A Matter of Fact

15Apr16

a resCarrie re-read the essay again and smiled. It was definitely on zeitgeist and she would definitely get high marks. She tugged at unkempt strands of red hair that fell unevenly onto her misbuttoned turquoise cardigan. The longest strand reached her mouth and she chewed on it absently.

Why do people do this stuff? It was not the first time she had pondered the question and she glanced in fascinated horror at the research material. It was definitely strange.

The spanking mags were predictable and aimed mainly at men or so she presumed. But there were dozens of novels, romances published by female-centric authors. Many of these were written to a formula she had noticed. Peering over her heavy learned spectacles, she quickly reread one:

The atmosphere in the room was tense and Karen felt her heart race. Every detail was now etched on her soul. Tom glared at her, his manly chest now seeming broader than ever. She noticed that he had not shaved that morning and a blue black shadow emphasised his firm square jaw. His eyes now looked like dark gems as they regarded her with benign threat.

“Look, I am sorry, how was I to know that she hadn’t told him,” Karen gulped and took a step backwards.

“You knew alright, don’t lie,” Tom growled.

“I didn’t, I mean… look, what business is it of yours anyway?” she tried to sound imperious, “I need you to go.”

“I know what you need,” he said seriously and advanced menacingly as he unfolded his arms.

“Oh is that right, and what is that?” she spat.

“What you need is a damn good spanking, delivered to your precious pert bare bottom you little brat,” he snarled.

“You wouldn’t dare,” she said scornfully. He hated her now, she thought, and he was right. She had known that Mary hadn’t told Jock about the baby and that… she sighed and brought herself to the present.

“Don’t test me,” Tom said sharply, “But I don’t think you are worth the bother.”

“I knew it,” Karen said triumphantly, “You are such a coward.”

Tom’s fingers flexed and a strange look touched his face.

Then Karen saw something and backed away again. “Oh no, you, you wouldn’t…” she said uncertainly.

In one easy move Tom strode forward and swung the hapless Karen around and into his chest. It was a simple matter from there to drop into a chair and haul her across his knee…

Carrie’s mouth hung open as she turned the page, now entirely caught up in the torrid action

Karen’s panties slid down her long firm legs even as she kicked and punched at Tom’s thigh.

“You bastard, you…” she wailed.

Her bottom now bare, Tom landed a firm smack to her smooth white flesh. The crack of his hand was satisfying and he spanked her again. “Brat,” he spat.

“Oooh basatrd,” she said again as she kicked up her legs.

Tom’s hand rose and fell with vigour now and a determined Karen clamped shut her jaw and tried to stay silent. It was a short defiance and in a moment she was yelping like a teen and bucking up and down across his lap again.

“Please Tom, please I’m sorry,” she sobbed.

There was more and Carrie found herself reading to the end of the chapter and the lingering kiss. Then she grabbed another book and flicked over pages to something else she remembered.

This time the account was factual and she really didn’t get it.

My husband and I have had our troubles but I find a good firm slap on the behind sorts out most things. It certainly beats the arguments. Sure sometimes I feel it where I sit for a few days and I positively loathe corner time, but that’s the point isn’t it.

The knock at the door took Carrie by surprise and hastily she put down the book and straightened her specs.

“Hello?” she called.

When no answer came she stood up and crossed the small dorm room and opened the door.

The man standing in the hallway looked like a cop, but no police officer wore such a sharp well-fitting suit.

“Are you Miss Carrie Carnie?” the man asked her in a smooth baritone. Now he sounded like a college professor and she was on safer ground.

“That’s right,” Carrie told him and frowned. This felt like trouble.

“I am JD Harrington. Your friend downstairs said to come up, you’re grad student right? Doing some research into LDD, CP mentoring and…” he fumbled for an email print out which he read from, “Real experiences and the cultural impact of spanking in the 21st century. You wrote to me.”

“Oh, oh Mr Harrington yes that’s right, but that was weeks ago… I am afraid you have had a wasted journey. The essay is finished now,” Carrie said pleasantly.

“Oh really,” he smiled, “How did you get on? Who did you get to see?”

“See?” Carrie asked puzzled.

“You spoke of experience and… well never mind. Perhaps now that I am here perhaps I could read your work?” Harrington said matter-of-factly.

Carrie started in surprise, now flattered. “Sure,” she gushed, “come in.”

*

Harrington flicked through the first page or so and frowned.

“You don’t get it at all do you?” he said.

Carrie opened her mouth to speak and then glanced at the piles of books she had accumulated and paused to press her lips together.

“Some of it,” she admitted, thinking of how she had been drawn to some of the images and words she had found.

“Some of it,” Harrington shot back, “Is that good enough?” Then he waved the words away and made a placating gesture. “Sorry. It’s none of my business. I just thought… who else have you spoken to?”

