F a s h i o n a b l y   L a t e

 

Slightly out of breath she knocked on the door. Quickly checking her watch she cursed under her breath. Due to the quietness of the hall she could hear footsteps from within the apartment. As clicking noises signified the unlocking of the door, she pasted a smile on her face in preparation.

“I’m sorry! I’m sorry. I’m so sorry!” she gushed apologetically as she scooted by. “I know I’m late.”

He shut the door and faced her with a serious expression on his face. “Yeah, you are.”

“I know, I know. I’m sorry,” she apologized again. Uncomfortable with his stiffness, she maintained her smile awkwardly. “I honestly did not mean to be this late tonight.”

“You’re always late,” he accused.

Attempting to alleviate the awkwardness she walked closer to him and wrapped her arms around his waist. “Are you mad?” she asked with a little voice.

“No, I’m not mad. I just wish you’d be on time for once,” he replied. The hug he gave her was rigid and brief.

“Think of it as being fashionably late,” she said, trying to lighten the mood. Her arms remained wrapped around him despite his lack of reception.

“Fashionably late is ten minutes, not twenty.”

“I won’t be late anymore,” she promised.

“You always say that.”

“Really, I’ll be on time from now on.”

His response was curt and hung heavily in the air. “I think you need a reminder.”

Understanding the meaning behind his words her body tensed. Eyes opening wide, she shook her head in disagreement. “No.”

“I think you do,” he said. Firmly putting both hands on her waist, he gently pushed her to stand an arm’s distance away from him.

“Wha… what about our dinner reservations?” she asked, stalling for time.

His answer was cool. “I called the restaurant and had our reservation pushed back an hour. That gives us,” he paused to look at his watch, “enough time for us to have a little talk.”

“No, I’ll remember by myself,” she replied. Feeling his strong hand take one of hers, she reluctantly allowed herself to be pulled towards the kitchen.

“I think I’ll help you,” he answered as pulled out a breakfast stool. Taking a seat, he pulled her closer to him.

Grabbing her knee-length skirt, he pulled it up, the semi-stiff material bunching together.

“No!” she whined, her hands attempting to lower her skirt back down. Receiving a stern look she relinquished her grip, allowing him to reveal pink lace panties.

Without giving them much consideration her carefully picked panties were lowered to her knees. She fought the urge to cover herself and lost. In the blink of an eye she found herself struggling for balance as he lifted her completely off the ground and placed her over his lap. Feeling as if she would pitch forward into the floor she grabbed the lower bar of the stool. Still endeavoring to regain her balance the first series of swats caught her unprepared. Unable to speak she merely gasped.

He stopped for a moment, and she took the opportunity to regain her voice. “I’m sorry!” she squeaked.

“Oh, you will be,” he answered nonchalantly.

“But I’m sorry now!” she insisted.

Just as she had known he would, he continued spanking her, placing each deliberate swat hard on her bottom. Small whimpers and gasps escaped through her lips as she gripped the bar tighter. Her feet unable to touch the floor, they kicked in the air as he focused on spanking the sensitive spot where her bottom met her thighs.

“Please,” she begged. “I’m sorry.”

“We’re not going to be late anymore, are we?” he asked.

“No, I won’t, I won’t. I swear to God, I won’t,” she answered.

“That’s right, because from now on you’re going to get spanked every single time you’re late,” he said, punctuating “every single time” with harder swats.

She sniffled, her eyes welling with tears. “Owww – It hurts!”

“You think this hurts? Just try being late again.”

The severity of the spanks he gave to her bottom increased, sending her into frantic wriggles and twists. Desperate to escape the burn his hand was inflicting, she pulled forward, trying to crawl off his lap. Unsuccessful, she pushed herself backwards, hoping to slide off his lap. Finding the second avenue also blocked by his strong grasp, and exhausted by her exertion, she returned to frenzied squirming.

“Stop! Please! I’m sorry!” she squealed loudly as his hand caught a particularly sensitive spot.

“You are?” He landed another whack to the previous area, and she let out a long, pitiful, and wordless cry.

“Are you?” he asked again, continuously spanking the same place.

“Yes!”

For a second his grip loosened, and she seized the moment to toss her, attempting to roll sideways off his lap.

He caught her instantly. “Where do you think you’re going?” he asked as he pulled her closer towards him, his hold on her tighter. With only a moments pause he carried on with her spanking.

“Pleaaase!” she begged.

Overwhelmed by the pain in her bottom she put a hand back to cover herself. Without missing a beat in the rhythm he was tattooing on her backside, he grabbed her wrist with one hand, pinning it to her back. Still desperate, she wiggled her free hand between the both of them, trying to catch his spanking hand with hers. Once again, he easily captured her second wrist, moving it to join its counterpart. She regretted her move instantly, feeling awkwardly unbalanced without her hands for support.

“You need to be on time,” he lectured. “It’s an inconvenience to anyone when you’re late.”

“I’ll be on time! I won’t be late!” she cried, her legs kicking furiously.

“It’s a bad habit,” he continued, “and I plan for it to stop today. Do you understand?”

“Yes! Yes! I promise! I won’t be late!”

“Just be sure…”

An excruciatingly hard flurry of spanks peppered her bottom, landing indiscriminately. What started as a whimper evolved into a prolonged squeal. Her legs kicked hysterically as she struggling to free her arms and herself from his secure grasp.

He stopped and rested his hand on her bottom. Her bottom throbbing she welcomed the cool touch. Still crying, she looked between the open bars of the stool, catching a glimpse of her tangled panties now at her ankles.

He helped her up and, motioned towards the bathroom. “Get cleaned up and we’ll go to dinner.”

Wordlessly she hurried away. Inside the bathroom she immediately rushed to the mirror. Pulling up her skirt she gasped; the deep redness that undoubtedly painted the rest of her bottom showing on the areas uncovered by her panties. Calming herself down, she fixed her make-up and brushed her hair. She emerged from the bathroom embarrassed, almost sure that her blushing face matched her bottom. Uncertain of what to do, she hovered near the door.

“Come here,” he said, opening his arms for her.

She ran to him, burying her face into his chest, enjoying the comfort of his hug. Still somewhat emotional she felt her tears being to rise again.

He petted her hair as he held her. After a few minutes his hand reached down to rub her bottom soothingly. “Come on,” he said, giving her a firm pat, “we don’t want to be late.”