***Copyright. 1997 by asparkle2@aol.com now asparkle2@yahoo.com ***
This piece of fiction has not been previously available publicly.


She wiped the tears that remained on her cheeks away with the back of her hand.

“Shhh…” Conrad murmured, holding her head against his shoulder. “It’s all right, little one.”

A hiccup. Then another. Her hands found their way around him. One accepted his weight above it and the softness of the mattress below it. The other stroked the hair-roughened skin around his navel, then moved to explore the sensitive underside of his belly. Finally, the hand smoothed its way to rest on the side of his far hip.

“Are you going to be okay?” he asked softly, hugging her waist with one hand and stroking her hair with the other.

“Yes,” she breathed, sighing as she snuggled against him.

“Do you want to tell me about it?” His voice was considerate, gentle, purposely non-threatening now.

She felt warmed, comforted by his interest. “I guess,” she whispered. “I didn’t really know what to expect,” she began, “But, But it hurt — more than I thought it would.”

He said nothing, just hugged her close. She welcomed the calm, persistent warmth of his lungs expanding and contracting beneath her heavy breasts.

“At first it wasn’t too bad,” she eventually continued. “My jeans were still on, and I almost laughed at the swats. They weren’t very hard — more like pats than real swats.”

Conrad kissed the crown of her hair, wanting to somehow show his high regard for her devotion but not yet having the appropriate inspiration.

She laid against him, treasuring the attention he heaped upon her. “Then, well then I had to stand up. I felt the jeans sliding down my legs, past my knees. It was almost like it was happening to someone else, not to me. I couldn’t think.” Memories swirled in fuzzy clouds through her mind. She saw the scene unfolding from afar, as if it were a film, not reality.

Confusion touched her and she stiffened in Conrad’s arms, not relaxing until he rubbed one hand over her knee and stroked her spine with the other.

“Your knees… I felt myself lying over them again. The hair there scratched my one thigh and the hem of your shorts rubbed against the other. Usually I don’t notice little things like this, but this time was different.”

She was quiet now, her voice audible and calm, her emotions under control. “And then it started again. Harder. Still not as stingy as your hand is when my panties are off. But you kept spanking and spanking … it seemed like it was much longer than most handspankings. I felt it deeper. It wasn’t just surface burning. It was … sore. The skin burned, but it was deeper than that. Beneath the skin. Almost … almost like my bottom feels when I’ve ridden my bike too much. I – I have trouble describing it.”

Her voice broke near the end as she recalled the event.

Conrad said nothing, just held her close, continuing to soothe her. “I … I didn’t know to expect this time. I mean, it wasn’t like any spanking you’d ever given me before. It was … almost like, like you weren’t the same person you were before. I was already crying when you tucked your hands inside my panties and pulled them down. You know I never cried during spankings. But – but this was different. It ached differently, yes, but I think –” she stopped, swallowing as her mind sought the correct words. “But I felt different inside, too. It wasn’t erotic for me this time. Not just because it was harder, but also because … because of the reason you were spanking me. It wasn’t exactly my everyday bedtime spanking,” she finished dryly.

Conrad smiled into her hair and whispered for her to continue when she seemed to lapse into a contemplative silence.

“The spanking started again, this time with my panties twisted around my knees. I was crying, but I controlled it – I didn’t want to feel guilty. I know you wanted to make a point — your hand was still harder than it usually is. So it shouldn’t have surprised me when … when you switched to the paddle.”

She stopped then, asking for a drink of water. He let her up from his side, watching her closely as she slowly made her way toward the bathroom. Her bottom did not swing quite as naturally as he was accustomed to seeing, but a satisfying dull red hue accompanied her stiff gait.

She disappeared for a few moments. Conrad waited momentarily, then called for her to bring a cold washcloth back to bed when she came. She handed it to him as she settled against his body. His arms relaxed around her, and he arranged the cool rag across her fanny, rubbing the terrycloth against her sore skin – at once inflaming and soothing it.

“Do you want to continue?” he asked softly.

She nodded, but closed her eyes in sleepy comfort against his body. “The paddle … it was such a shock. It hurt so much, and it was so loud. The sound seemed amplified tonight. I heard each smack as it echoed in the room, even as I felt the pain spreading through my bottom and thighs. Finally … finally I couldn’t help but cry out. And when I did, the paddle seemed even harder and faster. I gripped your leg, and started crying.”

Conrad cuddled her beside him. “It’s over, darling. I forgive you now.” He felt her body relax in slumber, and whispered into her hair, “I love you. Even though I must punish you sometimes, I love you.”

-the end-