skin.

And then it was over. I felt the paddle land heavily beside me and tried to look up. I was still convulsing with sobs though, and my legs felt weak. I felt his weight next, sagging into the mattress next to me. His hand was on my back, caressing over my bottom, my thighs. He felt good. My sobs slowed until I was breathing jagged, damp breaths and shuddering intermittently.

“Good girl,” he cooed, petting between my thighs and then giving me a light squeeze. I winced, sucking in a breath, sharp needles of pain climbing my spine, “Take off your panties and climb over my lap now.”

I saw him reach for it and my heart sunk into my belly. I really wanted to run away, fast and far, but I couldn’t. The spanking done, I wanted to be a good girl again. I wanted to finish my punishment so he would cradle me in his arms and tell me that I was a good girl, that he loved me, that he forgave me.

I stood up while he leaned over and pulled open the drawer in the night stand. I closed my eyes and kicked off my panties, determined not to see him preparing to open me with that horrible plug.

My eyes were still stubbornly clenched shut when he said, “Come here, baby. I’m going to finish your punishment.”

I heard him pat his thigh with his free hand and I opened one eye, darted across his lap and tucked my arms underneath my chest, whimpering to myself already. The towel underneath my thighs was damp and made me feel itchy; I squirmed in anticipation, groaning a little.

“Open up,” he said, running his palm along the inner edge of my ass, pulling my cheek to the side and tapping his thumb on my tensed little pucker. I leaned up, flinching as he dripped the cold lubricant on my bottom, my cheeks clamping together instinctively.

He put the plug down and ran his hand up my vertebra, to the back of my neck, closed his fingers around it and held me for a second, saying softly, “You need this punishment, little one. You disobeyed me and that is not acceptable. You will remember that in the future if you have clear consequences. Do you understand?”

I was hot all over, then cold, but I whispered, “Yes, Sir.”

“Good girl. You need to relax, though. It will hurt a lot more if you don’t. Do you trust me, baby?”

I nodded, but he said, “Out loud.”

“Yes Sir, I trust you… I really don’t want this, Sir—it’s going to hurt a lot. I promise I’ll be a good girl and I won’t forget why I was punished, I promise. Please don’t do this, Sir?”

He sighed, “Enough, baby. You are getting this plug in your bum and it is staying there until you go to bed. If you are a good girl, I’ll take it out then. If not, you can sleep in it. No more discussion.”

I began to moan and kick my legs, wiggling my hips angrily, protesting, “All daaaay?”

His hand landed hard twice, three times, on my bright red and very sore bottom, then, “Enough, lola. Open your legs a little wider and calm down, or I can do this without lubricant. You really won’t like that.”

I bit my lip and pulled the covers all around my face, crying about how unfair this was for some stupid gummy worms. I felt the tip of his finger first, sticky wet and just testing my resistance. Then with little effort, he pushed it into my asshole. I gasped, my thighs flexing quickly, but took a deep breath.

He didn’t take his time like he did when we were fucking or when it was done for pleasure, but he wasn’t cruel. He opened me slowly, a second finger sliding in and out steadily as my hole relaxed, as it bloomed for his touch. My cunt was swelling and I pressed my lap against his. He allowed it; but then, too soon, the cold rubber of the plug rimmed my delicate opening.

I groaned and felt my belly turn icy. He was firm, pressing it against me and saying, “Raise up, higher. Now.”

I pushed my hips up and swallowed hard, the plug sliding neatly in a third of the way, then I felt it stretching me wider than I had gotten with his fingers. I hated the cold stickiness of it and it made me tense up; I wriggled until I heard him clear his throat in warning. Halfway. It was halfway and it hurt.

“Please, wait, Sir,” I gasped as he pushed it farther, my shoulders knotting and my forehead furrowed in pain. He slid it back down to one third and I breathed out loudly. But as I breathed in, he pushed it farther, farther than before. I squeaked, kicking my foot against the bed and then moaned.

