Friday, April 23, 2010

The Girl In The Window


"Out," Ms. Garrett said, pointing at the door and staring at me.

A hushed silence fell over the classroom. Feeling the eyes of my classmates boring into me, I closed my textbook and slipped it off the desk, into my waiting book bag. My knees wobbled under the weight of my peer's scrutiny as I rose from my front row desk. I walked with a nervous, anticipatory stomach toward the door. Ms. Garrett's gaze remained stern and her finger continued to point the way, while everyone else sat watching and wondering.

I stepped out into the empty hallway and listened to solid clunk of the closing door. Anxiously, I walked the vacant corridor toward the office at the end. It felt like freedom, walking alone in the hallways normally crowded with students scrambling to their respective classes. I had never walked them during classes before, never listened to the echo of my heels against the locker lined walls.

My hand rested on the cold brass of the door handle leading into the administrative office. I took a deep breath and steeled myself against the fear building like a lump in my throat. It was too late for second thoughts. I pulled the door open and walked inside, keeping my eyes downcast as I approached the assistant's desk. She clunked her phone down into its cradle and turned her attention to me. I caught a flash of shock on her face before her usual emotionless facade restored itself.

I swallowed my lump and said, "Ms. Garrett sent me."

She looked me up and down before saying, "I'll let him know. Stand over there and face the wall."

I followed her finger to the wall across the office and bit at my lip. It was no surprise I would have to wait, but I had not expected to do so in such an embarrassing fashion. I swallowed again and walked as slowly as I could to the wall. In my imagination, hordes of my classmates came through the office at the very moment I reached the wall. They pointed and snickered while murmuring about the deeds I had undoubtedly done. None of them felt even the slightest twinge of sympathy for me. I deserved my fate, had escaped for far too long and now, finally, justice was upon me. Fortunately, my imagination is far more fertile than reality.

The wait seemed eternally long. I stared at the texture on the wall finding dragons, dogs, giraffes, elephants, and lions until it all blurred into white nothingness. The office staff continue about their business as if I were not in the room. They whispered amongst each other and although it was tempting to think their quiet words were about me, it was obvious they were not. Nobody cared, nobody except me.

"Mr. Pinkert will see you now," The assistant said, loud enough I knew she was talking to me.

I hesitated a moment, gathering my wits once more. Butterflies swirled in my stomach like dogfighting jets. My knees went weak, but I found the courage to put one foot in front of the other and made my way across the office to his closed door. The assistant nodded for me to knock and I raised my trembling hand to comply. The wood felt hard against my knuckles and the knock echoed like a sonic boom in my ears.

"Come in," Mr. Pinkert said from behind the door.

I stepped inside just enough to allow the door to close behind me. Mr. Pinkert sat behind his desk, his hands folded together and resting on the desktop. Underneath his hands, a small pink note awaited his attention. No doubt it was from Ms. Garrett about me. Admittedly, I was curious as to what she had written, but not enough to ask him. I felt tiny standing before him. The stern frown on his face set my heart to a pounding pace.

"Over here, girl," He said, pointing to a spot directly in front of his desk.

My legs carried me forward without my conscious cooperation. His voice boomed in my ears, leaving me lightheaded and scared. It had all seemed like a good idea in the beginning, but now, it was feeling like a mistake. I bit my tongue to avoid rambling nonsensical explanations. My eyes rose to the open window behind him. The empty courtyard outside taunted me, trapped as I was behind closed doors.

"If I'm not mistaken, this is your first trip to my office," He said.

"Yes," I replied, shifting my gaze down to his desktop.

"I aim to make it your last. If you had any illusions I might go easy on you, put them out of your head now," He said, pushing off his desk and standing up.

I chewed on my lip, uncertain if I was expected to respond or remain quiet. He opened a desk drawer and pulled out a small leather strap. The drawer slammed closed, making me jump at the unexpected sound. He smiled as if my nervous response pleased him. I watched him as he walked around his desk, coming to stand behind me where I could no longer see him.

