by Rue Chapman
"Explain it to me again."
He always sounds so patient, and calm. Volcanoes do that too, before they erupt.
"Well, it's like this... you told me to do it."
"I told you to?"
"Yes, you did. I was taking your advice."
"I told you to... when?"
Eruption getting closer. I can see the subtle signs - face going red, breathing shorter, eyes bulging, steam coming from ears; he'll snap soon, or have a stroke. I back towards the door. He steps sideways to block me. I back away to a safer distance. Truly safe distance at this moment would be somewhere in the next suburb.
"When... did... I ... tell... you?"
"Last week. You said, and I remember it distinctly, that it's a shame we've both got a bit of time off work coming up, and we're not going anywhere special."
"I meant a night out, a show, maybe a short trip up the coast."
"Well, you didn't make that clear. You just said 'somewhere special'. I remember it very clearly."
"Somewhere special - so you booked a trip to AFRICA?"
That steam is increasing. Explosion imminent. Take evasive action! Unfortunately, there's nowhere to evase to.
"Well... Africa's special. I've always wanted to go there."
"You didn't think to ask me first? Before you booked international travel?"
"You see... I saw a poster in the travel agent's window and it was sort of a snap decision."
"There's barely a month before we go! Do you have any idea what we have to do first?"
"Our passports are fine, I checked. And I've made the doctors appointments."
"Doctor?"
"For our shots."
"Shots?!"
Oh dear, I should have remembered - like most big strong men, he has a funny attitude towards needles.
"Um, yes - Hepatitis A and B - there's two lots of those; Typhoid, Tetanus, Meningococcal and Yellow Fever. We're ok for Polio, we had the vaccine when we were kids - isn't that lucky? And we start the malaria pills two days before we go."
"SHOTS?"
Am I not speaking clearly? I read up on all this, he should be pleased. He's always telling me I don't plan ahead.
"And I've already made my hair and nail appointments so I'll be all ready to go. And we'll need new clothes, of course. I'll start shopping tomorrow."
"I have to get SHOTS?"
I know, I know, he sounds like a slow learner. But he's got his good points, believe me. Perhaps not right now, though. I try to edge to the door again. One long arm reaches out and hooks me to his side.
"I'm going to spend the next month getting shots?"
"Um, just a few. And they'll all be in our arms, so that's a good thing, right?"
"Yes, a very good thing. I wouldn't want that cute little bottom of yours to get any nasty big old needles in it."
"Oh, er... good. How thoughtful."
"...because it's going to be blazing red for the next month."
"Now wait a minute, there's no need to be hasty."
"But I've just made a snap decision, too. I plan to snap my hand off your bare bottom."
I struggle wildly, pushing away to escape. It doesn't do one bit of good.
"NOOOOOOO!"
In one smooth movement he's sitting on one of the high stools from the breakfast bar. He's so tall he's able to sit comfortably. I hate this, I'm face down across his lap and I can't reach the floor with fingers or toes. It's not possible to keep your dignity when you're flailing around in the air. Then he pulls my skirt up. I feel it sliding up across my thighs, until it's bunched above my waist.
"No, wait - please, can't we talk about this?"
"It's a snap decision."
And then he starts SNAPPING his hand down on the seat of my panties. HARD. You can forget dignity now, I concentrate on kicking, wriggling, squealing and begging. I do all that very well.
"No! Ouch! No wait - OW! Stop dammit! Yeeowwch! No please!" And so on. I can do that for quite a while without repeating myself. I've had a lot of practice.
And then... his left arm curls around my waist and lifts me off his lap a little, and his other hand takes hold of my panties - white with little purple flowers today - and starts to peel them down. The sensation of your panties being taken from you always makes you feel so helpless and vulnerable. He takes his time, tweaking and tugging and peeling... and all too soon they're at my knees.
Then he takes a tighter hold, positioning me carefully so that my bottom - it's already stinging from the first part of the spanking - is high over his lap. He likes to push me forward a little so that he can aim right at my sit spots. So thoughtful. And he smacks. Hard.
I squeal. And wiggle. And yelp. And beg a lot. The word 'Sorry' features, and 'Please'. And he keeps going! This really stings, it hurts, the heat's rising, I'm burning! He really means this one to last. Finally, when I'm promising eternal good behaviour, he stops.
"Now, how was that for a snap decision?"
"Lousy."
SMACK!
"What was that?"
"OW! My bottom - it HURTS!"
"Good. Get used to it. Because every time I have to get a shot, you get a spanking. Just like this, or worse. That's my snap decision."
"But... that's not fair! Can't we talk about it?"
"For about as long as we talked about booking the trip. Oh yes, that would be... not at all. Yes?"
"But..."
SMACK!
"YES?"
"OW!" I sniffle and look pathetic. "Yes. Sir."
I can hear him smirking. He loves it that a spanking makes me say 'Sir'. I don't want to, it just happens.
"Good. I'm starting to like snap decisions."
