Wednesday, 11 January 2012

You know what? Time for a story.

Well, sadly, I have no news to tell you about my great adventure, other than I'm now thinking I'll give it another 24 hours, and then maybe email my second choice.

Sitting here, stewing in my own juices, as it were, I thought I might just throw a story into the ether, for your enjoyment and edification.

This one is an experiment in using a consistent voice, one which is distinctly not my own. I apologise in advance for any embarrassing lapses, especially to any US readers. Obviously I'm English, and my protagonist isn't. I had fun writing it anyway.

There really is a sequel, should any of you enjoy this one. And, you know, let me know that you do!

All the best, with crossed fingers that I'll hear something back from my proposed spankee.


PS photos this time are all taken from My Spanking Roommate, which is one of my top three spanking sites on the web (not that I've been a member of them all, of course).

When Push Comes to Shove

Sometimes being naughty can just be fun, y'know? You push and you push, just to see how far you can take it, and sometimes you just take it that little bit too far.

And that's when he hauls you over his knee and spanks you.

Take my guy, Keith. He's basically a patient sort; kind, slow to anger, pretty much an old world gentleman, y'know, all that sort of thing. A bit of a chauvinist, yeah, I guess so, but in the nicest possible way.

He certainly thinks he knows better'n anyone else, especially this little lady, and he isn't any too shy about telling me so, when he thinks he needs to.

I met Keith at the Railroad Diner, eight or ten miles south of Nashville. 'Course that ain't my hometown, but, like many another, I'd found my way here with dreams of stardom filling my eyes.

Damn eyes were bigger'n my belly, I guess, as I soon had my fill of the country music circuit, and all them promoters who couldn't keep their hands to themselves if you tied 'em up with barbed wire.

I always kinda thought I'd head off home one day, but not 'til after Ma passed; sorry to say I couldn't stand the idea of her gloatin' 'bout how she knew I never had no talent anyhow. She'd make takin' me back into a charity case, and I was fuzzled if I'd ever go for that.

So, yeah, Keith; he swept in one day, and with one look he swept my heart out with him. He took a seat at one of Leanne's tables, but I bounced her out of the way with my hip and, while she was picking her pad back up, I was over at that table, ready and able.

I could tell he was taking a shine to me, and really, why wouldn't he? I was a delightful eyeful, if'n I do say so myself. Strawberry blonde, full mouth, big ol' blue eyes, heavenly curves and a wiggle in m' walk.

Hell, if I liked girls, I'd be after me!

So we chatted while he decided to order chicken fried steak, with okra on the side, and a good plate of home fries. I fetched him a glass of water, and made sure I put extra ice in it; it was a real steamer, that day.

Leanne was a bit pissy 'bout me taking her customer, but I promised she could have any tip he left, and I fancied it'd be a good one. I reckon Leanne could see we was hitting it off too, as she didn't argue or fuss once I told her that.

When he'd finished eating I brung him the check, and he paid it with a bill off of a big roll he reached out a' his pocket; the he handed me somethin' else and murmured to me.

“Here's a little somethin' else for you, darlin'. Hey, and what's your name; don't think I caught it.”

“Well, that's 'cos I didn't throw it. But, yeah, I'm Loretta.” That wasn't my name from back home but when I came to Nashville I had the idea that a famous name wouldn't hurt any.

“Pretty name for a pretty gal.” His voice was big, deep and warm; listening to him was like drowning in a jacuzzi.

“Well Loretta, happen I'll see you around, now and then. Look out for yourself, won't ya.” With these closing words he slid from behind his table, and ambled to the door; he had a kind of John Wayne wobble when he walked, and it was all mighty impressive, I tell ya.

He opened the door and had to bend his neck to get through it, 'tho some of that was on account of the old stetson hat that he wore.

“Oh my, oh my, he was a big one.” sighed Leanne, as she reached for the tip that I held clutched in my hand. “Now let's see what he left me.”

I released the paper, which proved to be a ten dollar bill; Leanne hooted her approval as she turned away, but then she turned back again.

“Hey look, 'Retta. He left you some 'at else too.”

She handed me a small piece of paper on which, in bold swooping curves, was written “Keith – Call Me” and a 'phone number. I was walking on air all the rest of my shift, and I waited less than patiently for it to end.

Just as soon as I was done I headed over to the phone that Max, the owner of the Railroad Diner, kept on the end of the counter, as a courtesy to his regulars; everyone understood, it was local calls only, be short and to the point and don't abuse my hospitality, 'less you want cigarette ash in your eggs next time.

So I called Keith up, and arranged to meet at the Lexington Bar and Grill, which I told him I'd heard about but never bin to. It was 4 streets over.

Sure my Ma would have disapproved, calling a man, and so soon 'n' all, but, Hell, a girl gotta take her chances where she can.

We'd agreed to meet at 10.00, my shift having ended at 9.00, and as I lived in a trailer out back of the Diner I figured that gave me plenty of time.

I charged across to my home, and threw myself into the shower right quick; scrubbing off the smell of bacon grease was a real pleasure. I took a quick belt from the bottle of Jack I kept by the icebox, and then cleaned and flossed my teeth. In the mirror my smile sparkled with promise.

I went to the good undies drawer, and pulled out a pair of black silk briefs, with a low slung kind'a flowery bra to match. I tugged them on while I regarded the rest of my wardrobe, deciding what best to wear.

I sure wanted to impress Keith, but the Lex was a pretty rough and tumble place, and I couldn't see a dress working there. Spit 'n' sawdust seemed to call for jeans, or maybe a jeans skirt.

I only had one skirt matchin' that description, and, when I held it against me, it seemed kind of long for my purposes; y'know, a bit old-maidy?

So I decided to go with jeans after all; I reached for my newest pair and pulled 'em up over my thighs. I had to jump up 'n' down a bit to get my ass into 'em, but the shiny silk of my underpants helped with that. I lay on my back, on my bed, and took a real deep breath in order to fasten 'em, but the pain was worth it. When I studied m' butt in the mirror it looked right pretty.

I selected a silky blouse to go over the top; a shimmering blue thing that brung out my eyes nicely.

Okay, so I was ready to go. Quick look at the time; 9.45, and Lex's wasn't 5 minutes away. Couldn't go yet; I really didn't want to be early. Besides a lady don't walk unaccompanied into a bar with no man waiting for her.

So I put on my little television, and flicked around the channels; Max lived in a room behind the Diner, and had satellite, and didn't mind if I kind of leached the feed off him. He'd even done the wiring.

I got a Jack, over a little ice, and settled in for a bit. The drink was soothing after being on my feet all night, and I took my time with it. When next I looked at my clock it was 10.15. Still, nothing wrong with a lady keeping her gentleman friend waiting a little, was there?

The more I thought about it the more it seemed like a good idea, so I poured another drink, and waited for another 15 minutes or so.

I was feelin' real relaxed at that point, and so I set out for Lex's, enjoying the cool night air; it had been another hot one at the Diner.

Berle, a huge black guy who worked the door at Lex's, greeted me by name; why wouldn't he? I was here 'most every night.

I described Keith to him, and Berle allowed that he might have seen him, if'n he was the guy he thought, and pointed me towards a booth just to the right of the bar. It was one of the good ones, so I guess Keith had made the right kind of impression on Ol' Berle.

I sauntered through the bar, greeting a whole lot of people by name, and gesturing to Andy behind the bar for my usual Jack.

As I reached the booth, Keith stood; he was a real gentleman, alright.

“Loretta. I thought that I'd missed you. Please, take a seat; I'm real glad you made it.”

I smiled, but gave no explanation for my tardiness, and sat down by his side.

“Let me get you a drink; what'll you have?” Keith had a half-full bottle of Coors in front of him; in these parts that damn near counts as exotic.

I waved away his offer. “My drink's on its way, thanks.”

He frowned at that; if'n I hadn't had them Jack's before I came out I might have realised he knew I'd lied before, about not knowing the Lex quite as well as I did.

Still, like the gentleman he was, he made no mention of it, just nodding. When Charlotte brung the drink over he indicated it was to go on his tab; I knocked it back and called for her to bring me a refresher.

I could tell this behaviour did not sit too well with him, but again he kept his feelings to himself. I love a strong silent man, and, our conversation at the Diner aside, it seemed that Keith fit that picture.

This time when Charlotte set my drink down in front of me I showed a little class, and sipped a bit from it's edge.

Keith kinda came out of his shell then, and got into askin' me how I came to be in this tiny out of the way dunghole; I had just started in to recount my life as a would be country superstar when my good friend Darius dropped his hand onto my shoulder.

I jumped in my seat, and catching my glass with a waving hand, I dropped it to the floor. Well, it would have been the floor if Keith hadn't been dead centre in the way. I'd drunk some of my bourbon but there was still a decent helping of chilly brown liquid to splash his shirt and tie.

By now I was feeling the drink more 'n I was used to; usually I'd have eaten a bite before commencing to drink, and the smooth liquor had hit my empty stomach like a freight train going off the tracks.

“Whoops!” was my brilliant conversational gambit; I could see that Keith wasn't happy, but he took a handkerchief from his pants' pocket and mopped away at his chest. This had the effect of making his shirt see through, and I couldn't help but hoot at the sight; hair and muscles up 'n' down!

I guess Keith was on kind of a slow burn by this point; what else was that I guess I knew it, but found it kind of funny. Sometimes you just gotta push and push again.

Darius had a bottle of Bud in his hand; I snatched it from him, and placing my thumb over its opening, I gave it a good shake, while pointing it at Keith.

“Woo hoo, redneck champagne!” I hollered as most of the beer in the bottle deposited itself, as froth, on Keith. Darius, mostly sober, took one look at him and took the straightest route away from our booth.

“You goddamn brat!” Even slow burning stuff let's go, sooner or later. “ I'm going to teach you a damn lesson.”

He took my arm in his huge paw, and, with a single solid pull, I was lying face down across his lap. I was still kind of confused, on account of the drink, but I did remember this position; Ma had placed me in to lick me with her mean old hairbrush, back when I wuz a kid.

Keith didn't need no hairbrush; his hand walloped into my butt. Back home the Principal had paddled me once, and it felt just like that!

His hand fell again, and I tried to roll off his knees, onto the floor. His other hand was around my waist and I got no joy from my attempts.

Each spank was making a mighty whacking noise; the jukebox had gone quiet between songs, and everyone in Lex's knew someone was getting' a hidin'. It din't take any too long for them to see that it was me.

Keith was a big intimidating sort of guy, I guess, 'cos none of my damn friends rushed to help me out.

I don't really know what I was saying as the pain in my ass roared past soreness into real breath taking agony, but I know I kept up my end of the conversation, with a lot of howls, and calls that he stop, 'n' let me up. He paid me no mind at all.

Honestly I don't think he hit me more'n 12 or 15 times; Ma would have kept spanking me for an age, but she wouldn't have made me dance around like he did. I clutched my fiery butt, and found that hurt too much, so I let it alone. But I needed to rub it, so I did. But that hurt more and...well, I danced my hot butt dance for a good few minutes before the pain began to subside.

I turned back to the booth, and there sat Keith, wet through with beer and bourbon, but otherwise looking like nothing had occurred. As I stepped over to him he shrugged; kind of, what do you expect if you misbehave?

I tried to sit alongside him, but m' butt was in no state for that; I jumped back to my feet, quick as a fox after that last egg in the henhouse.

I mumbled something about how sorry I was to be bad, and that I thought it'd be better if I went home, to sleep off everything.

Keith nodded wisely, and offered to walk me home; he did as he promised, mostly supporting me I guess, and at the door he gave my cheek a gentle kiss, before sayin' he'd see me at the Diner at lunchtime.

So, that's the story of how we met; it ain't how Keith tamed me tho'. That'd be another tale altogether.

Sadly I can't say my naughty days were behind me yet.

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