Thursday, January 22, 2015

Flash Fuction

Craig found photos for this post and we both wrote stories. Lizzie's story is more the beginning of a story - the introduction and set up to let your imagination complete.

"Where have you been?" he asked. He sat on the sofa, a book in his hand, smoking a cigar. A thin trail of grey listlessly haloed around his head. His eyes weren't listless at all--they glared at her as she dropped her backpack to the entry table.

"I...I'm late," she stammered.

"I believe that's painfully apparent." He looked at his watch. "It's six o'clock. You said you'd be back by five...and not a text or a call."

"I lost track of time," she said sheepishly, her feet edging together into a sort of pigeon-toed look that she knew he found appealing in a little girl kind of way. He ignored her subtle attempt to woo him from his fervor.

He stood up, setting both the book and the cigar down, and walked over to her, grabbing a handful of her hair and pulling her down the hall toward the bedroom. "But...!"
“Have you ever heard, ‘I’ll spank you until you can’t sit for a week’?” He whispered as he pulled her into an embrace from behind.

She let her pajamas fall from her hand, sinking back into him. She loved the feel of her bare skin on him. She sighed and closed her eyes, allowing the sensation to overcome her for a moment.

His hands slid up her sides and cupped her breasts, lifting them. She moaned and arched her back, pressing her breasts into his hands.

“Sure,” she sighed, “But with my butt?”

He chuckled, a low sound in her ear. When he spoke, his tone held laughter as well as a subtle threat, “I don’t suppose I’d manage it with just one spanking. But several?”

“Mmmm?” She infused the sound with question and request.
"Get undressed," he ordered, opening a chest and pulling a select few implements from it. This was not to be a fun scene, this was a punishment. She could tell from the choices he made: the metal paddle, the wood cane that left welts and sometimes broke skin, the leather glove.

She was soon out of her clothes. He grabbed her roughly again and shoved her on the bed, face down. Without preamble, he set about the punishment. First, he donned the glove, a black leather biker glove he wore because it wasn't something his dear little masochist liked. Thuddy "in a bad way" she once said.

"You are to check in!" he barked huskily as he spanked her hard without warm up. "You are to ask if you can be late!" Her bottom grew redder and redder until she was crying into the pillow.

He switched to the wood cane, pulling off the glove and swatting her bottom, leaving the telltale welts this particular cane always delivered. She began to cry harder, but she screamed when he caned the back of her legs between her sweet spot and her knees. Those welts came up thicker and faster than her bottom, the skin much more tender.

It wasn't long before he pulled the metal paddle. The first stroke of the paddle fell across both her cheeks and she cried out in an entirely new way. "No! Please! Not the metal! I'm sorry! I'm so sorry!" He only gave her three more swats, partially because he knew how much she hated that dreaded implement and partially because he knew the pain it inflicted. A little went a long way.

"Shhhhh." He cuddled her. "It's okay. You're forgiven. But you need to tell me." She cried and cried, her body shaking from the sobs.

"I'm sorry. I meant to text. I just lost track of time."

"Hold still," he said. He pulled his phone from his pocket and snapped a couple of photos of her still form on the bed.

"What are those for?" she asked through her sniffles.

"I'm going to print them out and put them on the bathroom mirror. Then before you leave you'll see them and remember what happens if you don't text."
“I’ll start with a hundreds scene,” he paused, letting the offer sink in, “And more, this weekend.” He tilted his head down to brush his lips against her neck. After stealing a few kisses, he continued, “Two days dedicated to the task should make a good start.”

He tipped his head in the other direction, kissing the other side of her neck while the finality of his decision hung in the air. After a possessive bite, he finished, “Just to make sure, you’ll bring me the cane every morning and the paddle every night. A week.”

Her body squirmed against his. They both knew she was thrilled by this idea, but a bit scared as well.

“That’s what we shall do, then.” He promised.


  1. Well done. Very entertaining.

    1. Hey, Spankingly Good Time! Sorry--I was traveling when you posted your comment and somehow completely missed it. Thank you! And thanks for commenting!