| Author |
Message |
    
Miscreant
New member
Username: Miscreant
Post Number: 8
Registered: 10-2006
| | Posted on Thursday, October 26, 2006 - 07:26 pm: | 
|
Being Accountable -- 1
After checking my watch for the hundredth time that morning, I locked the door, went down the front steps, along the walk and opened the trunk of the car. I put my portfolio case into the trunk, laying it flat on the floor, before closing the lid and getting into the car. I had plenty of time before this meeting, but it seemed like there was always some kind of construction on the roads these days; I couldn’t be late.
I backed the car out of the drive drove to the end of the street where I waited for few cars to pass before turning right onto the busier road, heading north. The traffic seemed to be moving along nicely, and I settled in to the trip. About a mile and a half later, I pulled into the left-turn lane and waited for the light to change. There was still no sign of roadwork or any other delays. The car ahead of me turned left, and I so did I.
In my memory, whenever something important happened, I had to drive along this road, or another one to the south of the city. There was a steady flow of traffic as the road sliced between residential neighbourhoods, and then a grocery store and small shopping mall on the north, large soccer playing fields on the south, followed by more houses. In a few miles the landscape would start to change to the industrial business complexes, restaurants and hotels that indicated that there was an airport nearby.
Thinking about the layout of the city, I realized that if a diagonal line were drawn from north-west to south-east on the map, the place I was going was at the upper end, and at the other was the restaurant downtown where I’d had lunch with David four weeks ago. Although that imaginary line would probably be 25 miles long, and cover quite a sweep of the city, it didn’t mean anything in particular: it was just my way of getting a visual sense of things.
It felt good to be out of the house, away from my drawing table and the telephone. For the last year, I’d been doing illustrations for children’s books and a couple of cookbooks--bright, cheerful drawings and watercolours. The work paid well, and freelancing meant I was at home most of the time, which was good for the kids.
I reached the clover-leaf turn that intersected this road with the busier highway, and headed north. In the distance, I could just make out the roof of the hotel. There was a lot of traffic along here, but at 10:30 in the morning everyone seemed to be behaving themselves properly, including the truck drivers.
I tried to ignore the knot in the pit of my stomach as I turned right, into the hotel parking lot. I was 15 minutes early, so I drove around to the back of the hotel and parked in a quiet area. I wanted to compose myself before going inside. Opening my purse, I saw the little leather notebook wedged snugly between my wallet and my makeup case. It took out my compact and checked my face in the mirror on the back of the windshield visor before powdering my nose a little. I reached for a lip pencil and my lipstick and applied them to my lips, blotting with a tissue, before putting them away again and closing the bag.
There was nothing left to do now, except wait.
I’d only seen David once before in person, though we’d chatted often enough online. We’d met in an Internet chat room. It was all very casual: pleasant conversation with a bunch of kinky people, no strings attached, no demands being made on anyone who didn’t want them. David had read some posts I’d made to the forum attached to the chat room, and responded to them thoughtfully. Over time, we’d become friends of a sort. Few people discussed their offline lives in any detail in that place, and we were no exception. So, although we’d interacted for months, we didn’t know a lot about each other in many ways.
Then one day he’d e-mailed me, asking if I would have lunch with him. I knew he lived and worked in the same city as I did, but had never considered that we might meet. I thought, why not? I accepted, and we exchanged a few more messages, working out the time and place. We agreed to meet at a very lovely French restaurant in the heart of the business district.
After we’d been seated, and the waiter had gone, David said, “So, where are you supposed to be this afternoon?”
“Oh, I’m correcting colour proofs with a printer,” I said. He smiled and nodded.
Lunch was easy and relaxed; no one would have imagined that we’d never met before. We talked about our families, a book he’d read, a series of illustrations I was doing—we were as comfortable and relaxed as though we’d been good friends for years.
After we’d eaten, and the waiter had brought our coffee, David said, “Look, Maggie, we’ve been chatting for a long time, and I’ve read the stories and impressions you’ve posted in the forum. I’ve read all of them. And I like you. . .” he paused, searching for words. “You wrote some things about wishing you could be completely honest with someone, and have it make a difference, give you some structure and support in your life, right?”
