Holiday Design Humor

I don’t usually post humorous 'toons or fails here, because I leave that to those who are actually good at it.

However, since I wanted to check in anyways, but didn't have a story ready to publish and coincidentally came across these design fails that really resonated with me. These were picked up from a design publication I follow who picked them up from various sources. So without further ado, here is my countdown of top 4 holiday design fails.





#4
Ahh, the twinkle of holiday panties; I mean holiday lights.
What is that design supposed to even be?
Inverted trees? Or? I don't know.
Or is this advertising the red light district? 









 

#3
Speaking of trees.
Forget tradition, let’s go with a modern streamlined Christmas butt plug; I mean tree.
What the…who…what…how?!








 
 

#2
And this! How did they not see this; or did they and thought it was a good idea anyways. Or did someone just yell at the designer, “No, no; no! You can’t just do holiday ornaments! Incorporate our product, dammmit! Appeal to our customers! Women want shoes! Women want heels! Women want…!”








 
Bonus before #1:
If you are done with the holidays already, or just done with my poor attempt at humor -
If you get sent out to pick up replacement lights for the tree in order to keep the season bright; consider picking up some of these flickering lights.
Yup; tell me you didn’t read what I read.









 
#1 - My Favorite
Aww, the warmth of Santa’s hands on Lula’s Rose.
Oh my mistake that should have read Santa’s hand on LulaRoe’s leggings.

So of course I love these, because of the obvious - I love leggings.
And apparently so does Santa!
Just look at him.
He’s really excited.
So excited he seems to be saying, look at this ass!
But I think he got a bit carried away; sinking his hand deep between her cheeks and reaching around to her front.

Hope you laughed. 
If so let me know or feel free to tell me to quit my comedic career while I'm ahead.

Hump Day: Apologies

Since this is Hump Day, I thought you might find this morning extract enjoyable. 
Hope you find some meaning in it and if not at least a bit of joy from it.
Let me know if you do.

.........

I attempt to lift my weighted eyelids.
My strained and irregular sleep pattern is further interrupted.

Not a mosquito, but seems no less persistent.

It is on my lip.
Nibbling.

Insistently.
Pushing forward wanting me to open my mouth.

I strain my eyes to no avail.
Instead I raise my hand.

SLAP!

UGHH! Owwwww!

A rising whimper.

My hand hasn't hit a lightweight mosquito,
but rather has made contact with something slightly larger.
Actually a whole lot larger, but softer and warmer.
I pull myself upright, but I am pushed back down by a slumping dead weight.

My eyes now shoot open and I shake my head.

“Ohhh, damn it!
Jesus! Doll, are you okay? I am so sorry! I had no idea.”

There is no answer, but for the increasing whimpers, as a net of hair and wetness covers my bare chest. Her head resting against me, rising up and falling, but not quite in rhythm with my breathing.

“Doll? Doll? Are you okay? Look at me.”

She does not move up, but instead reaches her arms between my back and the warm sheets and squeezes tight.

“Are you okay?!”

“I…I’m…I…I just wanted…I just wanted to wake you up with kisses,” she mumbles hesitantly, choking back sobs.
“But Sweet, you know better than to wake me unexpectedly” I remind her trying to lift her head, but left without an easy grip. I am desperate to see the unintentional damage my hand has done. “Let me see.”

“I am fine," she whispers and I can feel her extended eyelashes slide shut across my chest, “I just need to be close to you right now.”

“Please. I need to see if you are okay.” I insist.

She raises her head and turns, a cascade of tangled hair covers her face as she props herself upon her elbows. She blows out, a small jet-stream of warm air intended to send her hair away from her mouth.
 
Reaching forward, I stroke her soft, moist tussled hair out-of-the-way and reveal damaged beauty. Her cheek is visibly red and I swear I can see the throbbing.

“Open your eyes; look at me” I command further yet gently.

