by Cat with Matt, 2002
"I don't think this is a very good idea." He was handing me the keys to his car. "I mean, all I have is a permit. And... " I was searching for excuses. Anything to get out of driving.
"Right. That's why you're going to drive." He dropped his keys into my hand. "Practice. So you can take your test tomorrow."
"But what if... ?" I thought of all the possible things that could happen. I could hit another car. I could hit a curb and break a wheel. I could... "Tomorrow?!"
"You have been practicing, haven't you, Cat?" Uh oh... what was that look?
"Well... I... uhmmmm... " Think fast, Cat... "Yes, Matt, I have been practicing. Like you... uhmmm... suggested. Three times a week."
"Good girl." He gave me a playful swat, then walked to the passenger side and got in.
Oh boy. He just drove all the way from LA to Las Vegas. Of course he wouldn't feel like driving. And he came to see me. To help me get ready to take my driving test. He was my "licensed operator in front seat."
I got in. Buckled my seat belt. Checked mirrors, adjusted the seat. Did all the little things you're supposed to do when you get into a car. Took my time.
"Cat, are you thinking about something?"
I was sitting there, hands on the steering wheel, trying to remember which way to turn the wheel when you want to back out of a parking space and end up facing left. "Uhmmm... I was... just thinking," I said.
"Did you even hear what I asked you?"
Is it the opposite? Or turn left to go left? Geeeeez, why didn't I practice more? Before he came all the way out here. Did he just say something again? Can't he see I'M TRYING TO THINK?
"Yes, Matt?" I turned to look at him.
"How many times have you been out driving? Since you got your permit?"
"Well, I don't know. I mean, how am I supposed to remember... ?"
"Three times a week? Let's see, you got your permit a month and a half ago. That's six weeks. Six times three is eighteen. That many times? More? Less?"
I hate the way he figures things out all the time. So... logical. I wonder if all engineers are like that?
"Cat?"
I try to smile. Smiling works. Sometimes gets you out of all kinds of trouble. "Matt... "
"Out of the car." He gets out, slams the door. This is not good. He walks over to my side, opens the door. "Now, Cat."
I scramble out, feel another swat, this one not quite so playful.
"Owww... " I pout. "That hurt." Now I'm upset. Mainly with myself. I know I'm wrong, but can't bring myself to say so. I know I should apologize, especially for... not telling him the truth from the beginning.
"Let's go." He takes my hand, pulls me alongside him.
"Where... ?"
"Back to your apartment."
"But I don't want to go... " Uh oh... what was... that look?
We climb the three flights of stairs in silence. I can't find my keys. I drop my purse. My hands are trembling, and I don't even know why. I finally find them (in my coat pocket) and open the door.
The cats sense trouble and disappear. They're no help! We'll see who gets up at 4AM to feed them next time...
"Okay, Cat. So you weren't telling the truth when you said you had been practicing?"
"I... ... .uhmmmmm... ..well... ." I saw a pair of sparkly green eyes peeking out from under the bed. They seemed to say, 'You're on your own, dude.'
"Okay, I know the answer to that question." He looked around. "Next question. Do you have a hairbrush?"
"Why do you ask? Do you need to brush your hair?" I was puzzled.
"Young lady, you're already in a lot of trouble." He spun me around, gave me a few sharp smacks on my bottom.
"Matt... ... ..ow! What are you... ... .?"
"I want you to go get your hairbrush and bring it to me. Then I am going to show you what happens to naughty young ladies who don't do what they're supposed to do and then try to lie about it."
I went into the bedroom. I thought about...
"And don't even think of trying to lock yourself in. You can't stay in there forever and when you finally come out... " He left the rest unsaid.
I found my brush and handed it to him. It was one of those big wooden ones. It looked so much like a... a... paddle. Funny, I had never noticed that before.
"Matt, I'm really sorry. I... " He led me to the sofa, pulled me over his knee.
I felt his arm around my waist, holding me. "Do you know why I am going to spank you?"