"Do you have anything to say for yourself before I spank your naughty bottom?" He asked.

I swallowed and said, "Just that I'm sorry. I know it won't make any difference, but I want you to know I'm sorry and I know I deserve this."

He said, "Well then, why don't we get this over with. Bend over the desk, grab the far edge and stay down, unless you want extras."

I sucked in air puffing out my chest and closing my eyes. The moment at hand, I was no longer certain this had been a good idea at all. Still, the choice had long been made and the time to turn back was long gone. I leaned forward, carefully supporting my weight on his desk until my upper body was laying flat against it, my hands grasping the far, unseen edge. My leg jumped at the faint brush of his against my tender thigh and my eyes shot open in barely contained panic. He chuckled, amused at my reaction to his touch and without further warning his fingers swept underneath the hem of my skirt and flipped it up on my back. I swallowed fear by the gallon, unable to think of anything more pertinent than the gaze of his eyes upon my exposed bottom.

My reflection stared back at me from the window behind his desk. I could see him as well, arm raised high above me with a limp leather strap hanging from his hand. The ticking of the clock on his wall pounded like a drum in my ears. My skin prickled from light breeze of air conditioning over my body. I focused on the girl in the window, the fear and the commitment in her eyes. There was strength to be found and I grasped it, holding tight to the edge and waiting for the fall of the strap, the pain it would bring.

The dull clap of the leather against my protruding bottom belied the true force of the swat. I blinked as the sting twitched my buttocks and legs. In the glass his lips curled at the edges in the kind of smile men have when they are more satisfied than happy. My body returned to stillness. The sting of the first stroke passed from pain to warmth.

He laid on another stroke, striking perfectly below the first. I gasped in response to the new sensation of sting. My legs shuddered once more for his enjoyment and my bottom bounced. Holding me head up, I stared at the girl in the glass. I admired her composure, her strength, her acceptance. All the doubts I had harbored for so long slipped away. The choice was right and the consequences just. I refrained from smiling lest he realize the game being played and change the rules. Ms. Garret was right, sometimes even a good girl needs a spanking.

Friday, April 16, 2010

Shopping In The Red


"It's called lingerie," I said, hands planted firmly on my hips.

"It's called a waste of money," He said, glaring up at me from the couch.

"That's your opinion," I said.

"It's also my money, which means my opinion is the only one that matters," He said.

I huffed and said, "Don't you ever get tired of that line?""

"No, what I get tired of is your attitude," He replied.

"I'm only reflecting yours," I said, tossing my hair and crooking my head at him.

He snapped his fingers and said, "You better watch your mouth, young lady. You're in enough trouble."

"Would you rather I forego underwear altogether?" I asked, shaking my head.

"Keep it up and you'll forego it for a trip over my knee," He said.

"You can't be serious. It was just a couple hundred dollars," I said, taking a step back.

"I gave you the credit card for emergencies," He said scooting to the front edge of the cushion, "not to go on shopping sprees when you got bored."

"That's not fair," I said.

"That I didn't give it to you for shopping sprees or that I think you went on one?" He asked.

I rolled my eyes to the ceiling and beyond. He was impossible to deal with when he got in these moods. My lips pouted and I tossed my hair again, allowing it to bounce against my frustrated cheeks. What was done, was done and I could only apologize, but if I did he would assume that meant he was right. No way was I going to give him the satisfaction.

"Nice," He said, "you want to roll your eyes and ignore me? Let me remind you I know how to get your attention, young lady. Get that skirt off and get over my knee."

"As if!" I said, huffing.

"You don't want me to get up and do it for you," He said.

"You wouldn't," I said, eyes growing wide at the seriousness on his face.

He started to rise up off the couch and I said, "Alright. Alright. Geez, I'll take the stuff back if it's such a problem."

