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."

Payback

"Get 'em down," He said, closing the front door behind him.

From the couch, I blinked at him. "But—

"Now," He said, opening the closet door.

I stumbled to my feet, mind racing. It had been a quiet day, not the usual sort to land me in a spot of trouble. My fingers felt cold and numb as they fumbled with the button and zipper holding my bluejeans in place. The noise of the television turned from entertainment to distraction. I watched him pick through the closet, remove the wide strap and close the door.

He turned to me, his eyes scanning me from head to toe, pausing in emphasis at my waist before leading down to my ankles. I hesitated with my thumbs hooked into the waistband on my sides. The warm glow of embarrassment graced my cheeks under his daunting gaze. I swallowed pride and forced the nervous muscles in my arms to comply, raking my jeans and panties down my legs until they rested around my ankles. Straightening back up, I found a spot on the floor between us and stared. I forced my twitching hands to rest at my sides, exposing me to his gaze.

"Over to the table," He said.

I bit at my lower lip. The table loomed ominously across the room, almost as if it were laughing at me. I shuffled toward it, my feet shackled by jeans and underwear. My eyes flickered to him, looking for some clue as to the reason for my shameful walk. He kept it hidden, his stern face a mask only softened by the slight amusement gleamed from my shuffled walk. I might have smiled.

When I reached the table, he said, "Over."

I looked back at him, pleading for an explanation with big eyes and fluttering lashes. He pointed at the far side of the table. I turned back to the table, sucking in air and courage. My lips trembled with the questions plaguing my mind. I kept quiet, not a whimper escaping and bent at the waist, reaching for the table's furthest edge. My fingers wrapped around the cold smoothness of the glass top and I waited.

He stepped closer, draping the wide strip of leather on my naked bottom. My legs twitched at the touch. I closed my eyes, bracing for the inevitable conclusion. He raised the strap only to bring it back again with same teasing gentleness with which he began. I knew it would not last. If only I knew why, it would be so much easier to accept.

A jerk of his arm and flick of his wrist ended all the pleasantries. The strap snapped against my quivering bottom, sending waves of force rolling through my body. I gasped at the suddenness. My eyes flickered open and shut, weathering the beginning sting and the tingle of warmth emanating from my bottom. He pulled the strap away to linger in the unseen space behind me.

"I'm disappointed," He said, lashing the strap down on my bottom as if in demonstration of his feelings.

"I'm sorry," I said, blinking back tears caused by the sting of his actions.

"Are you now?" He asked, connecting the strap with my bottom like the physical representation of the question mark in his tone.

"Yes," I said, wriggling my burning bottom. The cause of my sorrow remained a mystery, but there was no doubt about its existence.

"What were you thinking?" He asked, the strap whipping the question into my very soul.

"I don't know," I said amidst tears of global remorse.

"You don't even know what I'm talking about, do you?" He said, punctuating every syllable with a snap of the strap against my naked bottom.

I held tight to the table. Tears spilled from my cheeks onto the glass. My legs kicked. My bottom squirmed. There was no escape from the strap or its effects. The burning built atop itself with no respite and the sting, coursed its way through my body, leaving my every extremity tingling. I cried out with every lash.

"You're lucky, Mr. Wicker is a friend," He said, swinging the strap twice more.

The connections sparked together. I had been caught. I should have known from the start. Mr. Wicker was my boss. He owned a small bookshop on the corner of Main Street. It was not the most popular place in town, but he keeps a unique collection of rare editions which sell quite well amongst collectors of such things. They often arrive from far off places with bundles of cash, willing to pay much more for the books of their desire than Mr. Wicker asks. It was wrong, I suppose, to have tricked the young man today. He knew no better, so it seemed the extra hundred dollars would be better valued in my hands than his.

"Remembering now, are we?" He said, the strap eliciting every detail of the memory.

"I'm sorry," I said, with renewed conviction.

"I bet you are, now," He said. "Anyone else might have just called the police."

"I'll give it back," I said, wiping tears from my eyes on my arm.

He lashed the strap down on my bottom and said, "You certainly will."

"It was stupid," I said and he swung the strap, hard.

"Yes, very much so and you'll pay for the stupidity," He said.

"Yes, sir," I replied, knowing my agreement mattered little in the scheme of things to come.

"I'm going to give you ten more now and when I'm done, you are going to sit down, on your bare, sore backside, and you are going to write a very lengthy and apologetic letter to Mr. Wicker and then another to young man you swindled. Understood?"

"Yes, sir,"I said.

"And when you're all done and I'm satisfied you've done a good job we're going to go see Mr. Wicker and this young man and you are going to return the money you stole, apologize to them both and personally deliver these letters. Afterward, if they are at all inclined, you will tell them exactly how you've been punished and show them your big, red backside. Is that understood?"

"Yes, sir," I said, blushing at the mere prospect.

He whipped the strap through the air allowing it to crash against my already tenderized bottom, ten more times. I pushed myself up from the table, gratified it was over even though it was not. Carefully sitting down at the table, I picked up the pen and brought it down against the blank paper he gave me. His eyes held no compassion for me. I blinked back tears and began to write, but the only thought on my mind was the burning in my bottom and the shame of what I had done.

