Warning this story contains controversal force-fantasy content.
"You've been a bad, bad girl."
Mitch grabbed me as soon as I walked in the front door, and the shock of it frightened me; for just a moment, I wasn't sure it was him. Then I felt his arms tighten around me and his breath was warm in my ear, and I smiled as I leaned my head back against his chest.
"What are you talking about?"
My voice was slightly breathless; one of his hands had left my waist to go to my breast, and he was lightly pinching the nipple in a way that was making my head swim.
"What did I tell you this morning, Krissy?" Mitch murmured in my ear as his hand slid down the front of my body and his fingers slipped into the top of my low-cut jeans. His other hand stayed on my breast, and he didn't need to restrain me anymore; I wouldn't have moved even if I could have. I struggled to think past the haze of desire fogging my mind.
"I don't remember ..."
I could feel Mitch smile against my neck, and his fingers plucked at the elastic on the thong I was wearing underneath my jeans.
"I told you no panties." He took a fold of skin between his teeth and bit me, just hard enough to hurt, and a surge of lust arrowed from my head to a certain spot directly between my legs. "Didn't I?"
I remembered now, and a sliver of fear broke through the desire. I also remembered what he had said he would do to me if he caught me with panties on at the end of the day, and I said nervously, "Come on, baby, you weren't serious -"
Mitch let go of me, pushed me away from him and then grabbed me again, turning me roughly around and staring into my eyes, his expression grim. He shook his head, and one corner of his hard, sexy mouth turned up. He jerked me toward him and kissed me brutally, in spite of the fear I responded. He could always make me respond.
"You ought to know by now, Krissy," he said against my mouth, "that I'm always serious where that gorgeous ass of yours is concerned."
I tried to pull away from him, but he wouldn't let me go. "You know what I have to do, don't you?"
I looked at him in dismay, and he smiled, gently, and let go of me.
"Get into the bedroom. Take your clothes off and wait for me."
I was beginning to be really frightened, and I tried a tentative smile. "Come on, Mitch, quit it. You're scaring me."
He seized me again; one strong arm went around my waist, and his other hand came down on my denim-covered ass, hard.
"Good." His voice was as hard as the slap had been. "You should be scared. You're going to find out what happens when you don't listen to me."
He gave me a push, and his hands weren't gentle now. "Get going. You don't want to make it worse than it is already, do you?"
I turned around and looked at him, my eyes wide and my breath coming fast. The determined expression on his face made another rush of lust shoot through me, and for a moment my knees went weak. Mitch put his hands on his hips and jerked his head in the direction of the bedroom.
"Get going, Krissy. Now. I don't want to have to tell you again."
I stared at him and he smiled again, nodding. My feet began to move of their own accord, and before I knew it I was in the bedroom, closing the door and standing indecisively in the middle of the room, trying to decide whether he was really serious.
He's just playing, any minute now he'll stop this -
"Are you taking your clothes off?" I heard Mitch's voice through the door and jumped, my heart beginning to beat double time. "If you're not naked by the time I get in there you're going to be really sorry, Krissy."
My fingers flew to the button on my jeans and I undid it and slid the tiny zipper down, pushing the jeans to my knees and then my ankles. I almost had the tee shirt over my head when I heard the door begin to open, and I tore it off and flung it aside, undoing my bra as quickly as I could. When Mitch came into the room I was standing by the bed, trembling, my arms crossed over my breasts, and he sauntered over to me, a rueful smile on his face. He hooked one finger in the thong I was still wearing and looked at me.
"Krissy, Krissy," he said, shaking his head regretfully, and I was too frightened to respond. His fingers tightened on the elastic and before I knew what was happening he had ripped the panties right off my body and there was a red line on my hip where the elastic dug painfully into my skin. Mitch dangled the torn scrap of nylon in front of my eyes for a moment, then held it to his nose, inhaled deeply, and crushed it in his fist.
"God, I love the smell of your pussy," he told me, and another shock of desire surged through me. He dropped the ruined panties on the floor and seized my wrists, yanking them out and away from my chest.
"These are mine," he said, his eyes growing heavy with desire as he dipped his head to take one hard nipple in his mouth. As his tongue caressed it expertly I swayed on my feet, my eyes closing and my breath beginning to come in ragged gasps. Mitch raised his head and kissed me, a normal, gentle kiss, and for a moment relief filled me: he was joking.
A second later that notion was dispelled when he bent to the other nipple and sucked it greedily into his mouth, biting down just hard enough to really frighten me. I tried to jerk away and immediately his hands released my wrists to come down hard on my hips.
"Don't you fucking move." The flat quality of his voice started my heart racing again, and tears filled my eyes.
"Mitch, please - "
He looked into my eyes, and the words died in my throat.
"Please?" he asked. "Please what, Krissy? Are you begging for mercy?"
I stared at him in astonishment. Was this really happening? Who was this? Where was my loving, gentle protector?
"Begging for mercy?" I repeated in a trembling voice, and Mitch smiled; a cold, cruel smile that didn't reach his eyes. He nodded.
"Yeah. Do you want me to go easy on you? Is that what you're saying?"
Tears spilled out of my eyes and he reached out and gently wiped one away with the tip of his index finger. I nodded, trying not to cry out loud, and he cupped the side of my face gently in his palm.
