St: Cranky, a new story (M/F)
dlan...@ymail.com
Cranky
By Sampast and Don A. Landhill
Copyright © 2013 all rights reserved.
Things were different before. If someone had asked her what had changed, she wasn’t sure she’d be able to say, but just that they weren’t as they were before. Yes, they still wrote together, but it was a different kind of together. He sitting at his desk, she sitting at hers. Sometimes he would come over to show her something, or she would go to him and show him. It was peaceful; it was flowing. She would look up and see him smiling at her. For no reason. Or staring. And she would smile back. Other times he would look over and just see her writing and smile. Knowing that she was just at the other side of the room. And things were all right with the world.
Back before, he had been there. She had been there. They were together, but it was a different kind of together. And then he had gone. And she hadn’t known where he had gone. She had looked for him, of course. For a while. But he was nowhere to be found. She was numb; empty, like a part of her was missing. She went on, because that is what she had to do. She wrote some, but it wasn’t the same. The publishers breathed down her neck to produce something, but she just couldn’t. Not without him. Her fans, their fans, wanted more, but she couldn’t do it. She did write some, but it was inconsequential; she could produce nothing worthy.
And then one day, he was there. She wasn’t sure where he came from or where he had been. But it didn’t matter. He was back. And he was hers. And everything was better. Things were all right with the world.
She was missing him. He had just gone out to run errands, or something. But she wanted him there. She needed him. And then she heard the door close. She ran to him and he caught her in his arms. “Hi there,” he said, lovingly putting his arms around her.
“There you are,” she said. “I missed you.” She held onto him and didn’t want to let go.
He sensed something different about her but couldn’t quite put his finger on it. “I’m glad to see you. Are you okay?” he asked, holding her away from his chest, looking at her. She nodded, but then she shook her head.
“No, I’m not okay. I don’t know. I feel an unease. I feel,” she stopped and started again. “I am cranky and I feel,” she tried but couldn’t put into words how she was feeling. Just that she needed something. Very quietly she whispered, “I think I need a spanking.”
Oh. That was different, he thought. He raised his eyebrows at her. “Oh? And what have you been up to, Missy?”
She shook her head. She hadn’t actually been up to much of anything. She had been trying to write, but it had been all frustrating. She tried to do something and it didn’t work. She was taking things out on the keyboard, and it had done nothing wrong. He was waiting, staring at her.
“Nothing, Sir,” she said respectfully. She hadn’t known where the ‘Sir’ came from, but it was there, none the less, and neither of them spelled it out, this new relationship.
He smiled. “Just need one, do you?” he asked.
“Yes Sir.” She turned over her shoulder and nodded in the direction of her desk. “I’ve brought you my hairbrush,” she said. She pulled away from his embrace, but just long enough to grab the oval oak hairbrush. She presented it to him.
He took the brush, silently wondering if she realized what she was asking for. She must know he would not go easy on her. He would humor her, though, after all, he didn’t mind doing what she asked. “Very well then, young lady, bare your bottom for me.”
She nodded. She did know what she was asking. For some reason, she wouldn’t have been able to go on, wouldn’t have been able to get back to work, if she did not get this spanking. She pushed down her pants and then her panties. She waited for him to sit and then she lay over his lap.
He rubbed her rear lightly, and then lifted his hand and smacked it moderately hard.
Even though she knew it was coming. Even though she had braced herself for it. Even though she wanted it, she still jumped.
There was no reason to scold; she had done nothing wrong. But he couldn’t just spank without lecturing, so he thought of some things to say. It was the release she needed; the words wouldn’t much matter. He swatted her as he lectured, “You will NOT let life get to you too much, Missy,” he said, punctuating each word with a smack from his hand.
She said, “Owww!” What else could she say? It hurt. But she still wanted him to go on.
He picked up the brush. He rubbed it against his palm. He aimed at her bottom and whacked it. Hard. She jumped. Good. He whacked it again and again against her bottom. He saw the red splotches appearing, making her bottom nice and toasty. “Cranky girls earn hot bottoms, young lady,” he scolded.
“Yes, Sir,” she responded. “I was counting on that, Sir.”
Again with the ‘sir’. Now that she had started it, she wouldn’t be able to stop it. She didn’t want to stop it. It felt right.
He continued to wield the instrument, the one which in certain circumstances would have been dreaded, but now it was wanted.