He took a half step toward me and grabbed my wrist pulling me to him. His free hand snaked around behind me and slapped the seat of my skirt three times with enough force to sting. I yelped and he said, "Yes, you will take those things back, but not before you've gotten the spanking you deserve."

"I'm too old for a spanking," I said, as if the declaration would matter to an ogre like him.

"You're too old when I say you're too old and judging by your behavior, that won't be for a very, very long time," He said, smacking my bottom a few more times to prove his point.

I tried to pull away, but his grip was like a vise on my arm. He wagged his finger in front of my nose, making me dizzy and said, "Now you're going to get that skirt off and might as well lose the blouse too, since you want to argue with me. If the next words out of your mouth aren't 'yes, sir' you can expect matters to get much worse."

My lips trembled, wanting to spew out anything, but the words he wanted to hear. I clenched and unclenched my fist and glared into his unblinking eyes. He was silently daring me to test him, almost eager to prove to me he was serious and in control. I swallowed a bit of pride and a lot more anger and said, "Yes, sir," as stiffly as I could manage. It's amazing how close it sounded to, "Go to hell," in my ears.

Staring down, so I didn't have to look at his smug face, I yanked the buttons of my blouse open one at a time. When the last button tore free and I shrugged the top from my shoulders and threw it at him, laughing when it landed as a cloak over his head. He tossed it across the room without a word while I fumbled with the waist of my skirt. Once free, I let it fall down my legs and then kicked it up in the air, narrowly avoiding kicking him in the shin. He snatched the skirt out of the air and sent it sailing to join my blouse.

I parked my hands on my hips again and asked, "Happy?"

He grabbed hold of my arm again and drag me back to the couch with him. Sitting down, he tossed me over his lap and laid his hand to rest on my panties, while I got a closeup view of the couch. He patted my tense bottom and said, "The day is starting to look up."

I gasped at the striking force of his hand against my backside. Clearly, he intended me to know he was serious about spanking. The speed at which his hand raised and fell, slapping my bottom into a stingy frenzy was almost certainly blurring. I cursed beneath my breath and prayed his hand burned and stung every bit as much as my bottom and maybe a little bit more. It would serve him right. Then again, life isn't fair and justice is blind and stupid.

I kicked and squirmed as his hand continued to spank. I kneed his leg and hoped for a bruise. He kept his rate steady and his spanks solid without any reaction though. Eventually tears stung at my eyes, but I refused to let them fall. I blinked them back with every smarting blow of his hand. Finally, he stopped and rested his hand on my panties, enjoying the warmth I'm sure.

"We'd be finished now, if you hadn't decided to throw all that attitude around," He said.

"You're the one with the attitude problem," I said. It sounded ridiculous, but it felt good to accuse him of something, anything.

He clucked his tongue at me and slipped his hand beneath the waistband, yanking my panties down, off my bottom. The coolness of his hand tickled against the heat of my bottom. I squirmed, embarrassed at the thought of what he could see and touch. His hand slapped against my bottom with a loud clap echoing off the walls and ceiling. Every one of my neighbors would be left without any doubt as to the happenings inside my apartment.

"Stop it," I begged.

He spanked me with the same regularity and rhythm of before. His hand seemed to be bouncing off my bottom faster than my wobbly flesh could bounce back. I began yelping with each smack, and wriggling to get free. My efforts were wasted. His hand never missed its mark and my bottom danced to his tune. The once held tears, slipped from eyes and dampened my cheeks. I blushed, embarrassed by my failure to withstand the childish punishment without reaction.

The last spank fell and he lifted me up off his lap. My panties had slid the length of my legs and been kicked across the room. I shook my head and bit my lip at the humiliating position I had left myself in. He stood in front of me, a light smile of satisfaction evident on his lips. I stared at the floor and tried to comfort my burning bottom with a gentle rub.

"Are you going to behave yourself now?" He asked.

I looked up at him with a mischievous smile and said, "Probably not."