2011/01/11

Late (Spanking Fiction - Part 1)

The walls were cool underneath her palms and splayed fingers. She could see the fine cracks in the paint, a small flick of a different hue in the white where the plaster was not smoothed over properly. Her legs had started aching from being in one position, and she tries to shift her balance slowly from one leg to the other without attracting attention to herself. There was absolute silence in the room, except the tick of the wall clock relentlessly counting down the seconds. She has not been in the corner for more than five minutes, but it is already feeling like a lifetime. He is in the room, somewhere behind her,  and she knows that he is contemplating her punishment, leaving her fully dressed for the moment, trying to get his anger under control.


It was suppose to be a quick coffee after work with some friends, but the sound of conversations, laughter and music playing, seduced her into carefree nonchalance. Time was of no relevance, her cell phone forgotten where it was buried deep in the recesses of her bag. She had thought of a thousand excuses on her way home, her stomach churning with dread, and her legs weak underneath her. Words died on her lips when he jerked the door open, and a glance at his face sent shivers down her spine. His hand closed around her arm, pulling her into the house, his voice barely controlled in its fury. “Three hours! For three hours, I did not know where you were, whether you were in trouble or in an accident. I phoned your work, I tried to get hold of you on your cell phone, but no-one knew where you were!”


He had marched her straight to their bedroom, pushed her into the corner, and placed her hands hard and high against the walls beside her head. She knew from bitter experience, that to move or fidget or even to attempt to talk at that moment would make things worse. Closing her eyes, she counts the seconds, waiting,  when she suddenly feels his hands on her back. Barely managing not to flinch, she swallows nervously as his fingers deftly unzip her skirt. He pushes her skirt over her hips, letting it fall gently to the floor where it pooled around her ankles. “Where were you?” Her breathing became shallow, and she tries to lick her dry lips, whispering, “Coffee...I went for coffee. I am sorry, I should have phoned, I forgot about the time, I am so sorry...”


He runs his hands over the thin lace panties, giving a dry chuckle when he feels the involuntarily clenching of her bottom. She feels goose bumps breaking out all over her body as her muscles contract and releases in fear and anticipation. Heat and moisture spreads between her legs, and she feels her scalp tingling with tiny prickly shivers running down her back. Although she is desperately trying to control her reactions, her bottom pushes slightly against his hand, sensitive, feeling the light friction between lace, skin and the heat of his hand. His hands cup and lightly squeezes her bottom, then pulls down the flimsy lace, slowly, exposing her, with his voice hard next to her ear “Don’t worry sweetie, you are going to be sorry, you are going to be very, very sorry”  

2 comments:

Brett B said...

I can relate to this story in more ways than one. I'm eager to read the next part.

Raven Red said...

Brett..coming soon!!

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Raven Red by Raven Red is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-NoDerivs 3.0 Unported License.