“Hush, now,” he said, working it in and out of my bottom. I liked it when he did that; I liked it when he fucked me with the plug. Whimpering, I pressed my cunt down on his lap, the towel stretching between us as he stroked into my tight hole. I could feel him beneath me, hard, his cock poking at my belly and hips while I writhed against him. Fuck, it feels good. I wished he had been fucking my pussy instead, driving his beautifully veined meat into my slit. I moaned.

He pushed the plug all the way in and I blinked back stars of pain. I couldn’t even make a sound, my breath gone. Then I yelped, cried, my asshole pushed open wide and flinching against the rubber.

“Please take it out, Sir! Pleeease please,” I begged, my bottom tensing hard around the foreign body. I turned to him, grabbed his neck, “Please, it hurts, please!”

He shook his head at me, pushed me back down, then ran his hand over my punished backside. Prickles of heat rose against his palm and I cried harder. He let me, sobbing over his lap until it became crying, soft moaning, and then nothing.

I jerked my hips and pressed them against his lap. It was big, but my body was adjusting to it. When he tapped the base, a shiver of desire ran electric through my body. I groaned, bouncing my cunt against his lap. I felt him there, hot, hard, waiting for me.

“Sir?” I asked softly, my thighs flickering against his. He grunted, and I continued, “Can we fuck, Sir? Please?”

I looked at him with my sweetest face. I had already been punished for both indiscretions; maybe he would let me have his cock in my pussy. I moaned loudly and punched the mattress when he shook his head.

“You haven’t earned that, slut,” he said, pressing on the plug again until my pussy dripped onto the towel and I was shaking with lust, as he went on, “But, I want to fuck something, so you’re in luck.”

I perked up and turned around again.

“On your knees, then,” he said, pushing at my hip. It is lucky. I would take it anyway I could get it. I grinned eagerly and slid between his legs, peeled the towel away from his lap and caught his hard, throbbing dick in my hand, to which he said, “No, no no.”

I looked up at him and let go, frowning slightly. He took his cock into his own hand, then with the other ran his palm over his balls, kneading them slightly, working a drop from the tip as he stroked. I lapped at my mouth and looked up at him, shifting on my knees as the plug held my ass open.

“Hands behind your back,” he instructed, pushing his foreskin up and then back down. My cunt was dribbling juice and my thighs were soaked. Fuck, I want that in my pussy. I locked my fingers behind my back and chewed on my lip, my gaze darting between his eyes and his pulsing cock.

“Come closer, cunt. I want to feel you between my thighs,” he said, working his shaft faster now, “You aren’t going to touch me. You’re going to relax your neck and throat like you did your slut asshole, and I am going to fuck your mouth until I cum.”

I nodded, pushing myself between his legs, forgetting the burning feel of my backside.

“If you gag, I’m going to keep going. If you choke, I’m going to keep going. If you throw up, I’m going to keep going. You are a hole for me to fuck, and you will keep it open for me until you feel my cum in your throat. When I’m done, you will lick me clean. My cock, my balls, my asshole, my thighs. Everything. Do you understand, cunt?”

I shook my head over and over, whimpering to have him on my tongue, “Yes Sir, thank you Sir.”

Without another word, he grabbed the back of my head and pushed me down his cock. My slippery throat had no problem swallowing him until I gagged. But he was true to his promise and he fucked my mouth through it, pushing hard against my tongue, past my teeth, into the tight tunnel on my throat, using me relentlessly, crushing my face to his lap while I gasped his cock into my swelling throat.

He pushed hard against me and I fought for air, my saliva leaking from my lips, spraying across his thighs as he pumped into me, grunting rhythmically with each thrust. I could feel his tight balls slapping against my chin, wet and cool against my hot skin. My cunt was throbbing and I pressed my legs together, my ass closing around the rubber plug and making me shiver.

I coughed as he fucked deeper, wetness frothing my lips and cheeks, but he pushed my head down, lifted his hips from the bed and bucked hard against the back of my throat, exploded hot, thick syrup into my mouth. I coughed again and swallowed, struggling alternately to get him in my belly and out of my mouth. I could hear him panting, felt a tremor run from his feet through his hips, his arms.

