Finally a week of vacation from the stress of work, nothing in particular is planned, nowhere needed to go. The first day is spent lounging around in my bra and panties, just being lazy instead of doing chores. Why rush in to these things when you have all day? After all I am on vacation this week, when unexpectedly my boyfriend comes home EARLY. He thought to surprise me with a carpet picnic in front of the fireplace but instead finds our place a mess.
My stomach drops and heart races as I hear the key turn in the lock. Oh dear, boy am I in trouble as I watch the grin slowly fade from his face. He spots the metal spatula sitting on the counter, just waiting to be put away; without a word picks it up and takes that first step toward me. I watch the fire in his eyes as I slowly back away, watching his expression as I slowly retreat. The dance has begun. The excitement rises as the adrenaline begins to flow, one more step back to his step forward. Ah yes, have made it to the avenue of escape, I dodge his reaching arm as I run up the stairs, racing toward the safety of our bedroom. Never seeing the grin return to his face as he quickly follows, allowing me to stay just out of his reach...yes, now I am exactly where he wants me....
If only a second quicker, the door would have been locked. But alas, now I must pay. Pay for my morning of leisure, for my open defiance, for my quick escape. He casually turns the skeleton key in the lock and then pockets the key. A shiver runs through me as I see his intent, for beside the metal spatula lies the small wooden paddle and finally his belt. My mind races trying to form an effective argument, after all he did come home EARLY, that is SO not my fault. My eyes search his, pleading for mercy all too little effect. His finger soon beckons, drawing me near. Like a moth to flame I cannot resist. He sits on the bench at the end of the bed, while nestling me comfortably over his lap. As I snuggle in closer, I feel his hardness pressing forth (maybe all is not lost). The firm arm across my back and hand at my waist seem to tell a different story. There will be no escape.
My body tenses as he picks up that nasty spatula, oh why could I not have finished putting it away in its drawer. As he rubs the cold metal across my silk panties, I realize how little protection they will serve. He tells me of his disappointment as I hold on tight, all the while thinking of what will occur when the words finally stop. I can barely hear him over the beating of my heart. And finally its quiet. The spatula rises over my defenseless pantied bottom, and then falls with a quick stinging swat! I gasp in surprise for it made not a sound as it sped through the air, but sure made me jump as it contacted my rear. Swat after swat set fire to my bottom, I whimper and squirm trying to avoid the next. Surely he will tire soon. Just as I can bear no more the comforting feel of his hand softly caressing. The circular touches easing the burn which has built beneath his hand. My legs start to part as I relax in to the touch of his hand. One last caress across my bottom and on up my inner thigh, causing goose bumps to rise. I moan in reaction for now my body wants more.
My panties are pulled down for one final caress, then he picks up the wooden paddle and the fire will be built again. My arm hooks around his leg as I hold on tight. Pressing my breasts against his thigh I squirm beneath his strokes. Soon it is finished and he pulls me in close, allowing me to snuggle against his chest as he grants me time to catch my breath. His hand runs up and down my side, stroking over my breast, as I sit across his lap reveling in the closeness the moment has brought. Soon I relax into his touch and feel his breath whispering across the top of my head. The feel of his lips pressing against mine, as we share a kiss so very hot. My body heats even further beneath his touch, before the words come which I have dreaded "lean over the side of the bed".
Fear and excitement course through my blood, for I know his belt can bring both pleasure and pain. I hear the buckle chingle as it is adjusted in his hand, before resting across my bottom as he measures his stroke. The whistle and snap soon fill the air, followed quickly by the gasp forced from my lips. Again and again the whistle and pop. The heat surely rises as my bottom turns red. Until finally it is over and he lays me across the bed. His hand rubbing my back and bottom as I come down from where I've been. I turn my head and catch his little grin, for he knows I am dripping and what journey we are about to begin....