“Spoken to…? No one, not exactly,” Cassie said forlornly, she was beginning to feel less confident in her work.

“So you have no first-hand knowledge or even second hand information?” Harrington said thoughtfully.

“Does it show?” Carrie winced, bouncing up and down in her seat nervously.

“Well…” he drawled and made a rocking motion with his hand. “How long do you have for rewrites? Oh, there I go again…” he made to shoot himself in the head with his finger and emitted a gun sound through his teeth.

“Oh weeks,” she told him eagerly, “I mean if there is anything you can suggest?”

“Well,” he said again and frowned. “I know some people, submissive feminists, surrendered wives, hard core slave lifestylists, and just some scene players… how about I set you up with a few interviews and maybe you could come to a party or two?”

Carrie’s head was spinning now. Suddenly she knew she had only scratched the surface and was almost embarrassed by her efforts. It wasn’t as if she hadn’t known she didn’t get it. But something had interested her and something held her back. What was she afraid of?

“I read so much about you, I even read a couple of your books. They were different from the rest, but they scared me a bit,” she admitted.

“Oh, how so?” he asked.

“Oh nothing,” she demurred. “I could do worse than take you up on your offer. I’ll put myself entirely into your hands.” For some reason she blushed.

“Really,” he said in surprise, “Do you even know what that means in my world?”

Suddenly Carrie felt awkward and her blushing increased. She shook her head. “Not really,” she mumbled, “But then I suppose that is the point of seeking your help.”

Harrington harrumphed and turned back to the manuscript to finish it.

“Tell me Miss Carnie, have you ever been spanked?” he asked.

Carrie gaped and started blushing again. Then she giggled and dipped her head. “No, of course not,” she said defensively.

“Well after reading this misinformed and insulting nonsense I think what you need is a good spanking and some hands on experience,” he said sharply, adding, “Literally I would say.”

Carrie caught her breath but couldn’t hold it long and she was left gently panting. She was blushing furiously again and she didn’t know where to look. She certainly couldn’t meet Harrington’s eyes.

“Still want to put yourself ‘entirely in my hands,’” he quoted.

Carrie swallowed but had no courage to answer.

“Miss Carnie, come here please,” Harrington ordered her.

He had already put down her essay and was now sitting round to sit squarely in the only chair in the room.

“W-what are you going to do?” she whispered.

“I think you know,” he replied in a stern voice.

Carrie felt awkward, but curiosity, a sense of adventure and a surge of hitherto unknown excitement overwhelmed her. She half resisted as awkwardly she tumbled across Harrington’s lap; a man she had barely known for half an hour

“When I spank I spank on the completely bare bottom,” he told her.

Carrie didn’t answer, but a rush of air in and then out of her mouth again matched her nervous tremble.

Harrington flipped her short red gingham skirt and raised an eyebrow at the mismatched green hold-up stockings and her big pants. She was heavier than she looked but the weight of her across his thighs was comfortable enough.

Carrie’s head spun and she felt odd unfamiliar tickles at this rare touch of a man.

“Did you hear me?” he snapped.

She nodded.

“What did I say?”

Carrie swallowed as she blushed hotly and muttered, “You said you sh-spanked b-bare.”

“Still want to put yourself in my hands?” he asked.

“Yes,” she said with a sudden resolve.

“Say ‘yes sir,’” he corrected her.

“Yes Sir,” she whispered.

“Now I want you to take down your own panties,” he said.

Carrie felt a click in her ears as she swallowed again and her body stiffened slightly.

“Do it or get up,” he said.

A modest eon passed before she moved and then it was only to wriggle. “Alright,” she whispered, more to stall than anything. Meanwhile somehow her fingers had found the bottom of her panties and she was tugging at them.

As soon as Harrington saw the greater part of her bottom cleft he gently began to assist the downward motion of her underwear until her sun-shy white behind was completely exposed.

“Oh my gosh,” Carrie gasped and wriggled again.

Harrington was surprised at the comeliness of her full pert curves and felt his mouth go a little dry. Something twitched in his pants and it was his turn to move in his seat somewhat.

“In a moment I am going to spank you in earnest. It will hurt and you may cry. If at any time you want to me to go and call this off I want you to say ‘I am a strawberry wuss,’” he told her. “Remember that, it is your safety phrase.”

“Like a safe word?” She had read about those.

“Exactly so,” Harrington said brightly.

She nodded almost eagerly now she had found at least something she understood.

“Do you understand?” he pressed.

“Yes Sir,” she said and licked her lips. It was a strange feeling.

His hand was a sharp clap that came from nowhere and Carrie emitted a wordless expletive. She was still reeling from the unexpected sting, far worse than she had thought, when he spanked her again.

