Friday, 28 February 2014

Friday, February 28, 2014 -

The Party

by Rue Chapman
Published: Jan 03, 2014
Words: 22,708
Category: romance
Orientation: M/F
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The Party

Natalie squealed as David's hand slapped down hard on her wriggling bottom. Normally he enjoyed the view of her full cheeks jiggling over his knee, pale thighs kicking as he delivered a well-deserved spanking. But tonight there was no time to savour that pleasure, he needed to finish the job as briskly and efficiently as possible.

"Are you going to stop carrying on and get ready?" The steady beat of his hand punctuated his question.

Natalie's answer wasn't so clear, but her meaning was like crystal. She was definitely not feeling very compliant.

David sighed. Time for a shortcut to a more reasonable frame of mind. Luckily (or not, depending on your point of view) one wildly kicking foot had thrown off its slipper, which had landed conveniently close. David rolled his wife's white lace panties down to her knees, then pushed her pink robe further up out of the way. A good workman always prepares for the task.

The first slap of the slipper was a stinging whack that set Natalie wriggling even more wildly, her bright red hair bouncing in a cloud around her head. David didn't bother with more discussion, he just concentrated on painting a fiery red glow across her bottom cheeks. If she couldn't sit comfortably tonight, that might remind her to behave - at least, that was his theory. Sadly, theory and reality often don't coincide, but a man can hope.

Natalie squealed and kicked, she shouted, she wriggled and squirmed. She was in every way a young lady receiving a good, thorough spanking.

In every way but one. A good spanking ends with a red hot bottom and a slightly tearful, very sorry young lady who promises to behave properly forever. And usually, after a good spanking, that would be Natalie. But not tonight. Tonight she yelled, she shrieked, she raged - and the word 'sorry', the promise of being good forever, wasn't heard.

But all good things must come to an end. And Natalie's end was a cheerful crimson that promised a good reminder whenever she tried to sit down, for a day or so at least. Her wails were more miserable, and less hostile, which David knew was the best he could hope for in the time available. So at last the slipper stopped doing the dance of the fiery sting all over her bottom. David leaned back, taking a well-earned rest.

"Now, you will get dressed, and you will be ready to leave this house with me in twenty minutes, and you will behave yourself at the party tonight. Is that clear?" Wisely he didn't wait for an answer, he stood up - dumping his bundle of resentment onto the carpet - and strode manfully out of the room, "Twenty minutes. Or I'll blister your sweet bottom every night for a week. Get moving."

Natalie glared at his departing back. She'd have thrown something at him, but just at that moment her hands were too busy trying to rub the fierce sting away.