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sillygirl

Drive-Up Discipline

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A short double honk pulled Chloe’s attention back to the road. The left-turn light had changed to green in front of her when she had been looking down, trying to activate the music app on her phone. A car in her rearview flashed lights at her as the light turned yellow. Rolling her eyes, Chloe drove her car around the corner sharply. Despite the traffic light on the cusp of turning red, the car behind her sped into the lane and followed her.

Chloe rolled her eyes again and sped up. However, the douche behind her matched her speed, following too closely. The road had only a 35 MPH speed limit. Feeling annoyed, she slowed her vehicle even more than that. If he was in such a big damn hurry, he should probably not have honked his horn at her. The road was a closed single-lane, so he could not get around without breaking the law. Not that tailing her was actually permissible by law.

Not breaking 15 MPH, she coasted leisurely along her route home. She felt a certain level of smugness when the douche backed off. She kept up her crawling pace all the way to her own street. That would teach him!

She turned the corner onto her street, coasting up to the standard speed. Checking in her rearview once, Chloe felt a prickling discomfort. The tailing car had followed her onto her street. Clenching her fists on her steering wheel, nervousness sliding down into the pit of her stomach, she tried to decide how to proceed.

If she turned off onto a side street, the guy might follow her, but there would be no way to know if that was where he lived or not. She did not associate with any of the neighbors on her own street, much less on any of the other streets. But if she turned into her driveway, and the dude followed, she would be trapped with some random angry stranger, after having given him information about where she lived.

She stared intently at the car in her rearview, trying to recognize it as one of her neighbors’. It was unfamiliar to her, though. She did not pay her neighbors enough attention to recognize their vehicles, in any case.

Hoping to lose the follower, she pulled over to the roadside. As was standard procedure, the car came shifted to maneuver around hers’, pulling alongside slowly. As the unfamiliar car pulled up, the lightly tinted passenger window rolled down. She had expected a glaring stranger, who would maybe flip her off and then drive on. But he was not a stranger.

Chloe’s stomach sank into her toes, and her annoyed expression gave way to surprise. That was all she had a chance to register as the man drove on. He drove ahead of her, cruising down the street at regular speeds, and turned, as she knew he would, into her driveway. If cars could trudge, hers would. As it was, she moved at a pace that the dog-walking neighbor on the sidewalk was able to out-stroll. She could not avoid going home now, though. He knew she had seen him.

Pulling beside his car in her own driveway, she avoided looking aside at him, lest he meet her gaze. Her face was already flushed with embarrassment. If she had realized it had been him in the car behind her, she would most certainly not have tried to teach him a lesson about patience. Drawing a steady breath, she opened her car door, shouldered her purse, and climbed out of the car. As she rounded the back of the car, she glanced at his plates. She did not recognize it, of course, because it was a rental. He always got a rental when he was in town for business.

Her gaze lifted when she saw his heavy, powerful frame leaning against the side of his rented vehicle. It was not a good sign that he stood with his arms folded, keys dangling from between his fingers. His face was a dangerous version of blank. When she met his eyes, his gaze returned with blue-eyed force, and his brow twitched. She flushed a little more deeply.

“Hello,” she said, trying to keep her voice light. Lightness would serve her better than guilt, she thought. Guilt would mean he had a reason to punish her. “I did not realize you were coming to town this weekend.” She tried to smile, though she knew it was not the beaming smile with which she usually greeted him when he visited.

Both of his brows rose this time, but he remained resolutely silent.

She swallowed. Trying for innocence was not working. Besides the fact that he had witnessed her impudent driving practices, her face continued to grow more and more crimson as he stood watching her silently.

“Look, Anthony, I did not realize you were…”

He pulled abruptly out of his lean, away from his car, and Chloe fell silent. “Young lady, I think for right now, you had better refer to me as ‘Sir’.” His voice was quiet, but powerful. And his message was clear: right now, he was in charge.

He moved toward her house with a purposeful stride, and Chloe could do nothing but follow him. She could not walk away from him, and where would she go, anyway. This was her house.

When he reached the door, he stood aside, waiting for her. She fumbled in her purse for her keys, nervous under his expectant stare. She unlocked the door but when she stepped up, his hand reached past her and opened it for her. He held the door for her as she meekly scampered past him. He shut the door quietly and locked it while she waited for him in the front room. She hung her purse on its hook on the wall, then folded her hands in front of her.