Her left eye twitches open under the combined weight of heavy mascara and tears. She attempts to smile with pursed lips and her ever radiant eyes. I am relieved that I do not see blood at her mouth nor signs of bruising anywhere, anywhere on her face.

“I am sorry. I didn’t mean to….” And as soon as I begin she has cut me off with a raised gentle cold finger against my lips.

“Shhhh….” she responds. “Shhh. No. You are fine.”

She delivers a sloppy wet kiss to my lips before turning her head just as abruptly towards the distance; across the room and out the window towards a world that doesn't understand.

 

“I… I wanted. I wanted to say,” she begins slowly than rambles on, “Thatt. That I'm ss...I'm sorry for last night. I am sorry I upset you. For everything...That you had to…”

I look at her confused, thinking it is I that should be apologizing. She knows I am questioning.

“This was an accident, yesterday was all my fault.”

“But I didn’t mean to be so hard on you. But you pushed and I was at…”

She pushes her dainty, witch-like, magical finger against my lips once more.

“I am glad you did that last night.”


 

With that she has pushed herself off me completely, rising like an escaping spirit ready to ascend into the heavens, but instead merely stalks across the uneven terrain of sheets and blankets. She slowly stretches legs over the edge of the bed, her chest now resting against the mound of bed coverings as her head slumps down into them. Without looking at me she cooes into the silence of the room. “Whenever you are ready. I need to feel close to you.”

“But…but aren’t you sore? I’m sor…” I ask remembering her thrashing from the night before.

“Shhh. Of course I am.
I accept your apology about my face; but don’t ever apologize for spanking me.”

 

..................

So? Any thoughts to share?
 
As always, your feedback via comments is golden.
If not a few polls for your convenience:







 

Random Thoughts: Pinups, Elevators and Questions

Yes. I believe it to be true. 

I believe we share the same interests, dear readers, aside from the obvious of course.
 
Quite a few of the same interests, including my love of pinup girls.

Within all the genres of pinup art my favorite is the cheesecake style which if you know the different styles should be no surprise, (and if not, here is a concise run down of some of the most popular genres) with Gil Elvgren being my favorite artist and on the top while Art Frahm is - well let’s just say I consider him on the other end of the spectrum; not for technique, but for his unbelievable scenarios. Nevertheless it was Frahm, and not Elvgren who popped into my head this morning.

Are you following me still? Hope so. Allow me to continue.

I had an interesting experience while on the elevator at work today.

The building I work in is mixed use, commercial, office and residential. Separate, except for the shared basement floor used primarily for both the overall parking garage passageway and the residential only laundry room.

I found myself in this area waiting for what seemed like a quarter hour for the elevator to arrive. The door finally opens just as a young lady rushes out of the laundry room carrying two laundry hampers. Being the gentleman I have been accused of, I held the door open for her allowing her to pass first and allowing myself a clear view of her petite yet well defined shape encased in a knee-length, form fitting rayon dress over bare legs. 
 
As soon as she gets on, she leans forward and she drops her laundry hampers down on the elevator floor. She has my attention as she straightens up from her bent over state as I then notice her fidget with her dress and I could have sworn I hear a snap. 



I have seen this girl around the building grounds before, infrequently, and have never actually had a conversation apart from the courtesy salutation. Not even the how was your weekend, more like the simple hello in passing. Anyways, my point is we recognize each other, but don’t know each other.

I am watching her and she is watching me as I actually initiate small talk this time about how busy the laundry room seemed to be this morning (I had passed by it and seen quite a few of the machines churning away). She is making eye contact with me as she is answering that people must be working from home today while simultaneously, nonchalantly fidgets and tugs at what seems to be the waist area of her dress and snaps it. This time it on her right side now; the side closest to me. And then in delayed reaction it hits me just as the door opens onto my floor.

I think, no; couldn’t have been.
But yes, did I really just see this?
Did I really just hear that?

As I wish her a great day, my delayed belief sets in.