Tears Of Consequence

I almost made it. My fingers were wrapped around the brass knob leading to the outside world, to freedom. I had tiptoed down the stairs and across the tile entry floor. Every movement was carefully planned to avoid detection from my bedroom all the way to the front door. No one should have heard or even known, but there he was standing behind me.

"And just where do you think you are going?" He asked.

I suppressed a shudder, turning around to face him. Masking surprise with innocence, I said, "Out."

He raised an eyebrow. I tried not to laugh. He said, "Aren't you forgetting something?"

I looked to the ceiling, pretending to ponder the question. My eyes floated from the left to the right and back to the left again. He stood there, tapping his foot. I said, "No, nothing I can think of."

"I'm not amused," He said and I replied, "Good, cause I'm not a clown."

"With all that makeup, I wasn't sure," He said.

"Who's the comedian?" I asked.

"The only thing funny here is you thinking you could walk out the front door without me noticing," He said.

"Maybe I didn't care if you did," I said, resting my hands on my hips.

"That's why you were tiptoeing," He said.

"Whatever," I said. "I'm going out."

"No, you're not," He said, stepping a little closer. "In case you've forgotten, you're grounded."

I said, "In case you've forgotten, I'm an adult now. I can do what I want."

"You may be old enough to drive, vote and drink, but so long as you need to verbally affirm your status as an adult for others to realize it, you are not an adult," He said and pointed up the stairs behind him. "Now you can go back up to your room and think about why your behavior continues to disprove the theory that you're an adult."

I said, "You can't make me."

He shook his head at me and said, "That's your argument; I can't make you? You're absolutely right, I can't make you do anything. So go ahead, walk out the door and pretend you've done nothing wrong. I am the ogre after all. How dare I expect you to suffer any consequences for your actions? Is that how you think?"

"I didn't say that," I said, looking at the floor because I could no longer look him in the eyes. "I just want to go out."

"And I'd like to be a billionaire," He said. "Unfortunately, to get the things we want in life requires hard work and sacrifice. Sure, there are shortcuts. You could walk out the door, I could rob a bank, but there are consequences for those kind of choices and while you might like the short term satisfaction, I promise you, the long term results aren't worth it."

"Nobody is going to throw me in prison for walking out the door," I said.

"Hopefully not, " He said, "but you will have disappointed me. I've raised you to have better character than this, to have better respect for yourself and for me. If you walk out that door, I'll know I failed to teach you the most important lessons about life."

I looked at the door and closed my eyes. "Fine," I said, turning back to him and throwing my hands up in the air, "if it's such a big deal to you, I'll stay home."

"I give up, " He said, turning and walking away, "Do what you want. I'm sick of your attitude."

"Bastard," I said under my breath, watching him walk.

He spun back around and said, "What did you say?"

"Nothing," I said.

"I don't think so," He said, walking back to me.

"Like you even care," I said and started back up the stairs.

He grabbed my arm stopping me in my tracks. "I've got half a mind to put you over my knee," He said.

"You wouldn't dare," I said, glaring back at him and trying to pull free from his grip.

"A good spanking is just what a brat like you needs," He said, pulling me back down the stairs and dragging me toward the living room.

Tugging against him in a futile effort to escape, I said, "I'll scream."

He chuckled and said, "Go ahead, I expect you'll do a bit more than scream before I'm done."

"You can't," I said.

"I can," He said, sitting on the couch and pulling me down onto his lap, "and I will."

My face buried in a cushion, I kicked and squirmed as his hand began bouncing off my jeans. It did not really hurt and if I had not been outraged, I might have laughed. The slap of his open palm against my denim protected bottom gave truth to the old adage of it hurting him more than me. Still, I protested saying, "Stop it," over and over.

"I'll stop when you've got what you deserve and not a moment earlier," He said, pausing the spanking and resting his hand on my jeans, "Now I think its time we had these down."

A tug on the waist of my jeans shot my eyes wide open as his intentions were made crystal clear. I twisted on his lap, reaching back and grabbing at my jeans in a desperate attempt to foil his evil plans. He laughed at me and pushed my hand away toward the small of my back. In frustration, I kicked my legs while I stared at the cushion, shocked he could be so cruel. His efforts were slowed by mine, but in the end my jeans were tugged below my bottom, exposing my adult underwear to his view and consequently, the bare globes of my bottom.

"That's better," He said, his free hand resuming the spanking with more enthusiasm than before. This time, every slap left a sting I could feel all the way to my eyes. I kicked and squirmed, pounded the cushion with my fist, but it was all in vain. Better, is not how I would describe the situation at all.

"I'll be good," I said and he replied, "I've heard that before."

"I promise," I said and he replied, "You'll actually mean it before I'm through."

My eyes filled with teardrops. His hand whisked through the air. The walls echoed with the sounds of my spanking. My bottom burned with the heat of shame. Tears rolled down my cheeks and in their glistening drops I saw myself. Such a bad girl, such a naughty girl, getting exactly what she deserves.