“Yes . . .” I said, slowly, not used to having my ideas quoted back to me, and wondering where this was leading. I didn’t want to jump to conclusions. I wanted to hear him out before I said anything.
“Well, could you tell me more about what you meant? Because I’m wondering if . . .” he trailed off.
“You’re wondering whether you could be that someone, hmm?” I said. I smiled. “Who knows? Maybe you could.” David looked relieved. “Relax,” I said. “It takes guts to do what you’ve done, taking me up on something I wrote somewhere a while ago. I know that. I’m really trying to listen to you, and to think about what I meant.”
“Well, it seems to me that you’re carrying a lot all by yourself, Maggie. Maybe you’re not getting the support you need. Maybe you’re a perfectionist, and feel dissatisfied. Maybe it’s something else . . .”
“Okay,” I interrupted. “I do juggle a lot of things, and it’s not easy. And I don’t feel like I get what I need a lot of the time, but hey, who does? C’mon! Really, I mean, who does feel that anyone else knows what their life is really like, and how hard they’re trying to make things work?” I blinked hard, feeling a lump rise in my throat, surprising me. I took a sip of water.
“Sometimes I just feel like I’m losing perspective, like things are off-balance, and I find myself losing my temper, or getting into an argument with Rob, or feeling so tired of the kids, or maybe just stressed-out. I need to get a release from all of that, you know? But I can’t. I end up holding on to things that everyone else has probably forgotten about, and obsessing about things that no one really cares about. When I really do something that’s just wrong, it’s hard to feel like whatever I do to make up for it does the trick, somehow. I mean, I don’t feel that it’s over, that I’ve paid for it, or something, you know? But I think lots of people feel like this. It’s just the kind of world we live in, isn’t it?”
He nodded slowly, watching me. I could feel how calm he was. “Maggie, when have you felt like you were able to handle the stresses and moods better? I think I know from something you wrote about, but would you tell me?”
I had to blink hard again, feeling awkward and clumsy all of the sudden, and not understanding where this impulse to get teary-eyed was coming from. “Well, yeah. I’ve written about it, about a relationship I had before I married Rob. Michael just had a sense of things, I guess, and he knew . . .”
“Oh, come on, Maggie. It wasn’t really just intuition, was it? Admit it. Michael may have had a sense of when a woman is getting stretched to her limit, sure, but if he hadn’t enjoyed putting you over his knee when necessary, he probably wouldn’t have dared to do it the first time, let alone carry on after that, now, would he?”
I grinned sheepishly and looked away, embarrassed. This wasn’t something I’d ever talked about with anyone except Michael. Nice as he was, I didn’t really know David.
“Look, Maggie. I’m not so different, you know. None of the Doms in that chatroom are. You know that. Isn’t that why you go there? To meet some people who understand these things?”
“Well, maybe,” I said. “But it’s not like I actually talk about it, or get into the cyber-scenes, you know . . .”
“Right. You don’t. But you know that you’re with a bunch of like-minded people, so if you did want to talk, you’d find someone who understood.”
I nodded.
“I want to be straight with you, Maggie. I like you. I think you’ve got a lot going for you, but you sell yourself short too often. I don’t have a sub right now, but I’d like to. I like feeling that I’m helping to make a difference in someone’s life, that the time we spend together is good for both of us, and that it’s more than just some tawdry affair. Do you understand?” He didn’t wait for me to answer. “I wonder if we might have some needs that were compatible. I’ve been imagining some ways that could be very rewarding for us—relieve stress for both of us, help us each feel a kind of accomplishment, and give you some much-needed discipline. And I’ve thought of a way that could keep it from upsetting things in either of our marriages, a way to keep it within certain strict limits.”
He’d caught my attention. I wasn’t sure I wanted to get into something with a Dom, but I was intrigued anyway. “Go ahead,” I said. “What did you have in mind?”
He grinned, looking like a kid who wants to show off his newest toy. It was a very charming look.
“Here’s my idea. We meet, once a month, no more. In a place like this. We have coffee or lunch. You bring a notebook with you that you’ve been keeping up to date, and we go over it.”
“A notebook?” I was puzzled.