No?
Yes.
Yes?
Really.

Was she really tugging up and snapping her panties into place?

Was she pulling up on her panties in front of me?
Not caring that I see?
Or was she not aware of what she was doing?
Was it merely an involuntary habit, indifferent action or an intentional act?

I ask myself, and more importantly I ask you - Do girls do this?

So what are you getting at Enzo, you ask?
The obvious subtle sexiness of it. Does that make sense?

And thus, as I walked back to my office, visions of Frahm pinups flashed through my mind.
So it wasn’t “sexiness” in a Frahm over-the-top way, to the point of unbelievable. I mean just look at those illustrations they don’t make sense. And I have never been a big fan of his extreme fantasy. That being said, his illustration Going Down, did fit the scene; sort-of.



However, in reality the probability for a plausible reason can lead a mind to wander.
So many questions, for my Elevator Girl including: Why did you do that? Not once, but twice. And more importantly, why are your panties falling down?

Is it that they are too big — or they’ve stretched due to wear?
Perhaps you should try a size down Young Lady and see if that solves the problem.
Or are they worn and the elastic giving way?

Don't worry, either way, we'll set up a campaign to raise funds for some new panties. In fact, I'll gladly take you pantie shopping, my treat. 

 
Oh, so many questions….
 
Although the above illustration fit the scene better, I prefer this next illustration for detail reasons and the fact that this pinup girl resembles my Elevator Girl closer: 



So if I have peaked your interest and you find yourself compelled to read more about Art Frahm and celery - yes celery, click through to this slideshow type article; keep clicking next.  I promise it will make you laugh.

And when you are done laughing, you can get back to me with some answers, please.

L.O.L. XIII

Well, despite offline responsibilities trying to keep me away I managed to make it here just in time for Day 2.

So without time to waste, please, please come in. Welcome to Love Our Lurkers  XIII. Come in come in; grab some drinks, grab a seat, you Sir just watch her seat, say hello to the others, don't be shy, yes, yes don't worry Young Lady you won't be alone, all the ladies here are interested in the same just as well, have a drink first it'll take the edge off. Look around everyone is smiling, everyone is friendly, take your coat off Sir, take your dress off Young Lady, you have nothing to  worry about I'll be gentle, patience Sir, you'll get your turn. Come in come in; join the festivities, but first answer accordingly below.


..........................
 
If you are frequent visitor here, I want to say Thank You. Thank you for coming by and listening. Yes listening, that is how I see it. One of the reasons I write here is as an outlet. As I have mentioned in various previous posts, I write as an escape to the stresses and pressures of this life. Stresses which perhaps are not much different than those in your life. Forced to deal with added outside and ongoing pressures on everything, from the mundane tasks required of existence in the big city, to the seemingly unbearable pressure of heartache in one form or another. I hope my posts have served you well over the years.

If you Comment, I owe you Extra Gratitude, for hearing a voice is a gift especially when it is a like-minded voice. It takes a lot of courage to come through the internet shadow and comment especially on a topic, a lifestyle, a fetish (call it what you will; however you name it, it is more often than not misunderstood - at least in my experiences).

So my question for my frequent visitors; why do you keep coming back? What draws you back here; what about what I write resonates with you? Do you have a favorite story here? A favorite scene? Something about the tales here that are unique? 
Or is it none of that - but simply that this is another place to read spanking stories and similar subjects, or  that there are limited choices out there and this is merely an option?


For those of you who are new here or new to commenting here; foremost – Welcome! and thus the reason why Love Our Lurkers was created: To invite all those who merely lurk to say “hello”. 

I would be interested in hearing general demographics of those who lurk would be interested in sharing. I have so many questions for you: who you are, what type of relationships are you in, your age range, etc. I wonder if you practice spanking or merely are unknowingly drawn to it over and over. I have an idea of who my readership is and what they are drawn to here (i.e. mostly females fond of Domestic Discipline stories), but who knows I may be totally off. I don’t expect readers to divulge personal information, no pressure; a simple hello and how often you visit would be just as welcome.