I Don't Care

You are so smug in your self-righteous condemnation, you actually think I deserve this. Or, maybe you think it's amusing. Is that laughter in your eyes? Go ahead and laugh. See if I care. Enjoy it all while you can. Savor every moment of your pitiful victory. Rejoice in my pain and humiliation before you. It won't change a thing.

OUCH!

Damn, that thing hurts and it's all your fault.

Were you pleased when I was sentenced to a spanking in your presence? Did you smile behind my back as I lowered my jeans and panties? Was it difficult to contain yourself when I bent over the back of the couch? Do you feel better with each loud pop of the paddle against my rear? Is it just and fair in your eyes or do you not care?

OW! OW! OW!

I don't care. That's right, I-DON'T-CARE! He can swing that paddle all day long and I'm still not going to apologize to the likes of you. I said what I said and I meant it. If you don't like it, guess what? I don't care. You think my situation justifies your opinion but, all it really does is prove who has the power and who doesn't. That's right, I'm the victim and you are nothing more than a victimizer. If only you could hear me think, you'd know it too.

YOW! Oh. OUCH!

That really, really, hurts!

I know, I know, you don't care. Well neither do I. I don't care how hot it burns or how red it glows, I'm not going to apologize. I'm not sorry and I'm not going to say that I am no matter how long this drags on. You can sit there with that look of disapproving approval on your face all you like, but it won't change anything. I was right and I'm not backing down. There are principles you know and I for one, stand by mine. Okay, maybe I'm not exactly standing, but that's not the point.

Ooh! Oh. OW!

Does he really have to swing that hard? I mean if he keeps going like that we're going to find out which is more resilient, the paddle or my butt. You'd bet on the paddle I'm sure, but I'm stronger than you think. I'm not going to let a little discomfort sway me from my convictions. Just because he took your side doesn't make me wrong. You twisted everything in your typical conniving way and even if he doesn't know it, I do. You aren't going to beat me!

OW! Oh. OW! OW! YOW!

Maybe that was a poor choice of words. Technically, you aren't beating me, he is, but your point is duly noted. Still, this is a battle you will not win. This tear on my cheek is not a sign of defeat or surrender. It is a badge of my courage and strength of will. Soon, I will be jumping up and down in victory. Oh, you might think it's for another reason, but then I've always been smarter and more devious than you.

Ooh.

It looks like he is done. Done with me that is. What's the matter? You don't look so pleased now. Yes, yes I heard what he said. Time for me to get up. You aren't going to cry are you? Just because the tables are soon to turn doesn't mean you've lost, does it? Well, for me it does. I shall enjoy every minute of your humiliating spanking as you've enjoyed mine. Almost that is. I don't think I'm going to be sitting while I watch, but that's such a small insignificant detail. Don't you agree?

The Viewing Of Me

Look at them, looking at me

In neat little rows, my classmates you see

Dutifully diligent, their heads well raised

Backs rigidly straight, hands folded not lazed

In disdain or amusement, anticipating they stare

I laugh in silence amidst their glare

The aisles he walks, his back to me

Mr. Strict is the name, I gave him with glee

Clacking and clattering, his yardstick is waved

From desktop to desktop, not a one is saved

With the whipping stick's swish, my classmates he scares

Alone I await what wicked fates he dares

Strict he is, but what did I do?

"Nothing," I say. "Something," Says you.

Hands on my head, before all who would peer

For the sake of nothingness, one is not here

Consider my choices and the chances I take

Can you safely assume there has been a mistake?

Could it be gum, I left on the floor?

Stuck to his shoe, Strict would roar

Or perhaps it was his lecture I did disrupt

Were my insights untrue and unduly abrupt?

Am I a victim, the object of vengeance so undeserved?

Or do you believe, justice is here and soon to be served?

Horns or a halo, what do you say?

Proof my hands hide, each and every way

In shadows of darkness I so easily conceal

Wings of feather or a fiendish tail's zeal

Truth is mine and it I will keep

Say what you will, but I am in too deep

The reasons of why matter not at all

I am here for a point and it is not to stall

Smiling through this frown is not a disguise

It is only the view seen through your eyes

But be it laughter or tears soon to be heard

I promise you this, I will have the last word

The moment approaches and so does he

His eyes are fixed and staring at me

With flicks of his wrist, the yardstick still waves

A response I could give, yet my finger behaves

Containing excitement, I hold this pose

Near as he comes, my eyes do not close

Options he has and he considers them well

Every tool of his trade has a story to tell

A choice in paddles, leather or wood

Solid or holed, he knows they are good

Straps seem benign until they are swung

Notice you will take if they have a split tongue

The time is now, there is nowhere to flee

Will he bend me in half over his knee?

Over a desk, he could force me to lay

My skirt is too short, will he take it away?

Bottoms are bared, this truth I know

Will you watch my cheeks as they begin to glow?

Strict he is and strict is his game

Even upside down it is all the same

His strokes fall fast and even in spread

This bottom and face must certainly be red

My top slips up with nothing left to conceal

Your wandering eyes have sealed the deal

This naughty one knows, this naughty one sees

As bad as I am, no one disagrees

We all are aware in this I am bold

The silence I keep, I have never told

But you are the ones bad to the bone

And yes this truth, I have always known