Anthony came into the room. Standing with one hand on the doorframe of her kitchen, he studied her with calculating eyes. She watched him nervously from beneath her lashes, but was unwilling to speak now that he had asserted his dominance.

“I was under the impression you had a clean driving record, and that you never text in the car. Is this still true?”

She swallowed. “Yes.”

“Yes, Sir,” he corrected, not sharply but not forgiving.

Her face flushed a little hotter. “Yes, Sir. It’s still true. I don’t text in the car. I’ve never gotten a ticket for anything. I always drive the speed limit.”

He tapped the doorframe softly with an open palm. “You were distracted.”

Chloe wanted to cry. As it was, her voice wavered when she explained, “I looked down for just a second, to see why my music app had stopped working. Just one second, Sir.” She took a step toward him, hand outstretched, trying to turn him from the path he was contemplating. “I don’t usually! I swear. I am usually a very conscientious driver.”

He lifted a single finger, and she silenced immediately. She clasped her hands in front of her again and dropped her gaze.

“The distracted driving is only one issue. A serious one, that I expect after today will never be repeated. But I’m interested more in what happened after I alerted you to your distraction. I am interested in hearing an explanation of the behavior that followed. Because from my driver’s seat, it appeared to be brattiness.”

Tears threatened, and Chloe swallowed them down. “I was just annoyed when someone honked at me…when you honked at me. I got a little upset. I just…” She glanced up at his face and saw only a raised brow. No understanding. No compassion. She sighed. “You’re right: it was bratty. And I got really scared when you followed me, because I thought you were an angry stranger who might try to hurt me. It was really petty and stupid,” her voice faded to a whisper. “and I’m sorry.”

He gave a nod. “It was petty. It was foolish. It was dangerous. Fortunately, it was not an angry stranger. It was me. Although, for the record here, I am angry.”

She stepped toward him again, pleading hands reaching for his chest. She placed her palms on him and looked up into his implacable blue-eyed gaze.

“Please don’t be angry. If I had known it was you, I would never have done that. I’m so, so sorry.”

This exhortation only caused both of his brows to raise on his forehead again. “What do you mean, you’re sorry, Chloe? If you had known it was me, you might not have behaved in such a mean-spirited and reckless way? What sort of reassurance is that supposed to be? Frankly, I am glad it was me, and not some dangerous stranger who might not have been as tolerant of your petty retribution for an informative honk that was meant merely to help you see that your light had turned. I wince to imagine what might have happened if the person following you was in the middle of a gang initiation.” There were plenty of gangs at work in her city, so his concern was not one to be taken lightly.

She nodded repeatedly, trying to show him she understood. She did not dare speak, though, or she feared she might actually shed tears.

“I will not tolerate mean-spiritedness from you in any case. You know that. You are a lady, and as such, you will behave as a lady. Your behavior still counts, even in your car where—for some reason—people think they are shielded.”

“Yes, Sir,” she agreed, swallowing her tears down once more. She peered up at him nervously, and gestured beyond him to the kitchen. “Do you want a drink?”

The arched brows returned, and he halted her attempt to step into the kitchen with the lift of one powerful arm.

“Were you under the impression I was finished addressing this issue? I’m not.”

She let out a breath that was closer to a whimper than a sigh. “What are you going to do?”

His eyes flashed dangerously. “You already know what I’m going to do. I’m going to spank you.”

Chloe did whimper this time, but he did not give her anymore time to contemplate the inevitable. He stepped into the kitchen, crooking a finger for her to follow him. She followed immediately, because she knew how he could get when she delayed obedience to his gestures and commands. Particularly when she was calling him “Sir.” Anthony went directly to the kitchen implement drawer and rummaged inside it. Chloe’s stomach dropped a little more as she realized that this spanking would be different than his usual scenes with her. When he dropped in, he often gave her maintenance spankings, since her major reason for seeking a spanker had been to help her let go of past guilt and stress. He had only truly disciplined her twice since they had established their relationship. Once for disrespect to him, he had used a paddle. Once for not taking proper care of herself, he had given her a few licks with his belt. Both times had been very different experiences than the maintenance which was usually nothing more than his hand or the occasional hairbrush.

