Sore

18Nov14

sore bottomThe train was crowded that morning and it seemed that everyone wanted to jostle, shove and variously poke her. Thank God so far there had been no gropers or pinchers.

A couple of times a seat was vacated and an earnest young man would motion at it with his hand and grin. But she would only shake her head as she politely smiled back. Even the padded seats of the train did not bear contemplating just then. In fact the idea of sitting down anywhere ever may never be on her agenda again. The train lurched and she winced as the soreness in her behind flared again, not that it hadn’t been aware of it already. Even standing perfectly still Zoe was very conscious of her bottom and where it came into contact with her knickers and the weight of her skirt and coat.

I should just have called in sick, she thought; I could have spent the day face down on my bed with chilled flannels and cold cream heavenly placed on my tender tail. She smiled dreamily to herself at the thought of it before a jolt brought her back to reality.

That reality involved a bottom so tender and tight that it felt like hot leather clung to her curves as it throbbed with a pain that hadn’t decided whether it was tang or an ache.

She thought ruefully on the events of yesterday that had led to her secret little shame, or not so little, if she were honest. She glanced into the mirrored blackness of the train window at the hump of her bottom thrusting out behind her.

There had been a party as usual; not a smart move on a school night, but she couldn’t wait to live just for the weekends could she? Anyway there had been booze and even drugs and Alec Geoffrey. Smart Alec, she smiled to herself chewing on her lower lip at the thought of him. Well the joke had been on her last night.

“The trouble with you Alec is that you are all mouth and no trousers,” she had sneered loudly.

Even at the time her unfettered Bolton accent had grated on her ears. Not that she was ashamed of it, but since moving to London she had toned it down somewhat. But she hated the way that after a few drinks it reasserted itself and clagged to her tongue. Why did she have to get so leery after a drink?

“Yes and the only trouble with you is, no trousers,” Alec had shot back at her with a wink.

Smart bloody Alec, she thought, but it had been hard not to laugh.

“Something wrong with my skirt?” had been her best repost.

“Actually, aside from your gob there isn’t much wrong with you at all,” he winked again.

There had been a compliment in there somewhere but people were laughing and she knew he was getting the better of her somehow. The drink in her hand was still half full and it seemed only right to share. Besides, Alec looked so funny with G&T dripping off his face.

“You little brat,” Alec spluttered, “I ought to put you over my knee and spank that oversized behind of yours.”

Zoe blushed, but the threat coursed through her blood and made her lightheaded.

“Like I said,” she replied loudly and with a broad smirk, “All mouth.” She worked her hand like glove puppet as she spoke and looked around the room for approval.

A couple of the stuck up southern girls were frowning and whispering, but the men were still laughing.

“Is that right?” Alec said in a steely voice.

Zoe felt uncertain now, there was something in his eyes, but she didn’t know how to extricate herself.

“Yeah right,” she had shot back in a playground tone.

The booze had fogged her but somehow she was suddenly across his lap while patted her bottom and tugged teasingly at the hem of her short skirt.

“Alec… what… come on…” she had protested.

People were really laughing now.

“I wonder what is under here?” Alec teased. With that he had given her a swat.

“You wouldn’t dare,” she spat.

Of course he had. Unfortunately she had only a thong underneath and her tights hadn’t matched her skirt.

Zoe sucked in her lips at the memory and blushed puce. The train pulled into Earlsfield with a lurch. The crush of commuters jostled her again and her bottom paid the price.

“Sorry love,” muttered someone who didn’t sound it.

With the train underway again she thought about her bottom and how it came to be a source of torment.

There she had been more or less bare-bottomed over smart Alec’s knee with everyone laughing at her.

“Let me up you bastard,” she had moaned. She had sounded uncertain and whiney, she knew that now. The heat had risen then and now to burn at her ears.

“Say sorry,” Alec had chuckled, his arm firmly holding her place.

“Like I said…” Zoe had said in her nastiest voice, “All chuffing mouth.”

His hand had been sharp on her bottom and a very high pitched squeak had escaped her mouth. That noise was more embarrassing than her position just then.

“Say sorry,” Alec insisted.

“Piss off,” Zoe replied sullenly.

The hand was sharper and then sharper still. The spanking had stung, it had burned and surreal wasn’t in it. Worse still she couldn’t hold her tongue had squealed like a soft southern bint.

“Bastard,” she protested, but she had been panting then and her voice had been strained.

“Say sorry,” Alec growled.

The women were laughing, but not all the men. Some looked concerned, soft southern shites, she had thought even then.

Her bum had been on fire by then, Alec was definitely not messing about.

“Okay, okay,” she had wailed.

“Say sorry,” Alec teased.

“I’m sorry, alright,” she had snapped angrily.

“Say it nicer than that, I don’t like your attitude,” Alec chuckled. The hand hadn’t taken a break from spanking her.

“I’m sorry,” she replied in a miserable voice on the edge of tears.

“Better,” Alec replied cautiously, his hand poised over her bare bottom. “So I’m all mouth?”

“No, no, I’m sorry,” she agreed hastily.

“Say, I am sorry I was a bad girl and I deserved a smacked bottom,” Alec whispered firmly.

The laughter was a dull roar and far away. Just background noise and the moment had been intimate.

“I’m sorry,” Zoe whispered.

“Come on that’s enough,” some bloke cut in.

“Fuck off,” Zoe said angrily.

But Alec set her on her feet and she had smoothed her skirt down. She had glowed red hot at both ends. God she was still so sore, she thought ruefully, but not necessarily at Alec.

End



3 Responses to “Sore”

  1. I enjoyed the story, thanks.

  2. 2 Raffe

    She was sorry at the end. Wasn’t she!

  3. That was different – short and sweet!

    Best,
    Enzo


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