I wrote a thing yesterday. It’s only 2200 words, so I really can’t put a preview of it here without giving away the whole story, but I can tell you it’s about punishment. I am glad I got something written; it’s been a while since I’ve really had the urge to finish a story.
This is why I need people to commission custom stories — I’m not doing it for the money; I’m doing it for the joy of writing. It’s kind of the same reason I used to write fanfic: the characters and settings are pretty much already there; all I need to do is create a plot.
And, speaking of whooped asses, here’s a little something from a work in progress:
No amount of cursing or squirming could save Haley from the heavy, cracking sound of wood on bare flesh. Each swat was like fire, and she knew, as Jon continued spanking her, that this was a real punishment.
And it was working. Sometime around the tenth spank, Haley ceased to care about how much it hurt — a lot — because the knowledge that she’d disappointed Jon, that she’d gone back on her word, was enough to make tears well in her eyes. With each terrible POP!, Haley remembered what she’d done, remembered how grateful she was to Josh for all he was doing, remembered the sadness in his eyes — his eyes that were so similar to hers.
Except that hers were full of tears. She was crying, quietly at first, but as Jon spanked her she began to sob. “I’m sorry!” Haley choked out between yelps. “I’m sorry, Jon! I’m sorry!”
The POP! POP! POP! of the hairbrush just kept on coming.
Until it didn’t. Until Haley’s body stopped jerking from the impact of hairbrush on skin. Until Jon was rubbing her back, hushing her. “First part’s done,” he said. “Take a deep breath. First part’s done.”
Haley tried to do as Jon asked. The first few attempts were full of little gasps and hiccups, but eventually she managed to draw a full, shuddering breath and let it out in a sigh.
“Good girl,” Jon said, hand on her shoulder. “Keep breathing, okay?”
“Uh-huh.” She sniffed hard. “I’m sorry, Jon.”
Haley felt Jon withdraw his leg from under her. “Oh, God, please… I’ve had enough! I’m sorry!” He put the brush on the nightstand — it clattered a little — and she watched through still-blurred eyes as he picked up the belt. “I’m sorry, Jon! I’ll be good, I swear!”
He just shook his head and folded the belt in half, adjusting it to whatever he thought was the right length to whip her bottom.
Haley pressed her face to the bedspread and clenched the fabric in her hands. Jon tapped the belt on her bare bottom and she whimpered — the pause had allowed the burning agony of the hairbrush to sink in, and she had no idea how she was going to survive this.
“Let’s get this over with,” Jon said sadly.
An instant later, the belt whistled through the air.
An instant after that, a crack like a gunshot filled the room.
It brought along a thick stripe of agony right across the fullest part of Haley’s already-aching backside.
She screamed. But that didn’t stop Jon from laying another — CRACK! — “Fuuuuuuuck!” — lash on her ass.
The worst part, though, was that she knew she deserved every single one.
This WIP has been giving me fits for a few years; I wrote it as a custom story for a friend, and revising it to make it palatable to other readers hasn’t been easy. Maybe someday I’ll finish the revisions. Maybe.