He retrieved a wooden spoon from the drawer, and Chloe drew in a sharp breath. Turning toward her, he used the spoon to gesture at the kitchen counter.

“Over,” he ordered.

She let out a tiny cry. “I’m really sorry,” she murmured, but she obeyed. Turning toward the counter, she bent herself over it and rested her cheek against the cool marble top. Her face had been red since she had realized whom she had been taunting on the road. The cool of the counter felt almost comforting, except her bottom was now available to her spanker.

Her reached around in front of her and unsnapped her jeans. With a single tug, he pulled them down until they became trapped at her knees against the lower cupboard. Chloe moaned in her throat when her panties followed. Usually when Anthony spanked, he removed pieces of clothing one by one, working down from her top layer.

Chloe let out a cry of shock as the wooden spoon cracked against her exposed bottom, pain blossoming where it landed. She clutched for the opposite edge of the bar, certain she could not resist reaching back without a handhold to keep her occupied. Another whisper of the spoon in the air, and the pain exploded across her cheeks again. She cried in her throat, surprised once again by the strength of this man’s spanking hand.

He spanked silently, letting the spoon do the lecturing. Chloe could not have focused if he had tried to speak to her. All she could do was pay attention to the whirring sound of the spoon in the air, of the smack against tender flesh, and of the cries ripped from her throat every time. She could not count, she could not repent, she could do nothing but wait for him to be satisfied.

When the spoon stopped coming, she was weeping against the counter. He rubbed her bottom with a gentle hand, but even that touch made her jump. He walked around the bar. She heard his footsteps as he went away, and then she listened as he returned. She did not move from her position because—as per their agreement—any time he told her to call him Sir, he made the decisions.

She heard him set down a chair on the tile floor. Shortly afterward, he said, “Come stand here.” She looked at him over her shoulder, and saw him sitting in one of her dining room chairs. He was pointing to the floor beside him. She moved, careful not to trip on her clothing, which slid down to her ankles when she crossed the distance to him. She stood beside his chair, where he had indicated. Grasping her gently by the arm, he directed her over his lap until her bottom was positioned upright. Humiliated, as she always was when he spanked her—no matter the reason—she gave a cry. His hand stroked again over tender flesh that still stung to the touch.

“It’s okay to cry, Chloe,” he told her. He always had to remind her there was no shame in her tears. Years of suppressing her emotions took some time to unravel. “It’s okay to feel sadness and disappointment.” His hand lifted, then returned to spank the center of her bottom. She cried out in despair. “It’s okay to feel shame.” Another swat, then another, and Chloe’s tears began splashing onto the tile floor beneath her. “What else are you feeling?”

His hand paused. She let out a sigh of relief at the cessation of the spanking, but when she did not answer immediately, his hand returned, with greater force. He played a staccato rhythm across her backside for several minutes.

“What else are you feeling?” he repeated, in exactly the same patient tone.

“I don’t know,” she admitted. It was hard to focus on anything but the pain.

He swatted again, hard, and she cried out.

“‘I don’t know' is not an acceptable answer. We talked about this: ‘I don’t know’ is what you say when you’re avoiding your feelings. I need you to label your feelings now. What are you feeling?”

She cried out, “Embarrassment.”

He answered that with a few swats, then he said, “Are you embarrassed about your petty behavior on the road today?” Another few hard swats had her jumping. “Or are you embarrassed that I pulled down your panties and spanked you on your bare bottom?” She whimpered, and he answered her with more firm swats with his hand. “Both?” His hand was as punishing as a wooden plank, she was certain of it. How he managed to make his hands so hard when they were often so gentle was forever a mystery to her. She rediscovered his strength and his power every time he spanked her. “Answer me.” His hand paused.

“Both,” she admitted. She gave out a cry, knowing she needed to be completely honest, since honesty had been part of their agreement. “But I’m more embarrassed about…” she shuddered, afraid to finish. “…you spanking my bare bottom.”

He made a sound in his throat like he was not surprised. “Well, your pants and panties being pulled down while you are made to bend over is certainly an embarrassing event. It makes sense to me that you would be embarrassed by it.” He started swatting again. “It would be embarrassing to go over my knee to be spanked like a naughty girl when you’re really an accomplished, intelligent, well-behaved young lady. It’s embarrassing that you decided to behave like a naughty girl.” He continued to pepper her bottom while he talked. “It’s embarrassing that instead of taking my time to warm your bottom and your emotions up slowly, I stripped you and paddled your backside over a countertop. You know, the more we discuss it, the more sense it makes to be embarrassed. I’m glad you recognized it.”

The lecture was only slightly less punishing than his firm hand. She tried to slide away from him, wanting to sink into the floor and disappear.

“Unh-uhn,” he toned in firmly, repositioning her and holding her in place with a strong arm. “There is no need to hide from the embarrassment. I want you to embrace the embarrassment. You earned it; you deserve to feel every bit of it.”

She was weeping freely now. “No,” she insisted. “It’s too hard.”

His hand touched her back, reassuring in its gentleness and pressure. “You are extremely strong, Chloe. Nothing is too hard for you, not even embarrassment. It is embarrassing to be exposed and vulnerable to me. Let yourself be embarrassed.”

She cried out at the gentle words, and then more sharply when his hand returned to her bottom with increased force and pace. She dissolved into the embarrassment, letting the flaming red of her face and the burning pink of her bottom be a testament to her humiliation. She cried out with every swat, letting herself give in to the situation. She collapsed across his lap while he spanked her soundly like a naughty little girl.

When his hand stopped, he stroked her bottom gently. “Good girl,” he said quietly. He held her there in his arms for several long moments, stroking her bottom with his now slack spanking hand. She continued to weep over his knee, but she also felt a strange sense of relaxation and release.

“I don’t think I’m ever going to tell you I’m coming into town again,” he said in his more casual tone. “This drive-up discipline made a stronger breakthrough for you today than our planned sessions usually do.” His hand smacked her bottom once again, and she cried out in surprise. She had honestly thought he was done. “I’m beginning to wonder if you and I are completely in accord about what constitutes ‘naughtiness’.” And he gave her a finishing swat to promise her that they would outline that particular issue with more clarity.

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Constructive Criticism

-Anthony is not the most likable person I have ever met. He could employ some cynical humor or barbed witticisms in his back and forth with Chloe.

-Chloe should really make an effort to get to know her neighbors, living there alone as she does. 🙄

-gang initiation ?  4 realz ?That's...a bit of a stretch. 

:P Good job. Superbly written. 

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-In the community where I grew up, there were drive-by gang initiations all the time. Flashing lights, honking horns...all of it. I had a friend hospitalized due to a local gang initiation that started as a drive-up behind his car. It's not a stretch at all.

-Chloe IS super anti-social. I'm glad you noticed.

-Yeah, I know Anthony is not likable from this perspective. It's the way I wrote him. He's not truly cynical, so barbed witticisms are out. But I suppose giving readers a snapshot of their total relationship without context might be a little unfair to the characters.

 

Thanks for reading!

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22 hours ago, sillygirl said:

-In the community where I grew up, there were drive-by gang initiations all the time. Flashing lights, honking horns...all of it. I had a friend hospitalized due to a local gang initiation that started as a drive-up behind his car. It's not a stretch at all.

You are correct. I can't know what's going on in every community...I grew up adjacent to an area rampant with gang violence in the 80's and early 90's...and gang initiations indeed took place...but the violence and crime has all decreased rapidly since 2000 or so.  It seems like a relic of the past rather than something people are fearful of RIGHT NOW.   I should have been clearer...thanks for your perspective!!

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Oh yeah, I wanted to say something about Chloe's reaction to the spanking, which was very brief..."a strange sense of relaxation and release" and that was all there was to it.  There is no self-introspection, sense of guilt, even an acknowledgment that she could have done better behind the wheel.  In fact, the entire focus of the spanking ends up being centered on her feelings of embarrassment from being fully exposed, with any lessons learned having dropped by the wayside. The entire episode is then dropped as they both ponder their next drive-by discipline encounter. 

I am not sure what, if anything, Chloe gained from this encounter.   

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No matter what Chloe got from the spanking or didn't get, I think you have a good technique. Very nicely written.

Nice to see a story that isn't written like all the others.

As to Anthony...I like him. I prefer a no nonsense spanker when its a serious nature. 

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