“Oh my gosh,” she hissed and squirmed the place that tingled the most.

Harrington spanked her steadily then, and moderately hard; one spank landing with some bite about once per second. He didn’t count but comparing her response with the time by the clock he slowly reddened her bare bottom while she gasped and squealed across his knee.

After five minutes her bottom was a beautiful deep red and she was breathing heavily.

“Are you alright Miss Carnie?” he asked, impressed at both her resolve and her fortitude.

She nodded rapidly and looked over her shoulder at him.

He could see her slightly bloodshot eyes were pooled with tears, but she wasn’t actually crying.

“Do you need a time out yet?” he asked.

“Am I allowed to say?” she asked earnestly, “I thought that was up to you?”

Impressive, he thought and smiled.

“Then I would say not,” he chuckled.

“C-can I ask… can I… I mean… how long…?” Her tone was satisfyingly humble. Then she remembered to add a “Sir.”

“Hmmm, honestly, I don’t know. This is your first spanking so… no let’s respect your commitment,” he said decisively. “I’ll break off after five minutes but you’ll take 15 minutes in all and then you can have a time out. Then we will decide,” he told her.

Five minutes, she gasped silently, it had felt like hours. Then it started again.

The next bout of spanking was sharper and faster. Worse it seemed to go on forever and she was sure he had forgotten to check the time.

“Ah-eh,” she groaned as she struggled with the sting.

“Okay, we’ll pause there,” he said.

She didn’t see but he shook out the ache in his arm, unable for the moment to make another spank.

Carrie lay panting and unable to speak. Her bottom was sore over throb and she wondered how she had stood it.

“Last part,” he said finally and this time he was determined to make her react.

She didn’t disappoint and from the first she grunted and groaned amid the panting. Occasionally she would make a half-hearted mutter of ‘stop’ or ‘please’ but nothing that made him think she was in real distress or had forgotten her safety phrase.

This time she couldn’t handle it. She tried as hard as she could to break away and throughout the last three minutes struggled like a drowning cat.

“Please, please, I’m sorry,” she wailed. The ‘strawberry wuss’ phrase popped into her head and scornfully crushed it. She wanted him to stop, but not like that.

Then he did stop.

“Oh God,” she sighed, her bottom was on fire. From her breathing one might have thought she had run a mile and there were real, but as yet unshed tears in her eyes.

“Now Miss Carnie, you will go and stand in the corner with your hands on your head.”

She had read about this and remembered thinking that she would never, ever do anything like this. Now she didn’t argue. It was embarrassing though, and silly, and… and exciting somehow. Her bottom tingled furiously, enough to be scarce bearable but somehow she felt a cosy safety.

“Miss Carnie, you have no idea how much I would love to spank you with a good stout paddle or hairbrush and make you cry properly,” he told her honestly. “But I must admit you have done well.”

“Not today,” she wailed, only hearing the first part, “Please, I know I wrote some rubbish. Help me understand.”

“Are you sure?”

She nodded rapidly and with a seeming eagerness.

“And you want to go on and find out more, properly I mean?” he pressed her.

She turned so that he could see her face. “Oh yes Sir,” she gushed.

He laughed and shook his head. It is always he quiet ones, he thought.

“Okay, but from now on, if you have to use your safety phrase then it is my failure and not yours,” he told her. “Do you understand?”

“Yes Sir, but I won’t use it, not ever. I promise.” She looked back again and smiled heedless that she was still showing him her bare bottom.

“If you turn your nose from the wall again I put that to the test,” he growled.

“Yes Sir,” she gasped as she obeyed.



12 Responses to “A Matter of Fact”

  1. 1 mick9lan

    Thanks! I Loved the story and the situation.

  2. 2 Svetlana

    Written as if to prove that a spanking story does not have to be written to a formula … although I bet you had great fun putting the story in the story together.

    Favourite bit of dialogue: “How long do you have for rewrites?”

    • 3 DJ

      All stories are formulas the secret is to keep it fresh – my biggest challenge.

      • 4 Ripley

        I suppose only you really know whether the challenge is difficult for you or not. But you sure make it look easy! Love the story.

        • 5 DJ

          If it gets too easy – I wonder if I am really trying. But I have a huge number of project ideas and no time even to finish the ones I have started.

          Thanks 🙂

  3. 6 deltawood

    Really liked this one. It certainly could serve as a teaser for an ongoing story.

    • 7 DJ

      I thought that – but I have a few other strands to close off.

  4. 8 Kia

    Lovely story-and feels oddly familiar in some ways.

  5. 10 Pixiebelle

    That was soooooo good. Thanks for another great story 🙂


  1. 1 chross.blogt.ch

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