In ‘A Night to Remember’, another great entry to January’s story writing contest, ‘What the Camera Saw’, Robin finds out what happens to naughty boys who use foul language. Enjoy!
– Dana
A night to remember.
Robinotk
It was 3pm in the afternoon on a Saturday. It doesn’t seem important
unless you happen to be me, and the place where you had to be was 30 miles away and you had to be there by 4 or suffer the consequences. It is never good to keep the person who is in charge of you waiting.
It seems time always slows down on nights there was to be a play party. Seconds turn to minutes and minutes to hours. Finally the time had come to leave and I bolted for the door.
Everything was on schedule and I pulled into the drive a few minutes early. Hopped out of the car and into the shower. The Mistress of the house was just finishing up getting ready which ment I had a bout half hour to be ready to walk out the door.
As we arrived I was carrying in the usual bags that went with us when we played at a public party. I noticed something that I had never seen before. It was a extra bag. I quickly flipped through all the stuff I knew she had in her house but I have never seen this particular bag before. My mind was full of questions.
The place was called the Reformatory and it was an anything goes party and before long the party was in full swing. The familiar sounds of heavy wooden objects landing on soft tender bottoms and the sequels that followed were everywhere.
Soon I heard that familiar voice in my ear that simply said follow me. She led me to a bench and then tied me to it.
She called for her female slave to bring her the new bag. As she did a crowd started to gather, as they always did when she started to play. From the bag she produced a video camera. A mix of horror and strange excitement ran through my mind. Then I heard her utter the words that sent chills through my body. If anyone wants to record this please feel free.
Soon I saw camera phone after camera phone come out. People jockeying for position like horses on a track, trying to get the best angle possible.
I soon forgot about all the cameras and the video recording equipment as the first hit landed. It felt as tho a thousand bees had decided to land all at the same in the same 4 inches of my bare bottom. Stroke after stroke landed until the bees had stopped stinging and they were replaced by a very deep thud. My mind reared and several words that were not common place slipped out of my mouth.
I heard a gasp as everything seem to come to a halt. SHE grabbed the back of my hair and lifted my head. “What was that Mr Potty Mouth” she said as she lifted her eyebrow. “ I know how to fix people who use that kind of language in a ladies presence” she said.
Soon something was shoved in my mouth and duct tape was placed over top. To hold it in. Then it happened. Again. “Wham” It felt as tho a semi truck had ran into my backside. Blow after blow it hit. Rocking the horse with me on it with every swing. The hits seem to match the rhythm of the song that was playing at the time. Until it all mixed into one moment in time where nothing else mattered except me and her. That one moment that seems to last forever.
A new yet familiar was now running across my bruised and welted bottom it was a light touch, a soft caress that was the signal that it was all over.
As I fell into relaxation in her arms. I remember seeing someone walk over to the video camera and press the one thing that ment it was over. The OFF button.
The End
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