Tuesday, October 16, 2012

CHOOSE-YOUR-OWN-SPANKING PATH D


Remember those Choose-Your-Own-Adventure stories? I thought it would be fun to write one for grown-ups (who like spanking stories). Hope you enjoy!


TO START THE CHOOSE-YOUR-OWN-SPANKING STORY GO HERE

If you refused to get the hairbrush, continue.


You refused, using the word bastard a few more times.  Mouth pressed into a grim line, he picks you up (why do you always forget he’s big enough and strong enough to just pick you up?), tosses you over his shoulder and heads for the bathroom off your bedroom.  You start to kick, and he simply keeps walking, spanking  your bare bottom as he does.  When he reaches the bathroom he grabs his brush.  (The brush you bought him.  Why oh why did you splurge on that hairbrush for his birthday? It cost more than a hundred dollars and is very well made.  It’s rectangular back is wide and thick.  It’s the perfect paddle.)

Then it’s over to the bed.  He sits down and pulls you across his knees, then starts using that brush on your already flaming bottom.  You start crying almost immediately.  It hurts so bad.  You finally realize there’s no point in trying to get away.  He’ll just haul you right back into position. 

He keeps spanking, and you begin to sob.  You can’t help it.  Each stroke of the brush—the paddle—sends a bolt of hot pain through you.  He’s never been able to stand to see you cry before, but now your shoulders are heaving with sobs and he keeps spanking.  All you can do is submit.  Until it’s over.

He lets you lie there until your sobs turn to sniffles, then he helps you to your feet.  He takes your hand in his and leads you to the bathroom, where he turns you away from the large mirror, then tells you to look at yourself.  You don’t want to, but you now know it is better to obey.  You turn your head and take in the sight of your bottom.  It is crimson, and you can see a few spots were bruises have already started to form.  He tells you that if you had simply taken the spanking you’d earned it never would have come to this.  He sounds weary, and disappointed in you. 

He fills up the tub.  For you, you wonder?  No.  He tells you he wants you to stand where you are, continue looking at that red bottom of yours, and think about what you’ve done.  Not just going online for more than an hour, which, he says, turns out to the least of it.  He strips and gets in the tub.  You return your gaze to the mirror.

The moments tick by, and you find your anger and resentment at having been repeatedly spanked fading.  You find that you are genuinely sorry, and not just because of the way your bottom feels.  Yesterday the two of you had agreed that you’d get a spanking if you spent more than an hour online.  You agreed.  And he followed up on the agreement.

And you acted like a brat, calling him a bastard and all but stomping your foot.  He was right.  You did throw a temper tantrum, and all because the two of you agreed on a punishment, you earned the punishment, and then didn’t want to take it.

You apologize.  He accepts.  You want to go to him, climb in the tub with him, be as close to him as you can.  But he hasn’t given you permission to move, so you stay where you are. Being kept from him is almost more painful than being spanked with the brush.

No, it is more painful.  Is he still angry?  Have you ruined everything between you? You get up the courage to ask.

He climbs out of the tub and comes to you.  He says of course things aren’t ruined.  And he isn’t angry.  You’ve been punished for your behavior.  That’s it.  It’s over.  He kisses you.  You don’t even make it to the bed.  You have each other there on the bathroom floor, the tile cool against your throbbing bottom.  His cock hot inside you.

 THE END


Unless you started the evening with some lies.  If you did, poor you, go HERE.







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