"Shit!" June cursed out loud as the read the clock on the dashboard. 4:00 p.m. already. She'd never have time to stop and get gas before heading home, and she knew how important it was to him to be ready on time tonight. He'd called her that afternoon and told her that he had a really rough day, and all he wanted was to turn off all the phones and be with her. He was going to pick up dinner, and he expected her to be clean, scented, and waiting when he got home. She barely had time—and that was without filling the gas tank.
They'd argued over it at least a dozen times. She'd never had much money, and over the years had gotten into the habit of letting the tank reach almost empty before she filled it again. He argued that they had plenty of money now, and it was unsafe to let the tank get that low. What if she got lost? What if there was an emergency? And there was no chance that he wouldn't know. She'd mentioned that morning that she needed to run by Exxon, and he always logged onto the bank's website at the end of the day. He'd notice the lack of a pending debit from the gas station. Her breath began to quicken as she thought of his reaction.
She hurried home without breaking any traffic laws—she did not need a ticket on top of this—and pulled her car into the drive. She quickly tidied the house, and sailed into the shower. She shaved her legs and under her arms, washed her hair, and put a deep conditioner on her hair. She applied lotion all over her body, and edible powder over it. She dried her hair, brushed it, and left it soft and loose. She knew she still had to face him, but maybe he'd be so turned on that he could skip the lecture and following punishment. Not a chance, she knew. Her stomach started to clench, and she went downstairs to wait. Five minutes left.
She heard the front door slam as she sat down to wait. "June," his voice thundered through the house. She ran to meet him.
"Hi, Mark. Feeling any better?" He raised an eyebrow.
"'Mark'? And should I be feeling better? Do you think you might know something about that?" She looked at the floor.
"Yes, Sir," she murmured.
"Come sit with me and we'll talk about it."
He went and sat in the living room. She went to the kitchen, fixed his favorite drink, and followed him.
"Thank you, baby," he said. "Come sit beside me." She sat next to him, curled up in his arms, and looked down. "Look in my eyes, baby." She looked up. He uttered one word. "Why?"
"I ran out of time. I planned to do it, but..." She trailed off.
"What were you doing today? Was it important? Was there an emergency?" He questioned her with a concerned look on his face. She shook her head, struggling to keep looking at him. "You know why I made this rule for you, don't you, baby? We've talked about it before." She nodded. "We've also talked about what would happen if you didn't fill the tank without a good reason, didn't we?" She nodded again. "And what did I say would happen?" She gulped.
"You said I'd get a spanking."
"That's right, baby," he said. "And it's been a while since I've had to punish you. It's going to hurt, and you will cry, but you'll also remember this every time you see the gas gauge get near a quarter of a tank. Do you think I'm being unfair?"
"No, Sir."
"All right. Now go to the bedroom, set the strap and the cane on the bed, and wait for me there." June felt her stomach form into a solid ball, but she also felt a familiar warmth between her legs. She trudged up the stairs to do what he asked. June still couldn't explain the love/hate relationship she had with being spanked. She definitely didn't like the pain. More than anything, she hated disappointing Mark. She knew he only made rules to protect her. But somehow, the thought of a spanking made her almost dripping wet.
She was still incredibly anxious, though. The idea of getting a spanking was hot. What happened after a spanking was always hot. But the actual spanking—well, that hurt. She wasn't sure which implement hurt more, either. The strap was about three inches wide: a solid, heavy leather. Mark doubled it over and really made it snap when it hit her bare ass, thighs and, on occasion, her breasts. The cane was pretty unusual, at least as far as she knew. It was the rod from a set of blinds. He had simply unscrewed it and stored it in the cabinet with their other "toys." It stung and bit and left painful, red welts.
Finally, he entered the room and sat down on the bed. "Come on, little one," he said, patting his lap. She crawled over his lap, adjusting her large breasts over his thigh until she was somewhat comfortable. "You know the rules, baby. You may shout and yell and cry as you see fit. You may also use the safe word if you feel the need. You know I love you and would never hurt you beyond what you can take. However, until you use that word, I will spank you as long and as hard as I deem necessary, until I think you've learned your lesson. You are to keep your legs spread at all times. You may wiggle and writhe, but if you kick or hit me, even on accident, you will be punished for it."She felt his hand caress her ass, and the she felt the spanking start.
First the slaps were slow: one cheek, then the other. She kicked her legs a little, but was determined not to make any noise. But when he began slapping her in earnest, she couldn't help herself, and she began to wail. He built up to his full strength, and made sure her ass was consistently red, from the top of her cheeks to the middle of her thighs. By the time he finished, tears were pouring from her face.