(Don’t forget to visit Celeste Jone’s book club discussion today! We’re talking about the “Mistress Susan” scene from Desire in Any Language and how the encounter fits/doesn’t fit with Mira’s desire for agape.
This little story is my gift to Minelle, who has agreed to let me share it with you. While her husband is healing, I thought a fictional spanking might cheer her up…and him! Hehe.)
Once upon a time, there was a naughty lady named Minelle. She was loving, generous, and kind. She was also sassy, mischievous, and downright naughty. Her dear Scotsman, P, had to give her a good spanking now and then to put her back on track. It was amazing how a few smacks on that cheeky bottom could melt away her stress, their conflict, and her smart remarks.
Until one day when her dear P had to go in for emergency surgery. Life was a bit grim and scary for a while, but she patiently sat through two hospitalizations and amused herself and her friends by making up hospital porn. She spared her innocent friend the details, but her not-so-innocent friends chortled at descriptions of extra-large granny panties, tying people to the bed with telephone cords, and so on. Dear readers, I will spare you the most shocking details. (You will have to pester Minelle for them. Tell her Ana sent you.)
At long last, her dear Scotsman was safe at home with her, but now they had a problem. Minelle was naughty, and P wasn’t able to give her the spanking she needed! What could she do? They fussed and fretted and fumed, and then the universe conspired to provide our heroine with what she needed. Not one but TWO paddles arrived in the mail! One was a cute, slappy little paddle sent to her by Sunny Girl, and another was a wooden Love Spanks paddle made by Blondie’s husband. A great ripple of laughter swept through blogland as everyone realized that naughty Minelle would finally get the discipline she so desperately deserved.
“Not wood!” exclaimed Minelle in horror. “I’m a spank-no!” She tucked her new paddles safe from prying, eager Scottish hands. She might have gotten away with it, but unfortunately her sassiness got the better of her. She flared up at P because she was certain that her way was right and she knew best, and her usually patient husband had had enough.
“Get over my knee!” he ordered.
Minelle tossed her head and glared. “You think you’re going to make me?”
P rumbled deep in his throat. “Come here, and I’ll take care of you!”
Alas, our unrepentant heroine flounced out of the room and terrorized some poor, unsuspecting dust bunnies.
“Minelle!” bellowed P. “Get over my knee, or it will be the worse for you!”
The dust bunnies chattered in fright as Minelle beat them into submission. “You just try it!” she shouted back. “I’ll do as I please, and no one’s going to tell me what to…eeek!”
Minelle shrieked as a large, heavy hand grasped her waist and another equally large, heavy hand flipped her around. She squalled, beating the palms of her hands on P’s back as he hoisted her over his shoulder and carried her to their bedroom.
One large hand cracked across her bottom, and although it hurt Minelle only grew more furious. “Put me down, you dirty, rotten…”
“Stop it, you jerk!” she squealed. P tossed her onto the bed like a turtle onto its back, arms and legs flailing indignantly. He flipped her over onto her stomach and cracked his hand against her bottom several times in a row.
“Looky what I found,” P drawled, pulling out the two new paddles she had oh-so-cleverly hidden underneath her long underwear. He laid each of the paddles against her bottom in a solid stroke, one after the other. Minelle howled in fury.
“They’re mine, not yours!” she shouted.
P bent down and lifted her hair away from her neck to kiss her gently. “What’s yours is mine,” he murmured, “and you’re mine.”
A delicious shudder ran through Minelle’s chest as the little and big paddle took turns kissing her backside. As the pain increased, her resistance decreased. She finally allowed herself to go limp across the bed, and this time instead of the paddles it was rough hands stroking her hair, her neck, her cheeks, and every inch of her. As P lifted her into his arms, Minelle cuddled against his chest.
“Mm,” she breathed. “You mean you’re mine.”
P kissed her and squeezed her bottom, making her yelp. “I am.”
As Minelle relaxed into the embrace of the man who had vowed to love and protect her for the rest of their lives, a thought occurred to her.
“Darling,” she said. “That should count as my birthday spanking, shouldn’t it?”
P laid a finger on her lips and then kissed her again. “It doesn’t,” he answered, “but the night is young. Business first, and then pleasure.”
Minelle closed her eyes and prepared to give in to the pleasure.