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.

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“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.

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