This amused him. “Counting on it, were you?” he asked. This made him think. He paused in his spanking of her. Maybe there was more to this than he first thought. Maybe she was covering something up. “Why do you need a spanking so badly, Missy?” he asked, resuming the scolding.
She didn’t know. She hadn’t done anything. She shook her head, indecisively. “I don't know, Sir. I felt myself getting ornery and out of control,” she admitted. She started to squirm as she felt her bottom heating up. She liked it; it was a delicious sort of feeling. If he stopped now, she didn’t think she could stand it.
He would play along. He liked to play along. He was doing exactly what he wanted to do, what he liked to do. Oh, why had he gone away for so long? He had been a fool. He had missed this so very much. He held that brush and brought it down against her bottom again and again, over and over, seeing her rear start to redden. “You don’t, huh? Well, I will give you what you need, in any case, young lady. I will always give you what you need.”
“Owwwwww,” she said again. She was squirming very deliberately now. The heat was building in her bottom. The tears started to flow from her yes.
He kept using that brush against her; she squirming and crying freely. “Yes, indeed, perhaps a good paddling will get through to you when words or hugs can’t, Missy,” he said, still scolding, still wielding that brush.
She was getting very uncomfortable. She turned this way and that, now, trying to escape the brush. What had she been thinking? It was good that she hadn’t brought him the paddle, because that could have been much worse.
It was almost over, he thought. She was already showing signs of struggle. But she hadn’t actually misbehaved. He could stop any time. “You need to keep on an even keel, as much as you can, young lady,” he said quietly. The spanks got softer now; he kept a steady rhythm but didn’t put as much emphasis into each swat.
She nodded. She writhed and wiggled and sobbed. “Yes, Sir.”
“Just be glad you didn’t actually misbehave, Missy,” he reminded her.
“Yes Sir,” she said, quietly. The tears seemed to overtake her.
He was almost done. “Am I getting through to you? Are you starting to feel more secure and loved?” he asked, lovingly.
She was crying very hard. “Yes, Sir. Yesss. I don’t need any more, Sir,” she said. She wasn’t sure that she could really end a spanking. She had never done that before. But this had been different. Like he said, she hadn’t actually earned this; but had asked for it.
He stopped. He rested the brush on her bottom. It was red. Very red. He felt it. Hot to the touch. He seemed almost sad to stop, but he did. “Very well then, you may stand up.”
She stood. Her bottom was throbbing. She longed to rub it, but didn’t dare until he said she could. She wasn’t sure why; it just seemed like something she should wait for. The tears ran down her face, but all was good. All was right with the world. She felt better.
He smiled and looked at her standing there. He was impressed with her self-control and said so, “You may rub. And a hug is waiting for you when you’re ready. Good girl for not rubbing without permission.”
She earnestly rubbed the sting out of her bottom. It still tingled, but that was okay. She felt her tears still falling. Stepping out of her pants, letting her panties fall off, she ran into his arms and felt the hug go through her entire being. He wrapped his arms around her and held her tightly. She didn’t want him to ever let go.
Finally she broke the silence, her tears drying. “I’m sorry I needed that,” she said.
“It’s okay,” he said, holding her close, rubbing her back. “Whenever you need it, you may ask for it.”
She smiled and held on. He sat down then. She fixed her clothing and climbed into his lap. She snuggled up against him. Things were good. Things were better than okay. Everything was right with the world.
YLeeCoyote
Welcome. It is a pleasure to see a new story from Sam and you again.
I hope to see more.
Y.
Sarah Rondeau
From: "dlan...@ymail.com" <dlan...@ymail.com>
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Sent: Tuesday, January 22, 2013 6:09 PM
Subject: St: Cranky, a new story (M/F)
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gemcolle...@comcast.net
Wow this was an awsome find as I haven't read one of my favorite writers and will easgerly admit to being one of those "fans" in many years! and I too know all to well about being cranky only I try to hide by calling it fussy LOL great story I hope you guys write some more soon!
Mary
Ritch Flynn
This was a wonderful effort. My partner picked up that god awful flu that's going around. I had it last month myself, so I know she feels awful. She asked me to read her a bedtime story, believe it or not, and I just read this one to her over the phone. It brought a smile to the face of a woman who is miserable with influenza right now, and I wanted to thank you both for the gift of happiness you brought to her with your prose.
Cheers,
Ritch "DaChief" Flynn