“Yes. I was thinking that you could keep a special notebook. Every day that something happens, like, say you rush a deadline, or you miss one, or you have an argument with Rob, or you forget to pay a bill, or dinner doesn’t turn out right—whatever it is that happens that you feel hangs over you for more than a few minutes, you just make a note of it. It doesn’t matter what the things are, they just have to be what’s bothering you, you see?”
I nodded, starting to get the idea.
“And then, after three weeks, you e-mail me, and set up the date and time for us to meet in the next week. You send a simple e-mail about our meeting. You write something dull that no one else would pay attention to. We might have a bit of back-and-forth about that, but we’ll come up with a time. Then we meet, and go over your entries for the last month. You can talk about them. Tell me about how it feels, all of that. And then . . . .”
I rolled my eyes and smirked. “Then? And then what, David?”
“And then I’ll address your attitude,” he said in a firm tone, without raising his voice a single decibel, looking down at me slightly. I felt a little shiver run up my spine. “I will want to talk, examine with you what you did, or didn’t do. Maybe go over some incident in detail. And after having heard your complete confession, I’ll make your bottom suffer; your penance until I think you’re absolved.”
“Yikes, David,” I said. “I went to a Catholic school . . .”
“So I thought,” he chuckled.
“And we do this just once a month?” I said. He nodded. “No other conversations, no e-mail or telephone calls, nothing getting in the way of the rest of our lives?” He nodded again. “Except that you’ll be keeping your notebook entries up to date,” he said.
“Right,” I said. “I keep the notebook, and I bring it to you, and we go over it, and then you tan my hide, and it’s over, and I go home, and it all starts over until the next month.”
“Exactly,” he said. “That’s exactly correct,” he said. “Good girl.”
I swallowed hard, and couldn’t help looking down briefly. Even though I hadn’t heard it directed to me in a long, long time “Good girl” is such a loaded term.
“One more thing, Maggie.”
“Yes?”
“I’m not expecting you to have sex with me. That’s not what this is for, really. I just want to . . .”
I arched my brow. “You just want to have access to intimate parts of my body and cause me a certain amount of pain, but it’s all for my own good, and to prove it, we’re not going to have sex—is that what you’re saying?”
“Watch your tone of voice, dear. Be very careful about tone of voice, Maggie. I insist on that.”
I shivered involuntarily.
“Yes, that’s what I mean. We can get everything taken care of for both of us without sex. And that’s why I am adding one more thing to the list of what you’ll account for in your notebook.” I tilted my head to the side, listening.
“Make a note every time you have sex, whether it was by yourself or with someone else.” My eyes widened slightly, but I didn’t say anything.
“Every time, make a note, what you did, how many times and whether you came or not. Understand? You don’t have to use words if you don’t want to. Come up with some symbols if that’s less compromising. Just make sure you know what they mean. Do I make myself clear?”
I nodded slowly, my mind racing, suddenly realizing that I’d agreed to do this, that it was going to happen, and that even though it shocked me in some ways, in others it felt strangely right.
The waiter brought the bill. I reached for my purse, but David shook his head, signed the tab, and stood up. I got up from my chair, and we walked to the underground parking lot. Casually placing his hand on the back of my neck, he steered me towards his car, parked in the far corner. I let him guide me.
David opened the back door on the passenger side, motioning me to get in. Confused, I nonetheless got into the car. He walked around to the other side and got into the back seat. For the first time that day, I suddenly felt very nervous.
He spoke quietly. “Maggie, let there be no question about it between us: you will tell the truth, all of it, no matter how embarrassing or trivial the details may seem to you. You will tell the truth, and if I ask you to elaborate, you will do it without holding anything back from me. Agreed?”
I nodded jerkily, and said “yes” very softly.
“I’m very glad we had lunch today, Maggie. Thank you for accepting my invitation. It means a great deal to me that you did. But this is where our new relationship begins. It’s not social, we’re not dating, we’re not having an affair. This isn’t a usual sort of thing. To be as close as we will be, we will also need distance, and in that secure distance, you will tell me the truth, and I will give you what you need to let go of the things that weigh on your mind.”
“Yes, that’s right,” I said.
David’s reached over to my right wrist, and pulled me across his knees. In one way I was surprised by this, but in another way it felt perfectly correct. I said nothing but lay there, trying to calm my racing heart. My hair had fallen over my face, but I didn’t move it away.
“You’re a very lovely woman, Maggie,” he said, stroking my back slowly and gently moving his hand over my bottom to my thigh. I waited.
“You told Rob that you were meeting with the printer today, didn’t you?”
I hadn’t expected the question. “Yes, that’s what I told him,” I said.
I hadn’t seen his upraised hand. I hadn’t realized that I’d been holding my breath until he brought his hand down, very hard, on my bottom. My lightweight cotton dress and pantyhose offered little protection; the spank burned into me.
“Are you sorry you lied to Rob?”
My mind raced. Was I sorry?
“No,” I said, sure of what would come next. “I’m not sorry.”
Three more spanks rained down on my bottom, sharp and hard. I lay there, panting.
David gathered my full skirt in his hand and lifted it to my waist. I moaned, feeling the beginnings of humiliation and dread.
“You’re not sorry you lied to him? Are you sure, Maggie?”
Taking a deep breath, I said, “Yes, I’m sure. I’m not sorry.”
Five rapid, hard spanks burned into me, bringing tears to my eyes. I felt David’s hand at the waistband of my pantyhose. “No, David. Please. Not now. Not this time! Please!”
He ignored me, pulling the hose down, tugging them from underneath me. I was wearing white thong panties: he pulled them down as I moaned and started to weep. How did this happen? I felt very exposed and fragile.
“Will you tell Rob the truth about where you are the next time we meet, Maggie?”
The question hovered in the air for at least a minute. I couldn’t imagine telling Rob. I wouldn’t tell him! There was no way I could tell him, and I didn’t want to. I didn’t even feel guilty about it. It wasn’t any of his business!
“Answer me, Maggie. Don’t keep me waiting.”
“No,” I said.
“No? No what? Tell me, now.” His voice was firm, and clear, his authority absolute.
“No, I won’t tell him where I am next time. I’m not going to tell him. I’ll lie to him again!” My words started out haltingly, but I was almost spitting them out by the end.
Ten spanks covered my bare bottom, setting it on fire. I couldn’t believe that I’d agreed to this. I felt a rising panic meeting my sense of injury and indignation. This wasn’t what I remembered from years before, with Michael, surely, was it? But I knew it was. It had been like this. Almost exactly like this. The pain, the confusion, the panic, the heat—I remembered it all, and realized I was crying.
David stopped, resting his hand on my bottom, not stroking or soothing me, just waiting.
“Why is that, Maggie? Why are you already planning to lie to Rob again? Why won’t you tell him what you’re really doing?” His hand pressed firmly against my aching skin.
I took a deep breath, trying to still myself, to ease back from the pain and tears. Only later on did I realize that I had no sense of struggle, no real desire to get away from David, or even to get up from his lap, though I could have done so. He wasn’t holding me down. I was lying there as though this was the most natural thing in the world for me to do.
“Tell me, Maggie. I don’t like to be kept waiting for an answer to a simple question. Why won’t you tell Rob what’s going on?”
I took another deep breath, knowing what my answer would bring. “He’s got no right to know. He wouldn’t understand, and he wouldn’t try to. He wouldn’t care, not really. Not in the right way.”
Just as I expected, five more spanks, very hard and very fast. I cried out, and started to sob, feeling the pain of it, and also the pain throbbing my bottom.
After what seemed a long time, David said, softly, kindly, “Will you feel guilty about that, Maggie?” He stroked my flaming cheeks.
For a moment, I cried harder, but only for a moment. Then I took a deep breath, almost afraid of what my answer would bring, “No. I won’t feel guilty.” I turned my head, looking over my shoulder at David. “This isn’t about him. This is about me.”
He squeezed my bottom gently, and pulled me up into a hug that was genuinely warm and comforting. He got out of the car, letting me pull my clothes back into place by myself.
When I got out of the car, I was very aware how my bottom burned, but I also felt like something was clearer, now.
David walked with me to my car. I opened the door and turned to give him a quick hug. “Thank you,” I said.
“You’re sure?” he asked. For the first time I could see his vulnerability, and I realized that he was the one who felt anxious and uncertain, now.
I smiled. “Oh, yes, I’m sure. I’m very sure. Thank you. We’re going to be just fine, you and I.”
The look of relief on his face told me everything I needed to know about David at that moment. Yes, he wanted to do it. He wasn’t sorry he’d been so firm with me. But he wasn’t the sort of sadistic man who would spank me just for the sake of taking out his own frustrations on some woman’s bare ass. Strange as I know it might seem, he wanted to make things better for both of us.
So here I was, a month later, and it was time to get out of my car, go into the hotel restaurant, and hand David the notebook. I knew I was ready, even though my mouth felt dry, and my heart was starting to pound in my ears.
I was going to be accountable. |
Pinkcheeks
Advanced Spanko
Username: Pinkcheeks
Post Number: 936
Registered: 12-2005
| | Posted on Friday, October 27, 2006 - 11:38 am: |
|
 great job!!
"Do I have to be good ALL the time?"
|
Tplayer
Spanko
Username: Tplayer
Post Number: 168
Registered: 05-2006
| | Posted on Friday, October 27, 2006 - 12:39 pm: |
|
Someon's been reading my mind!
It's all a matter of perspective
|
Buenaventura
Spanko
Username: Buenaventura
Post Number: 249
Registered: 04-2006
| | Posted on Friday, October 27, 2006 - 01:01 pm: |
|
Gee what a great story Miscreant.I can identify with the spanker very much.It,s pretty much like that with my spankee except for the sex.Looking forward to the next chapter.Bravo!!! |
Miscreant
New member
Username: Miscreant
Post Number: 11
Registered: 10-2006
| | Posted on Friday, October 27, 2006 - 10:18 pm: |
|
slow smile...
Wow.... really? You like it? 'Cuz, see, I've never written these stories down or shown them to anyone. I've made some outlines and things like that, but I didn't have anywhere to put them, and it's not easy showing a story like this to most people, you know?
pretty sure you all know just what I mean...
Thank you. 
I'll post the next chapter in a couple of days.
A. |
Tammynx
Moderator/Spanking Aficionado
Username: Tammynx
Post Number: 1409
Registered: 10-2005
| | Posted on Saturday, October 28, 2006 - 08:04 pm: |
|
I loved it!!
Very well written and easy to read.
Simply wonderful!!! I can't wait for another chapter!!
 |
Uh_oh
New member
Username: Uh_oh
Post Number: 37
Registered: 04-2006
| | Posted on Monday, October 30, 2006 - 12:10 am: |
|
that was AMAZING! so well written, for a moment i felt as if i was really reading a novel and i was so engrossed in the story that at the end, i was so disappointed bc i wanted MORE! I just wanted to turn the page and keep reading lol great job and i am soo looking forward to the next chapter...which i hope is going to be very very soon...thanks!! |
Prissietl
Junior Spanko
Username: Prissietl
Post Number: 56
Registered: 07-2006
| | Posted on Monday, October 30, 2006 - 03:02 pm: |
|
Oh my gosh i loved it! good job!
Once a princess always a princess
|
Nd2bspankd
New member
Username: Nd2bspankd
Post Number: 19
Registered: 11-2006
| | Posted on Saturday, November 04, 2006 - 01:50 am: |
|
That was amazing. Can't wait to read the next installment! I was hanging on every word! This touches a little hidden desire in us all, I think. I hope chapter 2 is close behind.
Pink Bottom wishes.
|
Ladygator2904
Spanko
Username: Ladygator2904
Post Number: 305
Registered: 03-2006
| | Posted on Sunday, December 24, 2006 - 07:06 pm: |
|
Your story was incredible. So real life it made me think ALOT!!!Thanks, I cant wait to read more.
A woman`s heart may be filled with an ocean of secrets but mine have all been released and I have a sore bottom to prove it!
|
Buenaventura
Spanko
Username: Buenaventura
Post Number: 392
Registered: 04-2006
| | Posted on Monday, December 25, 2006 - 10:18 pm: |
|
Miscriant are you still with us??When,s thenext chapter coming??Come on be a chum.Postit for us!!I just reread this and it,s still good. |
|
Member's Spanking Stories