..........................
  

If you are new here you may consider reading this previously written explanation of my Everyday Voice much better than any current attempt:

Welcome to this wonderful place that looks, sounds, feels and smells like our own everyday world, but with some distinct differences. A place where adult girls who shun their responsibilities, are made to pay for their offenses, where their entitled or arrogant attitudes are checked often and their bottoms are the primary focus of their penance.  

Not only is this a place of disciplining young ladies in various clever and embarrassing ways, but a place to just admire and be in awe of the female creature in all her inner,
outer and spiritual beauty; all in an everyday context.
 
This is also a place to see and hear of girls flushed to all cheeks with embarrassment. Where short skirts and sheer dresses turn on their owners much to their dismay; but to the welcomed entertainment and joy of those fortunate to witness such beauty.

But, please don't ever confuse this place as somewhere where women are meant to be disrespected or degraded. These stories are a blend of fantasy and reality. Non-consensual discipline is for the young ladies who deep down secretly crave it; not something done out of duty or out of a lopsided abusive relationship. 

 However, discipline here is seldom random and never unwarranted. Well administered spankings are fully justified. The young ladies may not be willing participants, but that is the fantasy aspect right? I don't think every story needs to have a "disclaimer" paragraph at the end that explains that those involved were secretly planning and consenting all along as so many authors choose to include. For me that merely spoils the entire story. 
I hope you enjoy what you find here and come back often and say hello when you do.

All the best,
Enzo

Finding L.O.L. Surprises

L.O.L. XIII is Almost Here.

If you are not familiar and think L.O.L. stands for Laugh Out Loud; surprise - it does not. Unfortunately, as I am guessing the majority of readers of this and other like minded blogs, are in desperate need of a good reverberating, hard to breath, drink spitting good laugh. However, they probably wouldn't appreciate their laughter limited to only 13 laughs. L.O.L. in this context refers to something else entirely.

 


L.O.L. refers to Love our Lurkers and more directly refers to an annual blogging event that has been going on now for quite some years, believe it or not.

Rather than fail to adequately explain this event, plus in order to avoid any plagiarism lawsuits, I will direct you over to the lovely blog of Hermione who explains it all so clearly here. 

Go take a look and be sure to come back and visit this weekend. Yes, this weekend when I will publish my official L.O.L. post as today is not the day and only a reminder.
 
For today is Wednesday. 
Or more commonly known as Windy Wednesday around this blog.
Therefore:



What have we here?
A pleasant surprise for both you and I, dear reader. Wouldn't you agree? But more so for us, probably not so much for her.

Especially when I bring the matter to her attention while dragging her protesting to her feet. Gripping her wrists tight and pulling her in close, as I scold her in public. With her hands and mind preoccupied, the wind takes advantage of the situation coming in for a few more humiliating unobstructed rushes.

Young Lady, what have I told you about always remembering to pay attention?
What do you mean, you weren't expecting me? What-about anyone else?  
You weren't expecting anyone to be around? Really?
It is the middle of the day, in a city park, what were you thinking?
 
Although on occasion, today is also know as Hump Day around here as well.

Which is something I am definitely also very overdue for. As after a spanking, the best follow up in my opinion is... well I am sure you know or you can guess.

Napping in that skimpy dress in public?
What were you thinking?
You should have been charging admission with the show you were giving, young lady!
 

Oh, wipe that tear from your face.
You want something to cry about, I'll give you something to cry about...

Don't think I'm not understanding. I realize I interrupted your nap by dragging your little pouty ass home; not that I have any idea why you possibly needed a nap.

But now I am sure you will need one; after all the kicking and screaming you will undoubtedly be doing while I firmly deliver this reminder on your bare bottom.

But don't you worry, I'll let you nap after.
After I'm done spanking you.