He swore and fell back on the bed. Without needing to be told, I began to lick him, tenderly absorbing my own spit and droplets of his cum back into my mouth, sponging my lips around his shaft, his balls, spreading his legs to lap underneath.

My tongue sought the dark crevices below where I could taste his soapy clean body, flicking around his thighs, plunging between his cheeks, lapping diligently at his asshole, fluttering my tongue just inside. Then, slow long licks, gentle nibbles on the tender inner flanks and taking his whole cock back into my mouth. I wrapped it with my tongue, my breath evening as he moaned softly, reached down to caress the back of my head.

“Good girl,” his voice blurred and he let me adore his cock a little bit longer. My cunt was crying out to be touched, handled, licked, lapped, fucked. But I kept my hands away. Maybe if I was a good girl, he’d change his mind and fuck me later. I crossed my fingers.

He sat up, helped me stand. I was shaky, my cunt swollen and glistening wet. He ran his fingers over my petals, slipped them inside to tease my button. I almost sunk to the floor again, but he held me still, then pushed me away with a soft, “No, no baby.”

I groaned, pressing my thighs together and stomping my foot gently. I pouted till he slapped my butt, making me clench around the plug and wince. He smiled, “No panties, no skirt. I’m going to have fun with that today.”

I shook my head, trying not to frown, “Yes Sir.”

“What do you say, baby?” he asked.

“I’m sorry, Sir, that I used your towel, and I’m sorry I disobeyed you and ate what I wanted. Thank you for punishing me. I’ll be a good girl, I promise,” I said, chewing on my fingernails.

“Once more. Hands out of your mouth,” he said, firmly. I dropped my hands and repeated it, trying very hard not to sound frustrated.

“Good girl,” he said when I was through, and pulled me to his chest, closing his arms around me. I breathed him in deep and thought, I love you, Johnny.

You, too, can have your own interactive spanking story. Click here!

lola was in trouble and she knew it. She wondered if Johnny would spank her right away or make her wait. ''Waiting is the worst!'' she thought, though in this case maybe it would be better to put it off... She didn't need to speculate, though, she'd know soon enough - she could hear a man's footsteps approaching the door. As she watched, the handle turned with what seemed like an unnatural slowness. An icy hand gripped her right in the middle of her bottom.

''Act natural,'' she told herself, which only caused her to give a nervous giggle just as her man walked in.

''What's wrong?'' Johnny asked immediately.

''Me? Nothing! Why do you ask?''

''Just that you have a strange look on your face.'' So much for ''natural,'' lola thought. Johnny continued. ''Okay, what have you done?''

''Um... nothing?''

''lola...''

''Yes, Johnny?''

''Come on, out with it. Now.'' He had never been all that patient in these situations and was already heading toward the kitchen. lola hurried to head him off.

''It's nothing, honest. It's just that... Well, I...'' Try as she might, she couldn't think of a way to make it sound any better.

''I didn't do the cleaning like you told me,'' she said with a rush. Johnny stopped in his tracks, slowly turning to look at her.

''lola lane! It's nothing, honest?'' he mocked in a voice of disbelief. ''It doesn't sound like nothing. It sounds a lot like wasting time.'' lola felt herself tighten at that word - it had unfortunate connotations - unfortunate for her and unfortunate for her bottom. ''We've talked about wasting time, haven't we?'' Johnny's speech went on. ''We have a way of dealing with wasting time, don't we, my girl?'' Every time he used the term ''wasting time'' he might as well be saying ''spanking,'' she thought. ''lola lane, you do know how we deal with wasting time, don't you?'' Instinctively lola's hands shot back to cover her bottom, in a way answering Johnny's question very clearly. Though that's not the answer her voice gave.

''Well, I know... but... I thought... maybe this time...

''You thought maybe this time what, my girl? That you wouldn't be spanked? That wasting time wouldn't get you a good bare-bottomed spanking?''

lola didn't want a spanking - Johnny's spankings hurt! While she was getting them they stung like mad - she was always convinced she just had to get away and never could - and they left her so sore! Not just sore, very sore - sore like when you sit down a long time later you can still feel it like you just got it, that kind of sore. And she certainly didn't want one of those - especially not on her bare bottom!