"I'll think about it, babe," he said, and kissed me. "Now go and get that chair over there." He inclined his head toward the chair that stood in front of the low, wide dresser, where I sat in the morning to put on my makeup.
"Why?" My voice was a terrified whisper, and his voice was short when he answered.
"Just do it, Krissy. You're starting to piss me off."
He placed his hand against my bare back and pushed, and I stumbled on my way to the dresser. When I reached it, I picked up the chair - a stool, really, with a curved wire back. I brought it over to where Mitch was standing and placed it on the floor, still trying to convince myself that this wasn't really happening, that any second he was going to break into that distinctive laugh of his and tell me it had all been a joke.
When he began to unbuckle his belt I couldn't stop the words that spilled out: "What are you doing?"
He didn't answer, but began to pull the belt out of the loops of his jeans, and before I could stop myself I grabbed his arm.
"Mitch, what are you doing?"
He shook off my hand and grabbed my shoulder. "What I told you I would if I came home and found you wearing panties. Now bend over the chair."
My heart cascaded into a runaway frenzy, and I felt, quite clearly, that I was in the middle of a bad dream.
"You're not serious -" I began, and that was when he tangled one hand in my hair and jerked my head back.
"What will it take to convince you, Krissy?"
Mitch's eyes stared into mine, and it was as if his belonged to a stranger; there was no tenderness there at all. "You better believe I'm fucking serious. Now do what I told you to do."
His hand tightened unbearably for a moment, pulling hard on the roots of my hair, and then he let go, pushing me over to the chair. Breathless, my heart hammering against my ribs, I bent over the short back of the chair.
He won't really do it - this is crazy, he's not really going to hit me -
When I felt the belt snap against the bare skin of my upraised buttocks I let out a cry and began to straighten up. I was more startled than hurt, but now that I knew he intended to mete out the punishment he had promised I didn't intend to cooperate.
Mitch's hand descended on my shoulder, hard, and he bent over me and breathed in my ear.
"If you get up, or if you try to get away, I'll make it much worse for you, Krissy. Worse than you can imagine. You understand me?"
I couldn't respond; I couldn't even think. The panic rushing through me made everything seem far away and dreamlike, and I just froze, feeling the weight of him pushing down on me. His hand tightened on my skin and he shook me gently.
"Understand?" he repeated, and at the impatient tone of his voice I nodded frantically.
"Yes, I understand," I whispered, and he kissed my temple.
"Good girl. Now stay still."
Mitch stepped away from me again and I began to shake, waiting for the pain. After a moment the belt descended on my backside again, and this time it hurt. A lot.
"Count."
I wondered if I'd heard him correctly, and I repeated in a faint voice, "Count?"
"Yeah." His voice was impatient again. "Count the strokes. Out loud. Which one was that?"
"Uh - two?" I said, and he corrected me.
"That was one. Here comes number two." The belt snapped against my ass again, and I let out a gasp of pain.
"Two," I said in a trembling voice, trying desperately not to cry. It seemed very important to remain in control, though I didn't really understand why. I cried out involuntarily as the belt came down again; this time it really hurt.
"Three." Again, harder.
"F-Four." Harder.
"Five." Harder still.
"Oh God, Mitch, stop, please -"
"Which one was that, Krissy? Or do we have to start all over again?"
"Six. Mitch -"
The belt descended again, harder than ever, and the pain grew worse.
"Seven! It hurts, oh God -"
He laughed, a sound without humor. "I know it does. It's supposed to."
The belt came down again, and I jumped in agony.
"Eight. Jesus, please - "
This time I could hear it snaking through the air, a thin, ominous sound, and when it came down on my red and tender skin I screamed and began to plead.
"Stop! Please!"
"Which one was that? Right now."
"Nine! Stop, Mitch, oh God please stop!"
The belt whickered through the air.
"Ten!"
My voice blurred with tears; I was crying uncontrollably, wondering how he could do this to me, wondering why he didn't care, and when I heard the small clinking sound of the buckle dropping to the carpet relief filled me.
Thank God oh thank Christ oh my ass -
Then Mitch's hands were on me, kneading and squeezing the raw skin, and I let out another weak scream and cried helplessly. When he finally spoke again I couldn't believe what he said.
"Tell me thank you, Krissy."
"Wh-what?"
"You heard me. Tell me thank you for punishing you."
I squeezed my eyes shut and surrendered.
"Thank you for p-punishing me, Mitch."
Mitch put his hands on my shoulders and pulled gently, bringing me to a standing position and turning me around. I was so ashamed; I couldn't look at him, and he slipped his fingers under my chin and tilted my head up until he was looking into my swimming eyes.
"You're welcome, Krissy," he said softly, kissing me and then drawing me into his arms. I melted against him, breathing in shuddering gasps, and he held me tightly.
"I did go easy on you, you know," he told me, and I was incredulous at the words.
"What do you mean?"
There was the slightest hint of resentment in my voice, and he squeezed me warningly, the flat of his hand slapping one sore buttock.
"I didn't use the buckle," he said gently, as if it was a gift I should be grateful for. "Unless you're a good girl from now on, next time I will."
Continue to Parts II & III
Originally published January 2006 - "Spanked!"