And, after I'm done driving my point home.

 

 
 

After, I'm entirely done that is.

So, was that a pleasant unexpected short story surprise for you, dear reader?
Hope you enjoyed that. If so please let me know.

VOTE

The short of it - VOTE

I do not have the energy or the eloquence at the moment to explain the magnitude of it any further. I may tomorrow, but for today the message is clear and simple - VOTE!

Random Thoughts: Define Creepy or Sexy

How is life treating everyone? I have been away from blogging for a bit now unable to find my creative spark. Which is due to multiple factors, from the ongoing negative Union divide to personal issues, and thus unable to carve out any genuine time for dedicated writing. Not sure if anyone noticed. Regardless, I hope to work my way back to writing soon.




Meanwhile, as I was trying to cook up some inspiration, I stumbled across the following ingredients.


1. I was part of a conversation recently about the definition of “creepy” and how possibly, much like so many things in life, one person’s creepy is another person’s sexy. Much like a fetish. Similar to how some define a spanking fetish.

Ponder that for a good solid moment and then add a cup full of the following.

2. I was perusing illustrative inspirations when I came across the following illustration:

click to enlarge (if you dare)

So if you know a few things about me by now you can probably guess right away what I like about this image and why I would put it in the sexy category. Sophomoric perhaps, but still sexy.
 
Yes, the perilous situation of the young blond and her windblown skirt of course. Sprinkle in some not so obvious details here and there which add to the sexy visual: for example; her expression, her toes turned in anxiously, her chest at attention and the fact that she wears glasses - all favorites.

Of course, like any illustration I come across, there are things I would have enjoyed much more. For example, sheer or definitively girly panties vs. the thong shown would have been the icing. So all of these still fall under the sexy category for me.

Then you look further and you see what I would define as creepy.
What is with that cab driver? And his mask?
Just leaves a strong tinge of “what the holy hell’?!

I am sure there are some subliminal messages hidden here that the artist wants you to figure out, but I for one am not sure what they all mean.
 
Take that ticker tape, confetti-like stuff falling down? Is that what it is supposed to be, or is it meant to be represent something else, something that I am obviously missing.
The "F.U." cab company name is a bit much for my tastes and I am sure the other name right below it also has some double-meaning although I have no idea what and or what language that is. (Not the “O. Davis 6” part as that refers to the artist himself, oDavis which can be found on the DeviantArt site).

And lastly, what the hell is that hanging from his rear-view mirror?
What?
What?!
and Why?

Not to mention that on the surface level I am not clear of the overall interaction going on. Did she just hail the cab and his abrupt stop sent the wind gusting sideways causing her skirt to blow? Or did she just get out of the cab? But if so that angle doesn’t make sense.

So overall there was some innocent sexiness to this image that featured one of my favorite situations, but it goes awry with that cab driver. Or perhaps it is just me and others don’t see the creepiness in the illustration. Regardless it illustrates my point of the perception of certain things - sexy / not sexy vs. creepy / not creepy.

What are your thoughts? How would you define this? And what is your take on all the questions this illustration conjures up?

Comments are always most appreciated.
Polls for your convenience.

Off Topic: Just Another Day

Here we are again. I can not believe we are in October already and officially in Autumn. Although this is my favorite season the mood has been dark as of late on so many levels and in part the reason for my absence.

If you live in the US of A you are aware of the ongoing, never ending political strife and in particular the current fiasco. It is all very heartbreaking to hear so many varied personal stories that all obviously steer why people's opinions lean a certain way towards the current controversy.

It is also disappointing to not be able to have open minded conversations with friends because so many people are entrenched in their political beliefs that they won't for a mere second stop to give the benefit of the doubt to the "other side".  

I won't go into all that here, for this should be an oasis of distraction. I think I just wanted to vent for a moment and explain part of the reason why I haven't been feeling particularly creative. 

