On Sunday

December 2007

"Into the bedroom now," he told her. "Scoot!"

As she scooted he laid down the heavy paddle and followed, trying hard not to watch as she removed her blouse, though his eyes longed for her. Not time yet to mix fantasies. Left only in her bra she climbed onto the bed, asking, "Up, or?" before realizing that it was her decision. She knelt and lowered her shoulders, leaving her punished bottom high.

As he approached and reached for his belt he was struck with uncommon clarity by a memory from last February – particularly odd because the situations bore such little resemblance. It was Sunday, true, but this room was bright and warm; she was very nearly naked; her bottom was claret and burgundy. Even his belt was a different type. And still...

Some students had cancelled and as an alumnus she had scored two spaces at the University ski condo – a windfall of mixed merit. Considerably cheaper than other mid-season lodgings, the room held two sets of bunk beds, though thankfully they had it to themselves. The shared bathroom was cramped and chilly, the hot tub crowded and "sound privacy" non-existent. She'd even earned herself an additional spanking by unintentionally apologizing – twice – after he'd told her she needed to stop.

They'd been skiing and were tired, needing to eat and shed a few of their many layers of clothing when she'd turned off the light and backed him against the ladder of one bed. "Oh, how I wish you could spank me," she bemoaned lowly.

"There'll be plenty of time for that," he assured her, snuggling her in under his open jacket. "You won't miss a single one of them."

"Are you tired, or?"

In response he trailed a finger from her throat to her navel, suspending his breath and her own.

Giggling, she unfastened her pants and lowered them maybe twelve inches. "Just like this," she invited, turning, bending, continuing to push layer after layer downward. Though not yet six the room was desperately dark. Her winter-pale bottom caught the available light and shone like a sliver of moon on a cloudless night. He rubbed, patting as firmly as he soundlessly could, massaging her cheeks with palm and thumb. He reached for his belt, unbuckling it but leaving it in the loops, shucking pants, thermal and regular underwear, raising shirttails and t-shirt and whatever else stood between them. She hadn't made a sound audible more than three feet away, which is not to say she hadn't wanted to.

Today his belt came out and his pants stayed fastened. He looked at the clock, ten till four. She needed to be back at church by five, would want to start fixing her make-up and retrieving her clothes by 4:30. Ten minutes to strap her would leave plenty of time; he didn't have to hurry. He'd start with it doubled, the way she liked.