I have a scene planned for Frolicon with someone new where I’m going to be “punishing” her for something. I’ve been brainstorming things I can do and say, and part of that process is writing a story about it. Here’s some of that story:
Cal was waiting for me when I got out. “Amelia,” he said, “we have to talk.”
My heart dropped into my feet. What was wrong?
He held out a folder. “What are these?”
“I don’t know. What are they?”
“I think you know.”
“I don’t. Really.” But I took the folder anyway and opened it up.
Then I understood.
Inside were three fake tickets, like the kind the police give you, each one for holding my phone while driving — which is illegal in Georgia. “I… I didn’t…”
“You didn’t think I’d find them?”
“No.” I looked down, playing my part. I didn’t get tickets, hadn’t gotten a real one since I was twenty-five, but I knew what he wanted me to do. “I’m sorry. I should’ve told you.”
“Yes. You should have.” He sat down at the foot of the bed and folded his arms. “How many times have we had this discussion?”
“Too… too many?”
“Yes, that’s right. Too many.” He actually looked legitimately disappointed in me, which in turn made me feel like a naughty girl — I suppose that was the point, though. “You’ve wasted money on these, and you’ve gotten points on your license, and that affects your insurance rates. Do you really have the money to be spending on something so frivolous?”
“No, sir.” I rubbed my bare toe on the carpet. I was still naked, with my towel wrapped around me, but more than that I felt naked under his critical eye. “It was a mistake.”
“I can’t imagine what would be so important that you had to hold your phone, especially when you have a windshield mount in your car.”
I didn’t answer. I didn’t want to mess up the role-play by saying something that didn’t work, so I decided to just stay silent and take the lecture.
Cal was a very, very good lecturer. I felt awful when he was done, on the verge of tears, and he hadn’t even punished me yet. “I’m really sorry,” I murmured.
“Not yet you’re not,” he said. “Go hang up your towel.”
When I came back from the bathroom, really naked now, Cal patted his lap and I trudged over, getting in position. He rested his hand on my bottom. “Do I have to get spanked?” I whined. “Weren’t the tickets enough punishment?”
“Those were from the police. This… this is from me.”
Then he started to spank.
This is from the June 14 story in the holiday stories collection, so you’ll have a while to wait until you read the rest of it. Hopefully you like it when I release it for real.