And I'm not sure why - 
because for so many it is Just Another Day in the good ol' USA.* 
We Will Return to our Regular Broadcasting Shortly.



*And on a random side note (or perhaps as a snapshot of how my mind works) all the latest news with references to previous decades and in particular the '80s led my mind to the tag line Just Another Day. A sadly perfect tagline, which came to mind from this rather apropos 80s band and their song by the same name.

Windy Wednesday

In case the title sums it up too concisely, I offer the following expanded explanation.

What: Windy Wednesday.

Why: Because I need a smile. And its is Wednesday.

Who: Two naughty girls

Where: Unfortunately, not on my subway.

I know this doesn't appear to be a Windblown skirt per my usual.

I know there are differences out there: Windblown Skirt, Upskirts, Skirtlifting etc.
All of which I classify very distinctly in my book, well, because they are. At some point I may post my explanation of the differences in varieties and my reason for favoring some and not a fan of others. That is if anyone is interested in hearing about such rationale?

Regardless, here is the full animated gif below.
I hope this brings a smile to your face as it did to mine and theirs.

Such beautiful, happily mischievous girls!

Granted, had this been my girl, those smiles would have been short-lived;
while my smile would have grown exponentially.



Oh, and in case you haven’t had the opportunity, please stop by and read my most recent story excerpts. It can be found one post back. Or for your convenience, simply by clicking here. And please do share your thoughts.

Sunday Mail

Here we are as Summer seeming to be drawing to an end, at least according to the calendar. I was planning to share some random thoughts, but instead opted to share this chapter, these scenes. Perhaps you will recognize a few characters, or not; but either way I hope there is enough here to brighten your Monday.

............

“I didn’t know we got mail on Sundays,” she asked wrapping her arms around his chest while leaning into him.

“We don’t,” he answered, wondering why she couldn’t piece things together sometimes.

“But it looks like you just got the mail” she continued while resting her head softly against his back and squeezing her smaller perkiness against his larger stiff back. Wrapping herself around his warmth she closed her eyes and felt the cool morning breeze run up her legs.

“No, Doll, this isn’t from today. You forgot to get the mail from yesterday. And maybe even from the past few days from the looks of it,” he answered her while shuffling through the stack.

“Aaaah; well, it...Well, he must have dropped it off late. Or after I checked it,” she stumbled for an acceptable answer.

“What time did you go check?”

“Uh..when?”

“Yesterday. What time did you go check the mail, yesterday?” His tone rising at the realization he already knew the answer. His one hand made a simple attempt to undo her arms which were now locking tighter against his bare chest.

“I don’t remember; maybe around…Well, what did we get, anything exciting? I was hoping for the VS catalog,” she slithered her legs around his, attempting to steer the conversation away.

He swung his arm backwards in a flash, and stuck his target with echoing precision.

“OW! Fuuuh!"  she screamed, jumping away from him and marching off the porch and into the house; bare-feet stomping against hardwood, cool hands frantically kneading her stinging, barely covered bottom. "I hate when you do that!”
 



“Well, I hate when you avoid answering my questions,” he snapped back, grabbing her by her arm and catching her just inside the doorway.

“Muumuu. Uhh! Let me go!” she protested, trailing her free arm. “Let me go! I hate when you slap my ass like that, without warning! It really hurts.”

He pulled her back towards him, swung her around and locked her own arms in front of her, all with seemingly orchestrated grace. She nearly lost her footing, her bare-feet sliding on polished wood floors, as he planted her mere inches away from him, holding her at attention by her wrists while staring down at her big animated eyes. To anyone who might have been peeking through the remote living room windows, illuminated by the bright morning sun, and witnessed the action of their seemingly coordinated moves would have thought it all resembled the choreography of swing dancers.

That is except for obvious details; foremost that they were not dressed the part in the least. He dressed in nothing more than long pants and she in seemingly less. Wearing merely a white tank top that despite being stretched as it was, still barely greeted her belly button. There was nothing more, except if one counted the skimpy pair of skintight black rayon panties who’s questionable purpose seemed to be to cover only her most intimate of areas.