And that was exactly how her man was going to spank her - over his knee, her head down, skirt off, bottom up, panties down, bottom bare, her creamy skin inviting his stern reproval! Johnny had never once let her keep her panties up. Quickly lola's mind raced to remember what panties she'd put on, thankful that her purple checked ones wouldn't add any to her embarrassment - having her bottom bared was embarrassing enough as it was!

Part of her wanted to run and hide, but most of her simply followed Johnny into the kitchen - the kitchen, where she was always taken to be spanked. Much as she hated getting a spanking, especially one of Johnny's spankings, she really did dislike wasting time and really wished she could stop doing it. If having her man spank her would stop her from wasting time, maybe that was a good thing - if only it didn't have to be such a spanking!

Once in the kitchen, Johnny looked at her sternly as he sat on a kitchen chair, extending his legs as her soon-to-be ''resting'' place. My God, already? lola thought to herself, but Johnny, instead of immediately motioning her over his lap and into place, clasped a hand on each of her arms.

''Now little one, I want to be fair about this, you know that, I hope. You should also know that I'm disappointed to hear about your wasting time.'' lola's spirits sunk even lower, though for a new reason now. She didn't like to disappoint Johnny. ''Very,'' he added. Maybe she really did deserve a spanking. ''I want you to tell me how this happened,'' he concluded. She tried to bow her head but with a gentle touch he raised her chin and made her look him in the eye.

''I don't know...'' was all she could think of to tell him. It would take too long to explain and not do any good anyway - but he wasn't about to settle for that.

''This wasting time of yours, it must have had some reason. It didn't just happen, now did it? And I want you to tell me how or why it did.'' His face hardened even further. ''And you are going to tell me.''

''It's like this - I wanted to go get cigarettes and listen to music instead.''

''I see. lola?''

''Yes, Johnny?''

''Did I just hear anything that would keep me from giving you a spanking? Anything that would discourage me from giving you each and every swat of the spanking you've earned?''

''I don't know... maybe...'' she replied sullenly.

''lola lane.''

''No. I guess not...''

''No. Nothing I heard dissuades me in the least. You, my girl, have behaved yourself into a panties-down spanking and now you are going to get it.''

Fighting off thoughts of how soon Johnny would have her creamy bare and blushing, lola moved hesitantly to her man's side and was a little surprised when he didn't immediately pull her over his waiting lap. Glancing up at his stern face, her surprise turned to dismay and she felt her stomach tighten.

''Oh no,'' she said softly, hopelessly.

''Oh yes,'' came his reply. ''You know better.''

''No, really - please? I don't need that... do I?'' This last was no more than a whisper.

''You need to learn, and the belt helps you learn. Don't make me waste my time - spanking you by hand has never changed a thing.

''Go,'' Johnny demanded and commanded.

Reluctantly - very reluctantly - lola trudged off to get the belt. Retrieving it from the toy chest, she took just a tiny moment to feel both its unfeeling undefined and her own twinge of rebelliousness - ooo, to throw it, hide it, destroy it! Now that would be satisfying! Instead, the belt would have its satisfaction on her, heating, punishing, scalding her poor helpless bottom. And if she ever did manage to do away with it, lola had no doubt that Johnny would produce something even worse to deal with her current infraction and that additional one as well!

Shaking herself free of such imaginings, lola and her thoughts returned to the kitchen and her man's side, meekly proffering the demanded and dreaded belt, knowing full well that in mere moments it would be blistering her bottom, and thoroughly. Her poor little bottom! What did it ever do? It wasn't the one that had a problem with wasting time, she was. Why should it have to suffer? It just wasn't fair!

Oblivious to these objections, Johnny still sat like a deity on a kitchen chair, waiting to tumble her over his unforgiving thighs. As he reached to take the belt from her, she pulled it back slightly.

''You'll start slowly, won't you?'' She knew she wasn't supposed to ask and he always replied with ''Is that what you deserve, my girl?'' But this once Johnny just took the belt from her and nodded sympathetically.

Seeing his reaction lola realized that she must be in even more trouble than she imagined. Her whole body stiffened and shook and she couldn't keep herself from turning and trying to run away - but Johnny was too quick for her, he'd grabbed her wrist even as the belt left her hand. Before she knew it she was over his knee and the blood was rushing to her head.

Spank! He began immediately - spank spank spank spank spank!

''Ow! Oh! Wait!'' No matter how much time Johnny would take leading up to it, the first swat always startled her. Alternating stiffening and squirming, she quickly sunk into place as her man jostled her for a better and steadier grip.

Spank spank spank - spank spank spank spank! spank! spank! spank! spank!

''Ow! No! Too hard!'' lola protested, though really her skirt muffled the effect considerably - nearly all of this pain was caused by her own tension and apprehension. So far!

Spank spank spank spank! spank! spank!

''Ow ow ow!'' she continued, only to have Johnny chastise her further.

''Settle down, my girl - we haven't even started. I''m just getting you settled in. You can't even feel anything through your skirt.''

Spank spank spank! spank spank! spank spank!

''No, no! I feel it! I do! don't!'' lola insisted somewhat nonsensically - the chance that he would stop already was non-existent.

''Shall I stop already? I thought I was doing this for you - you do know what's next, don't you?''

Ah - here was the dilemma upon whose horns lola lay. To be spanked over her skirt, and therefore longer - or to shorten it a little and jump right to ''pants-down''? Or even panties-down? She made the same coward's choice she always had before.

Spank spank spank spank - spank spank spank! spank spank!

''No, no - that's okay,'' she decided immediately, and having done so found that this phase was much more tolerable. Maybe by the time he gets to my bare bottom I'll be ready, lola thought. Right. And maybe his arm will wear out first - or I'll just fly to the moon!

Spank spank spank - spank spank spank spank! spank! spank! spank! spank!

''Owww. Owwwwww,'' lola moaned softly, concluding that some sort of reaction was still in her favor. ''Hey! Wait!'' For no sooner had she resigned herself to an over-the-skirt spanking than the skirt-spanking was over! ''Stop! Not yet!''

''Oh?'' Spank spank spank spank!!! ''Haven't had enough yet? I thought you were in a hurry!'' Spank spank spank spank!!! lola's man saw to it that these final swats before her skirt deserted her made all the more of an impression.

''OW! Geez!'' She twisted around in an attempt to see if he was still using his hand - it seemed harder than ever! All she managed to see was Johnny removing her first line of defense. He slid the denium fabric off her bottom, revealing her purple checked panties.

Spank spank spank spank!!! Haaaaah, lola thought.

''Haaaaaaah!'' lola said. She had thought of her skirt as sort of insubstantial it but had been giving her more protection than she realized - now with nothing between his hand and her thin panties his every spank stung and stung to high heaven! Spank spank! spank spank! spank spank spank! spank spank spank!

''Owwwwooooooo? Oww? Ow, ow?'' In her mind lola questioned if Johnny really needed to spank her quite this completely.

Picking up on this, her man didn't hesitate. ''If you didn't want this spanking, my girl, you shouldn't have been wasting time,'' he decreed, his logic unassailable. Like she hadn't thought of that! ''You know what wasting time gets you - maybe next time you'll have an easier time deciding what you really want!''

''Grrrr,'' lola grrrr'd - quietly.

Spank spank spank spank spank spank spank! spank spank spank spank spank spank spank!

''Ow oh ow oh ow ow ow!''

From long experience Johnny knew just what he was doing. Half or more of his spanks landed where her panties had ridden up due to her unflattering position. Not only did they sting all the worse, they were those same low spots lola already knew she'd feel long afterward. How was she ever supposed to sit again?

Spank Ow Spank Ow Spank Ow Spank! On they went, like partners volleying on a tennis court - except that her soft bottom was no match for her man's hard hand, and in this match she was being soundly beaten! And the sounds of that beating were Spank Ow Spank Ow Spank Ow Spank!

''Oh oh please,'' she protested - a lot of these spanks should count as panties-down! Not that they would, and not that she thought otherwise for even a moment. Nonetheless lola felt that some sort of protest was called for. Spank spank spank - spank spank spank spank! spank! spank! spank! spank! spank! spank! spank! spank! Ooooo, Johnny knew just how to make her feel those! And lola's poor little bottom did - each and every one!

Then quickly a lot more protest was very much called for!

''Oh no - really - no, please, no. Please?'' Her man had stopped spanking long enough to pluck at the waistband of her panties - and she did not want them down! She grabbed them herself and held on tightly. ''Not those - they don't make a difference anyway,'' she claimed, fibbing slightly - though she was always surprised what a difference they did make. One by one, Johnny peeled her fingers from her purple checked panties. And then they were gone.

Spank! spank! Her creamy cheeks, only slightly colored by his gradual chastisement, were now fully under his hand - and eyes. Hold still! she told herself, wanting to minimize any jiggling or inappropriate exposure - try to hold still!

Spank! spank! Spank Spank! SPANK SPANK!

Maybe kicking and squirming was a better approach after all!

Spank! spank! Spank Spank! SPANK SPANK!

Suddenly he was in a hurry, a man with a mission. Now that he had her bare bottom in sight and squarely in his sights, he wanted it sore and stinging - both, a lot, and right now!

Spank spank spank spank spank spank spank spank spank spank spank spank!
Spank spank spank spank spank spank spank spank spank spank spank spank!
Spank spank spank spank spank spank spank spank spank spank spank spank!

Couldn't Johnny hear her at all? Nothing seemed to slow him down! Just as she thought her poor little bottom would burst into flames, her man's grip tightened! Her stomach followed suit as lola recognized the meaning of this gesture!

''Oh no! No! No! OW! OH!'' His spanks rained down so much harder without slowing down at all. Her kicking and struggles became furious, but the harder she fought, the harder he spanked!

Spank! Spank!

SPANK! SPANK!

Spank! Spank!

SPANK! SPANK!

''OW OH OH OH OW OH OH!'' she cried. When, oh when, would this be over? And then, with frightening abruptness, it was!

''Now, my girl, it's time we took care of this wasting time,'' Johnny pronounced.

Oh no! The belt - slap slap slap slap slap slap slap! By the time she realized what was about to happen her belt spanking was already well underway! Instantly the warmth of his hand was replaced by the sting of the belt's leather. Oooo, did that hurt! lola could never remember quite how much until she was feeling it - but as soon as she felt it she could remember - remember all too well!

slap slap slap slap slap slap slap!

''No, no - stop! Enough! I'll be good! I promise! Oh owwwwww...''

''lola lane! Your wasting time? This is most certainly NOT enough, except that it's enough out of you. Now hold still. You know you've earned this - and more. If you're good you'll get a lot less of the ''more.''''

slap slap slap slap slap slap slap!

Try as he might to be ''fair,'' when it came to wasting time her man was strict. That belt HURT!

slap slap slap slap slap slap slap!

''No, no, not more - please, not more. Ow oh ow oh ow...''

slap slap slap slap slap slap slap!

''No - no please! I'll be good! I've learned my lesson - I have!'' As well she may have - her usually creamy cheeks shone from the belt's harsh leather.

''Then hold still, little one, so I can finish.'' And finish he did. With a flurry of slap-slap-slap's he made sure she'd have no place to sit, not for a good long time. Then the hardest yet, right in the center - slap slap slap slap slap slap! Even as lola recognized these as his final spanks she could take no relief as the barrage drove her past all limits of ''taking it.''

''Whaaa - aaa - ow - oooo - ooo - ooo - ooo - NO!''

''Okay, lola. Okay, little one. Breathe. Now breathe...'' Johnny encouraged. As slowly as it had begun it just as suddenly ended. Slowly lola calmed down and her breathing did steady a bit.

''Now, young lady - no more wasting time - understood?'' Somehow lola nodded her acquiescence. And as she returned the belt to the toy chest, she never wanted to have anything to do with wasting time, the belt, or even her man sitting on a kitchen chair - ever, ever again!

--

Matt Anglen - 2004