“Belt, paddle, or hand?”
I had to choose.
If I’d chosen his hand, I thought he would’ve felt the pain as well, but possibly resented me for it, as if I were trying to punish him for the mistake I made. If I’d chosen a paddle, I thought he would’ve eventually tired from the strokes, but only after I was beyond black and blue. At least with the belt, I thought he would tire some as he pummeled my ass.
He pulled his belt off of his dress pants, sat on the bed, and waited. I made sure to not look at him; I was already in enough trouble.
With my head bent down, I slowly walked over, finding my place standing at his side. A hand on my back guided me over his knee. My forearms rested on his thigh. I turned my head towards the front of the room. At least this way my tears wouldn’t stain his pants.
“Do you know why you are being punished?”
“Because I forgot about my assignment. Because I did not do as you asked. Because I was a naughty girl.”
“Tell me, why did you forget?”
“Work. My other errands. And family commitments… It all bunched together, and in my eagerness to help everyone, get everything done, my mind lapsed, forgetting my assignment.”
“Are you sorry for what you did?”
“Oh god yes! All I want to do is go back in time and do as you told me. But I can’t do that. So I have to be punished.”
“Oh, my girl. Such a sweet girl.”
He stroked my hair softly, gently. The hand that held his belt caressed my ass.
“You are a good girl, just forgetful.”
Even I could hear the pout in my voice.
“Okay, I’ll make you a deal. From now on, you will carry around a small little planner. When you leave me, you will write down notes and your weekly assignment. This week, and only this week, you will get a reprieve.”
I half jumped out of his lap, a huge smile on my face, beaming at him.
“I said you would get a reprieve, not go unpunished.”
A hand on my back quickly pushed me down again.
“Seven days you forgot your assignment, so I will give you seven strokes, a far cry from the lashing I had planned.”
“Thank you, thank you so for my reprieve.”
“Well, most everyone deserves a second chance. Are you ready?”
“Yes, always as you wish.”
Crack! Lashing was quite the appropriate term as I felt the bite of the leather into my flesh. Through gritted teeth, I counted. “One.”
Crack! It was as if a quick searing pain licked across my ass. “Two.”
Crack! Like the flick of a snake’s tongue made of fire. “Three.”
Crack! As before, I had my head turned away from him. And tears did indeed graze down my face. “Four.”
Crack! As they slowly ran, their final home was his carpeted floor, falling from my face like raindrops. “Five.”
Crack! I imagined them seeping into the fibers of the carpet, spreading like tiny fingers through the multitude of fuzz. “Six.”
Crack! And for a brief moment, I wondered what it was like to be a teardrop. “Seven.”
His hands lifted me; I pivoted, sitting in his lap gingerly. He brushed away my tears with his thumb, pushed my hair back off my face, and kissed me sweetly.
“That’s my good girl. Now, what are you going to remember for next week?”
“My assignment and a pocket planner.”
He held me, rocking me slowly; I sunk into his arms, having endured my reprieve, this time.
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