"Because... I... " I couldn't speak. I could hardly breathe.
I don't know why I was so surprised. He had often mentioned that he had spanked girlfriends, even his ex-wife. But I never thought he would... well... spank me. Although he had "threatened"... a couple of times. Well, not really threatened. Said something like "If I had been there I would have spanked you."
And now he was here. And he was going to spank me.
"Because... " He prompted. I could feel him tapping my bottom, lightly.
"Because I didn't practice my driving. After I said I was going to. And when you asked me... I... lied about it." I swallowed.
"Do you deserve this spanking, Cat?"
"Please don't spank me, Matt. I'll... " I didn't know what to say. What could I say? I was wrong. I tried to sit up. If we could just talk...
He pushed me back down, gently. "Cat? I'm waiting."
"Yes." It was so difficult to say it.
The first smack hurt so much. Then there was the second. And third. I lost count after fifteen. I thought he had stopped but then felt him push my skirt up over my hips. I struggled, tried to pull it back down, but he held me tight and scolded me while he spanked. About responsibility and telling the truth or something. Honestly, I didn't really listen. I was too busy being very aware of how sore my bottom was getting.
This can't get any worse. My eyes were stinging, but I was not going to cry.
He stopped again. I think he had asked me a question. I don't know I couldn't really think. I felt his fingers dip beneath the elastic of my panties.
"No... ... You can't!" I really struggled. I put my hand back, trying to keep him from pulling my panties down. "Please, Matt... please don't... ... " I don't know if I made any sense after that. I felt him take my wrist in his left hand, hold it against my back. I buried my face in the sofa cushions.
He wasn't using the hairbrush anymore. But it still stung. I felt so... helpless. Vulnerable. I could feel my panties tangled around my knees. I started to cry, the sofa cushions muffling the sound, absorbing my tears.
He was rubbing my bottom. Helping me sit up. On his lap. I had my arms around his neck, still crying a little onto his shirt. He didn't seem to mind. He was stroking my hair. Telling me it was okay, everything was okay now.
Everything was okay now.
"I don't think this is a very good idea." He was handing me the keys to his car. "I mean, all I have is a permit. And... " I was searching for excuses. Anything to get out of driving.
"Right. That's why you're going to drive." He dropped his keys into my hand. "Practice. So you can take your test tomorrow."
"But what if... ?" I thought of all the possible things that could happen. I could hit another car. I could hit a curb and break a wheel. I could... "Tomorrow?!"
"You have been practicing, haven't you, Cat?" Uh oh... what was that look?
"Well... I... uhmmmm... " Think fast, Cat... "Yes, Matt, I have been practicing. Like you... uhmmm... suggested. Three times a week."
"Good girl." He gave me a playful swat, then walked to the passenger side and got in.
Oh boy. He just drove all the way from LA to Las Vegas. Of course he wouldn't feel like driving. And he came to see me. To help me get ready to take my driving test. He was my "licensed operator in front seat."
I got in. Buckled my seat belt. Checked mirrors, adjusted the seat. Did all the little things you're supposed to do when you get into a car. Took my time.
"Cat, are you thinking about something?"
I was sitting there, hands on the steering wheel, trying to remember which way to turn the wheel when you want to back out of a parking space and end up facing left. "Uhmmm... I was... just thinking," I said.
"Did you even hear what I asked you?"
Is it the opposite? Or turn left to go left? Geeeeez, why didn't I practice more? Before he came all the way out here. Did he just say something again? Can't he see I'M TRYING TO THINK?
"Yes, Matt?" I turned to look at him.
"How many times have you been out driving? Since you got your permit?"
"Well, I don't know. I mean, how am I supposed to remember... ?"
"Three times a week? Let's see, you got your permit a month and a half ago. That's six weeks. Six times three is eighteen. That many times? More? Less?"
I hate the way he figures things out all the time. So... logical. I wonder if all engineers are like that?
"Cat?"
I try to smile. Smiling works. Sometimes gets you out of all kinds of trouble. "Matt... "
"Out of the car." He gets out, slams the door. This is not good. He walks over to my side, opens the door. "Now, Cat."
I scramble out, feel another swat, this one not quite so playful.
"Owww... " I pout. "That hurt." Now I'm upset. Mainly with myself. I know I'm wrong, but can't bring myself to say so. I know I should apologize, especially for... not telling him the truth from the beginning.
"Let's go." He takes my hand, pulls me alongside him.
"Where... ?"
"Back to your apartment."
"But I don't want to go... " Uh oh... what was... that look?
We climb the three flights of stairs in silence. I can't find my keys. I drop my purse. My hands are trembling, and I don't even know why. I finally find them (in my coat pocket) and open the door.
The cats sense trouble and disappear. They're no help! We'll see who gets up at 4AM to feed them next time...
"Okay, Cat. So you weren't telling the truth when you said you had been practicing?"
"I... ... .uhmmmmm... ..well... ." I saw a pair of sparkly green eyes peeking out from under the bed. They seemed to say, 'You're on your own, dude.'
"Okay, I know the answer to that question." He looked around. "Next question. Do you have a hairbrush?"
"Why do you ask? Do you need to brush your hair?" I was puzzled.
"Young lady, you're already in a lot of trouble." He spun me around, gave me a few sharp smacks on my bottom.
"Matt... ... ..ow! What are you... ... .?"
"I want you to go get your hairbrush and bring it to me. Then I am going to show you what happens to naughty young ladies who don't do what they're supposed to do and then try to lie about it."
I went into the bedroom. I thought about...
"And don't even think of trying to lock yourself in. You can't stay in there forever and when you finally come out... " He left the rest unsaid.
I found my brush and handed it to him. It was one of those big wooden ones. It looked so much like a... a... paddle. Funny, I had never noticed that before.
"Matt, I'm really sorry. I... " He led me to the sofa, pulled me over his knee.
I felt his arm around my waist, holding me. "Do you know why I am going to spank you?"
"Because... I... " I couldn't speak. I could hardly breathe.
I don't know why I was so surprised. He had often mentioned that he had spanked girlfriends, even his ex-wife. But I never thought he would... well... spank me. Although he had "threatened"... a couple of times. Well, not really threatened. Said something like "If I had been there I would have spanked you."
And now he was here. And he was going to spank me.
"Because... " He prompted. I could feel him tapping my bottom, lightly.
"Because I didn't practice my driving. After I said I was going to. And when you asked me... I... lied about it." I swallowed.
"Do you deserve this spanking, Cat?"
"Please don't spank me, Matt. I'll... " I didn't know what to say. What could I say? I was wrong. I tried to sit up. If we could just talk...
He pushed me back down, gently. "Cat? I'm waiting."
"Yes." It was so difficult to say it.
The first smack hurt so much. Then there was the second. And third. I lost count after fifteen. I thought he had stopped but then felt him push my skirt up over my hips. I struggled, tried to pull it back down, but he held me tight and scolded me while he spanked. About responsibility and telling the truth or something. Honestly, I didn't really listen. I was too busy being very aware of how sore my bottom was getting.
This can't get any worse. My eyes were stinging, but I was not going to cry.
He stopped again. I think he had asked me a question. I don't know I couldn't really think. I felt his fingers dip beneath the elastic of my panties.
"No... ... You can't!" I really struggled. I put my hand back, trying to keep him from pulling my panties down. "Please, Matt... please don't... ... " I don't know if I made any sense after that. I felt him take my wrist in his left hand, hold it against my back. I buried my face in the sofa cushions.
He wasn't using the hairbrush anymore. But it still stung. I felt so... helpless. Vulnerable. I could feel my panties tangled around my knees. I started to cry, the sofa cushions muffling the sound, absorbing my tears.
He was rubbing my bottom. Helping me sit up. On his lap. I had my arms around his neck, still crying a little onto his shirt. He didn't seem to mind. He was stroking my hair. Telling me it was okay, everything was okay now.
Everything was okay now.
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