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“Something came up unexpectedly, and I’ll be out of town for work over the weekend,” Charlie told me on Thursday evening. “I need a favor.” He was at my door, suitcase in hand.
“Yes…?” I said tentatively.
“I need you to keep Heather in her place for me while I’m gone.”
I felt the blood drain from my face. “And by that, you mean you want me to check on the house and text you if anything happens?” I guessed conservatively. Charlie chuckled at me.
“No. I’ll give you my number, but please don’t reach out to me unless it’s an emergency.”
“Then what…?” I trailed off as he turned his suitcase around, unzipped the front pocket, and withdrew a familiar wooden paddle, a thick wooden ruler, a leather strap, and a tri-folded piece of paper. He handed them to me in a neat stack.
“Those are the rules, along with her work schedule and my cell number. If she steps out of line, I need you to correct her swiftly and firmly. I’ll warn you, she’s likely to test your resolve. If she does, you may need to escalate her punishment. Are you up to it?”
He said it so matter-of-factly and asked his question so casually that I simply nodded before I could think better of it.
“I’ve instructed her to check in with you by 11 each night. If she does not, is 11:15 too late for you go over to make sure she is home and see to her for neglecting the check-in?”
I cleared my throat as I accepted the stack he’d brought me. “No, it’s not too late,” I said.
“Good, thank you. And one more thing. If she gets out of hand, starts smarting off or acting outrageous, please feel free to take liberties to address it as you see fit. You’ve already seen me use more methods than just those,” he nodded toward what he’d brought me, “and there’s a cane in the coat closet if you need it. And remember,” he smirked, “she can take more than you think. A lot more. If you think you’re being too hard on her, she’s probably enjoying it. If you need to punish her, push her as far as you’re comfortable with, and then push her some more. You only need to stop if she uses the safe word. Got it?”
I swallowed. “Are you sure you want me to do this? That she…?”
Charlie was already turning to walk away. “I’m certain. And as for her, well, she asked for you.”
Her first infractions happened Friday night. Heather’s curfew was hours after the end of her shift; plenty of time to grab dinner with her friends if she wanted to. Unfortunately, she didn’t come home until much later, past 2am. Plus, as I watched her pull her car into the drive, I could see that she was holding her phone up for a call, talking and laughing with her friends on speaker. She was still on the phone with them when she got out and moseyed to the door as if everything was fine.
Her eyes widened as she opened the door to find me in her living room. Charlie had noted the location of a spare key after the list of rules.
“Hang up the phone,” I said sternly, and was pleasantly surprised when she did. I didn’t show it, though; my jaw was tight with irritation, though my heart raced in anticipation for what was coming next.
“You’re late.” I said, and Heather’s wide eyes blinked fast, shifting from surprise to feigning innocence.
“Just a little,” she said with a careful smile.
“Hours,” I disagreed, “and talking bursa escort on the phone while you’re driving? You know you could be ticketed for that, right?” I asked.
“It was on speaker!” She said defensively.
“That doesn’t change the law,” I reminded her.
“Oh come on, Aidan,” she said, her tone shifting with a note of defiance, “you can’t really punish me just for being a little late and talking on the phone.”
“I can and I will,” I told her, stepping towards her, “and stop trying to minimize it when three and a half hours is far more than ‘a little’ late.”
She stepped back and to the side, her eyes flicking to what I presumed was their bedroom door. She was slowly removing her heels to place them by the shoe rack, each movement shifting her gradually away from me. She was wearing a miniskirt again, this one tight over her upper thighs. Suddenly, she broke out into a run, but I was ready. I chased after her, catching the bedroom door with a heavy palm before it slammed in my face as Heather squealed with playful fright.
“Is this just a game to you?” I asked angrily as I shoved the door open. “I have to get up for work. I don’t have time for this shit at half past two in the morning.”
Her eyes were wide again as she retreated toward the bed, which had been placed on a platform so that it rose to her hip. When she backed up against it, I saw her glance down in surprise as she felt the handle of the ruler paddle against her leg.
“Oh yeah,” I told her, smirking, “Charlie told me all about your little tricks. You’re getting extras for running and trying to shut me out.” With that, I grabbed her arm and turned her roughly so she was facing the bed, then reached to the back of her head and forcefully gripped a handful of hair. With my fingers in her soft hair and the other hand moving to the center of her back, I pushed her down, bending her over the edge of the mattress. Keeping her hair wrapped around my fingers, I used the other hand to yank her skirt over her ass, revealing a hot pink lace thong. Wasting no time, I slapped her ass hard and she gasped.
“Did you know Charlie asked me to look after you this weekend?” I asked her fiercely.
“Yes,” she said, her voice shaking. I slapped her on the same side.
“Did you know your curfew was at 11?”
“Yes,” she confirmed, and I slapped the left side a third time. She sucked in a breath.
“Did you know I would be waiting here for you?”
At that, she moaned, and I pulled harder at her hair, eliciting a whimper, then slapped the same side again.
“Did you wear this lacy thong tonight, knowing I would see it when you came home late on purpose?” I asked, running my fingers over the top of the fabric. Her pelvis jolted forward and she panted. I’d barely hit her so far, but her body was responding to my touch with an intensity that betrayed her intentions.
“Heather,” I said darkly, my fingers closing around the lace. She whimpered again. “Are you trying to provoke me?” I slowly pulled at her thong, stretching it away from her skin and down the tops of her thighs, revealing that she was already soaked from merely thinking of her upcoming punishment. I let the fabric drop to the floor around her ankles and picked up the ruler paddle, pressing it to the bursa eskort sit spot on her right side. She shifted in anticipation.
“Answer the question, Heather,” I said, leaning so I spoke directly into her ear with a tone that was low and deathly calm.
“W-what?” She asked breathlessly.
“Are you trying to provoke me?” I asked again. “Do you want me to spank you?”
This time, her “Yes” came out somewhere between a whisper and a plea, as if she were confessing to a shameful crime.
“Good,” I said, rubbing the ruler paddle against the skin of her ass. “Because I’m not going easy on you this time.”
With that, I began spanking her hard with the ruler paddle, and the surprise had her crying out right from the start as I held her down against the bed by her hair. By the time I reached 20, she was panting hard as well as soaking wet. I set the ruler paddle down and her body relaxed, as if the punishment was over. Instead of letting her up, I lifted the leather strap from beside the ruler paddle.
As soon as she felt the leather against her hot, pink skin, she tensed again.
“W-wait,” she said, concern in her voice. “You’re not really going to…”
“What, make good on my promise not to go easy on you this time around?”
“I only came home late,” she pleaded.
“No, you also drove distracted and ran from me to avoid your punishment. I wonder, what would Charlie do if you tried to avoid a punishment?”
She didn’t reply, and that told me all I needed to know. Not only would Charlie spank and strap her for coming home late and breaking the law; I’d guessed he would also cane her for running, and this was my confirmation. Did she know he’d told me about the cane?
“Please, please, nooo,” she howled on number five. I ignored her cries as I brought the strap down again on her reddening ass with a satisfying THWAP. I knew her game now. A lot of these reactions were just for show. I was determined to send a message: I was not someone who would be easily played with. Moving the strap over the sensitive skin at the top of her right thigh, I paused for a moment or two and let her take a couple deep breaths. When I brought it down hard again with another loud THWAP, she screamed.
“Aidan, no,” she begged, crying as I brought the strap to the sit spot on the left side and rested it there gently for a moment. “Pleeeaase, Aidan,” she whined, but still she didn’t utter the safe word. THWAP! This one landed closer to her inner thigh and she bucked against the mattress.
As I set the strap down, I considered my options. She was crying softly, but her sex was swollen and dripping with need. She was still enjoying this.
“Stay here,” I told her as I disentangled my fingers from her hair, “Or there will be hell to pay.”
When I returned holding the cane from the living room coat closet, she was still mostly in place, but her arms had moved. As I approached, I saw that her arms were underneath her and her fingers were between her legs, furiously rubbing at her clit as she rocked her hips against the bed.
“You little slut!” I growled, and she gasped, jolting and pulling her arms out from under her. I grabbed them and pulled her wrists together with my left hand, holding them against the small of her back, pressing her face into the mattress.
“What do you think you’re doing?” I asked as she squirmed under me.
“I-I’m sorry!” She said immediately, and I rolled my eyes.
“Oh no you’re not,” I retorted, “but you’re about to be.”
With that, I shifted behind her, lifting the cane and lining it up against her upper thighs. She gasped.
“Oh no, no, please!” She protested, as I brought the cane down hard with a CRACK against her upper thighs.
She screamed for the second time that night, pulling against my restraining hand.
CRACK! The cane struck a second time, now in the center of her ass, and she sobbed. I could see the stripes it left. When I struck her with it a third time with another resounding CRACK between the first two, the fight left her and her entire body relaxed. I let her hands drop and set down the cane.
“Please, Aidan, please, please…” she was whimpering quietly, her hands at her sides, palms pressed to the mattress under her. I wasn’t hitting her anymore, wasn’t even touching her with any implement, but she was still begging me to stop. Or… she was begging me for something. I placed my hand on her upper thigh gently this time, feeling the fiery hot skin and the raised welt beneath my palm. Had I gone too hard on her? She hadn’t used her safe word… still, I felt tender toward her now, despite my earlier irritation. It was like I wanted to care for her after everything I’d put her through.
“Please,” she whispered again, shifting herself so that my hand was closer to her center, where I could see her aching with need. I ached, too, seeing how ready she was, hearing how badly she wanted to be touched there. I pictured my knuckles brushing against her swollen labia, my thumb rubbing against her clit, the feeling of her soft, wet core against my fingertips as they entered her…
I shook my head, clearing the vision. Instead, I pulled back, lifting the cane again. When I lay it over her ass, she didn’t protest. Instead, she rose her ass to meet it, rocking her hips so that her skin moved against it. Instead of striking her with it again, I moved it down so that it pressed against her core and the backs of her thighs. She panted softly and rocked against it, seeking more sensation. Slowly, I pivoted it, turning the cane until it was parallel with her legs, still pressed against her sex. She moaned in response, pressing herself more firmly against it, and I held it steady for her, even angled it down toward the mattress so that it rubbed against her clit. Her moan this time was higher in pitch, and I knew she was getting close.
I began moving the cane with her as she rocked, seeing and hearing the way her wetness slid against it, letting the tip of it graze her entrance. Suddenly she was peaking, her moans turning to high, desperate pleas, reaching a crescendo as she cried out, then shifting to satisfied hums as she settled back down. Her heavy panting slowed into deep, languid breaths, and by the time my daze was beginning to clear, I realized she was asleep, still bent over the edge of the bed. I set the cane down and moved to the side of her, gently grasping her around the ribcage and sliding her carefully up the bed until her head was on the pillow.
I went to work quietly putting away the implements and wiping the cane clean before replacing it in the closet. With one glance back toward the bedroom, I slipped out the front door, locking it behind me, and made my way home, my mind reeling with a rush of ecstasy and guilt.
What had I just done?
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