I remixed the alphabet yesterday morning and came up with a 2500-word short story. Here is a little bit of it.
Terry felt Philip readjust himself, and then cool wood found her bottom. It felt like a small item — a paddle or a hairbrush; it was too big to be his wooden spoon. Probably a paddle. “The scene lasted an hour, right?”
“Yes, sir.” Shit, was he going to paddle her for an hour?
She felt rather than saw him nod, and he made a small affirmative noise.
“Sixty swats for the beating, then. Sixty more for what you let him do afterward. And thirty for how long you waited.”
That seemed reasonable. It also seemed like it would be too little; Terry had taken much longer spankings with all sorts of implements. How would a small paddle stack up to that, she wondered.
Then she found out.
Philip slammed the paddle against her left sit-spot with a loud splat!, and she whimpered. Then another whack!, this time on the right. She could tell he was using his full strength, something he never did — he’d told her so — and it hurt. Plus, he was crack! spanking her slowly, slow enough that whap! the burn from each swat sank in like ants crawling crack! under her skin.
Terry clenched her teeth, but a high-pitched squeak still came out each time he hit her with the paddle. And he was hitting the exact same spots over and over, his aim unerring, her ass growing fiery after only twenty swats.
Twenty more and she was biting her lip, shifting her hips; he held onto her waist with his free hand, pulling her tight against his body, and even as he spanked she involuntarily tried to get away — she didn’t want to; she knew she deserved this, but her body had other ideas — but his grip was just too strong.
Another twenty swats and then Philip paused. Terry realized she was breathing hard, sweat on her forehead, dampening her hair. “Getting the message?” he asked.
This one’ll probably end up in a collection, once it’s time to put out a new one.