Observation

She came into the living room, where she knew he was waiting. She wore a simple but flattering black cocktail dress, sheer black stockings, and high spike heels. Her short brown hair was brushed to a shine, long gold earrings dangled from her lobes; her gamine’s face was lovely, her lips glossy and inviting.

“Are you ready to go right now?” he asked. Stern overtones remained in his voice, and his face was no more relaxed than hers.

“Yes.”

“Hands against the wall.”

She put her clutch purse aside, faced the wall, and bent forward, bracing herself on her arms. He lifted her dress; when its tightness no longer restrained her legs she spread them wide. Her black lace thong panties accented crimson buns above burning upper thighs.

He pulled her panties down until they stretched tautly between her beautiful legs.

He picked up the short, heavy leather strap. “I am refreshing your spanking to emphasize the topic we spoke about. I’ll be concentrating on your sit-spot, to make sure I know where your attention is for the rest of the evening.”

“Yes, Sir.”

He began to ply the strap: its sharp sounds rang loud. Crack! Crack! Crack! Every smack stung like a thousand wasps. Yelping was permitted, kicking prohibited; so she yelped and stood still.

He paused. “Three more, each side, extremely hard.” The last strokes found the tenderized junctures of thighs and bottom, with terrible precision.

“Fix your clothes,” he said, putting the strap down. He turned to the living room couch, where their 16-year-old baby-sitter sat, trembling and wide-eyed, unable to turn away. “Take good care of Jamie, please,” he said to her. “We’ll be back by midnight for sure.”

— Frenulum