“I ‘otta spank you for more reasons than one” he threatened wondering to himself why she always managed to rile him up with her reactions to her own in-actions. Why couldn't she just admit her mistakes and go from there. No, instead she would avoid admitting anything wrong and then, to his utter disdain she would proceed to lie about it. At her age he would think she was well beyond this immature way of dealing with her short-comings.

“I go away for a few days and come back to more than one mess. And now possibly another…” he scolded, gesturing to the ransacked room with the stack of bills.

“You didn’t seem to mind the mess when you got home last night. You managed to walk past it all to get to the bedroom in a hurry, didn’t you?” she squinted in objection.

“I was busy with other things; other more important things to do like delivering a very important, firm message. Or did you forget already?"



"How could I forget, I can still..." she cut herself off feeling the throbbing between her cheeks, now refreshed, to her annoyance thanks due to his slap.

"I should have spanked your ass good and hard as soon as I got back…”

“Well you missed your chance, and besides I think you did enough damage back there.”

“Don’t be so sure, Young Lady.”

She swallowed hard, praying he wasn't serious, “Just let me go, I have to go change for brunch,” she protested. 

“Oh! You think I am still taking you out to brunch?” 

She froze; “Bbb…but, you promised!” she pouted as her eyes grew larger.  

He didn’t answer her, wanting to let out a full force corporal attack on her spoiled bottom right then and there. Yet he held back. And just as he was about to follow through, she chimed out the coincidental reason why he had hesitated.

“Besides, remember what my aunt told us, ‘Relationships are built on compromise, patience and promises kept.’”

He looked down at her, nodded and gently kissed the top of her messed hair.
“She is right. Now go get changed.”

…….


“Just 10 more minutes and then we can go,” he seemed to call out to the otherwise empty room and not necessarily to her.

She stomped her foot and exhaled loudly.

“Easy there; or you’ll have to start over.
I think this will all work out; your aunt was right.”

“THIS is NOT what she meant,” she yelled back at him without looking over her shoulder. She trembled but did her best to remain still with her fingers interlaced and her arms locked in place over her head. 

“I don’t know about that, I think this might of been exactly what she had in mind. You are showing lots of patience standing there, facing the wall, like a good lil’ girl.

And as far as compromise? Well, I can accept that you failed to do what you were supposed to do while I was gone. You took your bottom scorching spanking for your laziness with relatively minimal objection. That is compromise.

And I kept my promise; I’m taking you to brunch.

After you are done with your corner time, that is.”

She was facing the wall, nose to the corner, with her bottom, for all intents and purposes, exposed. He had hiked up her skirt and and tucked it into itself, pulled down her tights to just above her knees. Leaving her panties on as a courtesy, he told her; but she knew that being the minimal crosshatch of a g-string that they were that they served little purpose in saving her modesty; her freshly spanked and reddened bottom was on full unobstructed display.




He took another sip of his hard drink and stared at her compromised position, entertained by the sight, and added “In fact, I think I will thank her personally at brunch,” he smirked. 

"No! you can't. You damn well better not, you..."

"Easy there; mind your language. You don't want to bury yourself deeper.  Keep it up and I'll march you out to the truck just as you are."

She absorbed his words, swallowed hard and holding back a whimper, released a tremble. Combined with her shifting weight from one leg to the other, only served to send her plump bottom into a reverberating jiggle.
 
All to his further amusement as his mind contemplated if she was done for the time being. He contemplated the bit of added humiliation to her already punished state. He imagined her in an awkward and precarious state, as she shuffled along, should he require her to walk across the living room, out the door and into his truck just as she was. Not allowing her to pull up her tights or pull down her skirt until later. Much later.

............ 

As always, your feedback via comments is golden. But here are a few polls for your convenience. Two for the Ladies and two for the Gents.: