Custom spanking stories and email correspondence
Aunty recently received a charming email from Miss Betsy, who wrote:
I'm an erotica writer, venturing out into writing custom short stories and email correspondence in the spanko vein. I've been a lifestyle domme, without really realizing it until about 8 years ago. I love writing (I'm actually a grad student in creative writing), and found a special knack for erotica. It's great practice, and great personal enjoyment, for me, writing to people about their special fantasies. I love doing custom work. It thrilled me to find out Anais Nin actually did the same thing early in her career...probably the only thing I can honestly compare myself to her for doing! I have been surprised by how much fun it is to do email correspondence as well.
If any of Aunty's readers would like custom stories and email correspondence with this "twisted young writer," you can contact her at: demeterscribe@yahoo.com
An example story written specially for one of Miss Betsy's benefactors is reproduced below -- with the explicit permission of said benefactor.
Ladies' Room Lesson
By Miss Betsy
(c) 2006
"Something wrong, Carl?" Mari had only dated him for a few months, but their connection was fiercely intimate. She could read him rapidly, and deeply. More, when there was an intense feeling in his eyes, she needed only a quick glance, or a soft change in the tone of his voice, to notice something amiss. She loved him so much, she could feel his mood change. Really feel it. Dinner had been wonderful, but now, looking across the cleared table at Carl, she knew something was wrong. The question came from her own expression long before she asked out loud.
"You know, it's nothing." He looked away.
"No. You're feelings aren't nothing. What is it?" Mari tenderly put a hand on his, and like a sweet fragrance had passed over to him, he lifted his chin and smiled. But his eyes were still distracted.
"Well," he began. Carl then looked over his shoulder, slowly turning back and scanning the restaurant. A few couples remained. It was late. Occasional waitresses moved across the floor with sonorous trays of dirty dishes.
"I saw our waitress talking to some other gal. And they were looking at me...and..." He stopped short. His eyes trailed over to a trim blonde strutting towards them. She swung a washcloth idly in one hand, while looking over the check she'd just collected.
"Her?" asked Mari. He nodded. "And what were they doing?"
He took a very long time to answer. Then he told her. It came out in broken parts of a sentence, in humiliated drips and drabs. They had pointed at him, then gestured at their own cheeks. And laughed. Carl had a lifelong affliction of skin breakouts. He was handsome, accomplished, and an adult. But he felt awkward at any mention of his skin. It made him feel like a mocked-out teen all over again.
"WHAT!" Mari was furious. How dare some plate slinger make fun of her man. Her Puerto Rican blood boiled. She'd been through too much in her life to tolerate this. And so had he. This lovely gentleman had treated her, her family, and her friends with such warmth. He was the perfect human being, the best friend. How dare some idiots insult him, practically to his face. And over her own shoulder, while she was enjoying a meal with him!
"Mari, please. It's nothing." He had no idea what he meant to her. That modesty was wonderful, and deeply lovable. But it also made her limitlessly sad at times. Carl deserved better. He was so sweet, so gentle. Years of abuse like this had hurt him so much. But he refused to let it enter other people's lives. He tried to make it his own pain, his own shame. Mari begged to differ. There was no one, ever, going to make her man unhappy in public again. He had as much right as the so-called beautiful people to eat a meal with dignity. That these vicious twits would mock him out, looking right at him! No, that would not pass unnoticed.
Her face went calm. "Okay. No big deal. We know we're better people than that. And I know I'm going home with a classy, hot guy whom I love." He laughed and took her hands in his.
Slap. The vinyl book with their check landed unceremoniously between them. Their waitress grinned mechanically as she walked off. "You can pay when you're ready."
"We're ready now, thanks." Carl was talking to her backside. She crossed the dining room and joined up with her gossip mate. A moment later, Mari saw the scene reflected in his eyes. This time, their laughter was audible. The PA system was off now, and the room carried the dumb twittering giggle.
"Well," Mari lied, "That was great. I'll go powder my nose. See you in a bit, honey." She stood almost casually. Carl thought she seemed mad, but then, nothing revealed it anymore. Had she decided it just wasn't worth it? He thought so.
Kellis had been popular all her life. It was only now, in her mid 20's that a life of apparent work loomed. Her grades had always been worthless. College passed slowly, through one long party. Much of that time Taylor had been her best friend. Their parents had supported each Daddy's little girl for long enough. But, after enough drunk driving episodes and enough years of expensive failing semesters, the plug had been pulled. Kellis Liked being a waitress. She never worked very hard. She smiled at the right guys, and they tipped her. Taylor had less instinct for it. And she actively hated people she found ugly. Being anything like polite to them, she said, was beneath her. Ugly people don't deserve to be treated well. They don't even care about themselves, or they'd look nice. She explained this to Kellis anytime she saw someone ugly.
"It's late. Let's just goof in the ladies' until we have to clock." Taylor dropped her cloth on a table and strode away. There were a few busboys who'd be sure to clean up after them. She knew it. Kellis had convinced her that much. They really didn't need to work hard, as long as they kept "the loser legion" expecting something. Kellis followed. She did that best.
Mari heard their block heels on the tiles as they approached the ladies' room. Staring hard into the mirror, she had been thinking of a nasty letter. To whom? The manager? He's probably so strapped for staff he couldn't fire them if he wanted to. The corporate owners? They'd be too afraid of a lawsuit. And how would that feel, in the end? Put her lover's shame in writing for someone to scoff at, then get a form apology and a coupon in the mail. Screw it. The red heat had risen to a nice burn when the door burst open.
"Acne man!" giggled Kellis!
"And his brown date. My God. I mean, date within your own species. Oh, wait. No cute girl would ever date a guy with a million zits. God!" They had passed Mari without seeing her. People like her were invisible in their lives. Mari glanced at the door. It had a deadbolt on the inside. You couldn't lock yourself in, per se. But you'd need a few seconds to unlock it. She turned the small crescent and heard it click.
Slowly, she moved towards the two. Kellis had her back to her. Taylor was futzing with her sticky, hairsprayed auburn hair. Mari felt confident, but that was the closest thing to a rational decision she made. The rest just came out, in a long swing.
Kellis fell to the floor with a single kick. Her legs buckled out from under her. Just like always happened in a hundred street fights. Mari had Taylor by her crunchy Aquanet hair in another motion.
"You're a bitch. You know it. And now you're gonna pay." Taylor was too stunned to protest. The first swat crossed her face before she even heard the sound. SWAT! Now it was a trail of red, tears starting already. SWAT SWAT SWAT!!! She was crying, wordlessly. Mari laid into her. The girl was going nowhere. She pulled back only by her own weight, and the blows turned her face to a ripe plum in moments. Now, Mari pressed her down onto her knees. She hit the tile loudly.
"What the hell! What are you even doing!" demanded Kellis. She hadn't moved a muscle, but her haughtiness came through from so many years of practice.
"I'm slapping the silly outta you. You insult my man, you insult me. And you're just a couple of lowlife whores. I'm not gonna waste my time with you. You needed this your whole life, and now you get it." During the speech, Kellis was on her feet, pulled puppet-like by her blond hair.
"Bitch bitch bitch!" snarled Mari, with each word laying her hand across Kellis' bleary face like a sword. Taylor watched in horror, but half of her attention at least went to the mirror. She had never seen her own face that color. My gosh!
"You have a dirty mouth, young lady. This is how your mamma should have learned you." Mari punched the hand soap dispenser. A hard squirt of blue fluid burst into her hand. Kellis' mouth lolled open as she gasped for breath. The soapy glob popped in with a slap. Mari's lovely, mocha hand gagged her. Kellis' eyes widened. She gurgled horribly and moaned like an injured animal. At the first breath, she had naturally inhaled much of the soap. Then she swallowed the rest. The flavor, unimaginable to begin with, came up on her a second time, and choked her. Her little body heaved violently, and her stomach made a ferocious diarrhea sound.
"Okay, you're done for now." Mari shoved her towards the nearest stall. Kellis lurched forward, banging the door with her head. On her knees, she collapsed against the bowl and wretched. The strain pressed her inside, and a brief moment later the most humiliating bowel sound followed. She vomited wildly, and the echoes bounced from porcelain to tile, to mirrored wall.
Taylor ran for the door. It was too simple. Mari laughed as her strappy pump and golden foot went beneath the girl's chunky high heels. Taylor fell hard, on her face, and slid enough to provoke a baseball analogy.
Mari thrust her hand under Taylor's waistband and lifted the trim figure off the tile floor. Her pants zipped up the side, grasping her waist skin-like. There was no way they would fall down without undoing them.
"You just have a dirty everything, and you know where you belong. With the rest of the..." And Mari had forced the girl's face right into the toilet bowl next to her hater friend. Reaching under the silver buckle of her belt, Mari withdrew it from her jeans like a rapier. With a deft flick, she had it doubled up in a loop. This had kept her in line, years before she was this woman's age. And now, it might serve to give them the attitude adjustment they richly needed. Taylor came up, fish-like. She gasped, gagged, and whined a pathetic mixture of humiliation and confusion. No one had ever not liked her before. She was pretty. Why was someone punishing her? She'd always been a bitch, and the ugly people simply knew to take it. Mari preferred jeans herself, but undid the waitressy side zipped without trouble. Of course, Taylor was too much to have a panty line. Her bare ass plopped out as the thin pants slid away.
Mari placed a foot on the small of her back. The real force lay in her left hand. Her full weight, and fuller strength, forced Taylor down against the rim of that horrid seat. And the thrashing began.
WHACK! The belt left a wide red stripe, punctuated by two semicircles. WHACK. WHACK. Taylor moaned, cursed, grunted. Each blow provoked a new dizzy sound.
Oww!
Grunt.
Stop!
Mari almost paused now, amused that the half moons on her belt were leaving such vivid impressions on Taylor's plump ass. A few more blows obscured them. Swat, slice, swack. Now her whole ass was a vivid red. The stripes had merged into a wide field of crimson. Only a few were distinguished. These had begun to turn purple, and little wheals were slitting into view.
"You know," began Mari. Her voice was so calm now it frightened the woman she was spanking. "This stops with one word. You say one word, and it's all over with." After two more blows, Taylor began to beg.
"What! WHAT!" Whack, whack.
"It starts with S. You never said it before. You learn it now, maybe it will follow you through life and mean something. Or maybe you just got the punishment I wanted you to remember, the next time you call someone a spic and insult a good person 'cause you don't like the way God made them."
"Stop it, please." The blow that followed was savage. Taylor tried to shriek, but her wind was knocked out into the gaping toilet below.
"No. The s word isn't about you. It isn't about giving you what you ask for." Mari struck her again. "Now..." Swat. Her butt jiggled wildly, and a moment later her voice cracked into a deep sob.
"Anytime now." From the stall next, a voice choked through something thick.
"Sorry. Say you're sorry. How long is it gonna take you!" Kellis struggled to stand up.
"Oh, sorry! Sorry, sorry sorry sorry!!!" Taylor had never even imagined that was the word. She hadn't come close to guessing it. Actually, 'shoes' was her next choice, as she glanced behind her and saw Mari's lovely evening pumps.
"You don't mean it. You copped the answer. And you probably never will be. So here's this for the rest of your nasty bitchy existence." Mari laid on ten more slicing blows. Taylor's outrage put her beyond. She cried, begged, squealed like a stuck pig. He ass looked like a slice of head cheese. Blue, purple and red mixed garishly. Time for her to pluck herself off the floor. and go.
"Remember to tell everyone you got your ass beat by a Latina!" Mari shoved her out of the stall with a methodical kick.
Kellis stood, wobbling.
"And you're next. You helped her cheat. You help her get by being the way she is. You're no better. You just know her to feel better." Mari shoved the exhausted girl down across her knees. The stall was wide enough to shove her head under the side wall, and keep her bottom tilted up at a strict angle. Kellis' pants tore as she opened them. She wore white cotton panties, almost too big for her. And they were not as clean as they could have been. Mari smirked at this.
"Look at you, dirty girl. Both ends. Soap isn't enough. Not for you. You're kind of unclean goes to the soul. You mock out a good person? SLAP! I can't make you compassionate, but I can make you pay. Now, you have to know your best friend, the blabbermouth over there, will tell everyone, and I mean everyone. SLAP! Her version will be all about how you drank soap and did this in your pants."
Mari laid into her with a vicious swat. The mortifying sound broke Kellis! She sobbed.
"I'm sorry. I shouldn't have made fun of your guy. I'm really sorry." SWAT SWAT SWAT!
Mari didn't pause, but she did, casually, say, "I'm sure you are." The last blow left Kellis pathetically whining. Her feet kicked about futiley under the stall, trapped in her black pants. The sound of her heavy heels made a hosey click-clock. And her nausea wasn't getting any better. Mari shoved her onto the floor. A fresh gag accompanied the fall, and Kellis lurched up, onto her knees, and dragged her trapped feet over the tiles like hooves. Her head disappeared and she wretched fiercely.
"Yeah, you're really the beautiful people now. Enjoy your rich social life together." Mari wiped her hands briskly on a paper towel and strode to the door. It opened on an empty restaurant. Almost. A few busboys were wiping over various tables with obvious scowls on their faces. And at the door, her beloved Carl waited patiently. He looked so calm, so lovely. When their eyes met, the room shrank and time resumed a normal pace. What a lovely man. And, even at this distance, what a perfect, lovely face. He really did have the best bone structure and the loveliest features she'd ever seen on a man.
As Mari passed their table, she made a simple gesture. With an easy flick, she opened her purse and took out a 50 dollar bill. Rewarding the crude people of the world was not her intention. She wanted to demonstrate something true about them, and about herself. She tore the bill in a perfect half and placed it neatly in the center. The other half, she tore into fibrous strands, sprinkling a few of them into the waning candle flame next to the salt shaker. With a click she opened her ball point pen and jotted in the bill's remaining margin.
"Could have been your tip." She smiled with great satisfaction. And why not? At some point those ladies would freshen up enough to come out of the ladies room. When they did, they'll have a second lesson to learn. Sometimes, the "beautiful people" wait tables while the others among us are, respectively, an architect and a college professor.
And Mari got to go home with the love of her life.
posted by Aunty Agony at 10/02/2006 12:22:00 AM
2 Comments:
H. O. T. HOT! Thanks for sharing this with us, Aunty.
Holy...was this a spanking story, or an action sequence?
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