He smacks me a few more times, just because he can. My poor bottom's burning now, I know I won't enjoy sitting down for quite a while.
"OWWWW!"
"Get used to it."
He has no empathy at all. And then he rests his hand on my poor tormented bottom. He's gloating at the heat, I know. I sniffle pathetically. He chuckles. No finer feelings. His hand pats my poor bottom, then strokes softly. That's a little better, a bit of soothing. His fingers trail in lazy circles around my cheeks. Mmmm.
Fingernails on tender skin, trails of fire. I wriggle. Teeny circles, larger ones, trailing around and across. More encouraging wiggles.
The fire on my skin is spreading as his fingers trail around my cheeks... between - oooh! - and then up and down my thighs... then up again... I let my legs slide apart. The boy deserves some encouragement. His fingertips circle, tickle the tops of my thighs, the inner thighs, moving higher. I wiggle a whole lot more, trying to entice him to explore further. I'm really burning now, that heat is settling in a whole lot deeper. His fingertips trace along the tops of my thighs, tracking the line where my knicker elastic sits. I wriggle more. I want more. I want him to touch... there. And my bones melt. Ohhh yes, that's exactly right, he tickles and probes, and I'm burning up and...
SMACK!
He sets me on my feet. "And let that be a lesson to you."
Excuse me? He's stopping now? He turns and walks away.
"GET BACK HERE!"
He stops, his back to me. "You want something?"
"Want? Of course I want!"
"Oh? What do you want?"
Darn him. He knows I find it hard to say some things, even now. "I want... you."
"Want me to do what?" Now he turns around, and he's grinning like a loon.
"I want you to do... me! Dammit, you know what I want. Please."
"Well, since you ask so nicely..."
And he helps that burning feeling to burn a whole lot wilder. Afterwards we snuggle together - we'd managed to reach the bed at some point, I can't remember when. I roll over a little.
"Ouch! You spanked me a lot, I'm still tender!"
"Get used to it, sweetie. Every time I get a shot, you get a spanking."
"You meant that?"
"I always mean what I say."
He does, too. Next time I book a trip, we're going somewhere that doesn't need vaccinations. Darn it. On the other hand, the after care is pretty amazing.
There's different kinds of pain. Now, I'm not weird, or anything. I'm not into pain. I mean, a spanking is something else entirely; with spanking, it's not about the pain, it's about the emotions and the rush and the wild exhilaration and the incredible sex afterwards and... Well, it's not the pain. I've taken some pretty hard spankings, and enjoyed them, but not because of the pain. But there's other pain that isn't like spanking pain at all. And it doesn't come with all the fun extras. I throbbed.
"It hurts!"
"Keep it up. And keep it still."
"But it hurts."
"I'll get you some more ice."
I throbbed some more. How could I be so stupid?
"Here you are." He put another cold pack on my ankle. "How's the wrist? And your knee?"
"Fine."
"Anywhere else sore?"
"No. Everywhere."
I throbbed. And pouted.
"Look, there's nothing you can do until tomorrow. Wait until after the X-rays. You heard what the doctor said, it's almost certain it's nothing more than a sprain."
"But we're supposed to be getting on a plane to Africa in less than two weeks! How could I be so stupid, so clumsy, I'm a totally useless idiot."
He just grunted and ignored my agony while he made me a cup of tea and collected some more cushions for my injured ankle. I lay and suffered nobly in silence.
"It's not like I even did it doing anything interesting. Hang gliding, that's interesting. Abseiling down a sheer cliff. Escaping a rampaging crocodile. Oh no, not me. I destroy my life just walking across a car park."
"Here. Drink it while it's hot." He put the tea on my bedside table. "Now just relax for a while."
"Oh sure, relax. Our trip is ruined, I've got things piling up at work, I can't do anything. Why not relax."
"Wait till we see what the doctor says. And until then you can do all sorts of things. You've got the laptop there, you can get some work done. Catch up on e-mails. Watch TV. Phone people. Sleep. Read." He pottered around the bedroom tidying up and ignoring me.
"Boring." I suffered in silence some more. "And it hurts. And I can't do anything I need to do. I can't go to the shops. I've got so much work to finish off before our trip."
"You don't need to go to the shops, you have more clothes than they do. You can finish off some work on the laptop and get some e-mails done. Now stop complaining."
"Complaining? Me? I never complain. I'm doing my best, being brave about all this and you don't care at all!"
He just grunted. Totally unfeeling.
I suffered in silence some more. "I can't do anything. I can't walk, I can't work. I can't travel. Can't even get spanked. No fun at all, just suffering."
Suddenly he dropped the clothes he was sorting, turned around and advanced towards the bed. "Let's see just how much you can do, shall we?"
He had that evil spanking twinkle in his eyes. I tried to wriggle away, hampered by my serious injuries. "Now wait a minute. You can't... the doctor said I have to keep my foot up."
"You will."
"No... wait... I don't..."
"Oh yes you do."
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