Revenge, Inc. Part Fifteen and Conclusion

Spanky Friends!!!

I hope you had a spiffy and fantastic week! Oh. Wait. It was (insert music sting here) Tax Week. Stupid IRS. Thankfully, we got done in Feb and received our refund. Which is already spent. On the new bed and other various and sundry thingys.

I had a great week. Going through a personal transformation (psychologically, not physically) and I’m feeling much better about myself. Better than I have in years. Yay! I think I’m finally unfucking my head! Yay! I’ve come so far, I can’t believe it. I highly recommend therapy to anyone who can’t move forward in their lives or who are suffering from childhood trauma. Or any kind of trauma. But first you have to find the right therapist. The first two people I saw were MORONS. Thankfully, I hooked up with an amazing human being who has been the guiding light through this gnarly process. And thankfully, she is snarky and funny and irreverent. And extremely kind and insightful. Yay for my therapist!

And I honestly thought that therapy would take away my love of spanking and being spanked. Instead, it’s unclouded my head so I enjoy spanking MORE. WHOO-HOO! Spank me, baby!

Speaking of which (or spanking of which) Hubby is working at home today. Whoo-hoo! Field research!!! “Honey, I need some help writing this scene. What I want you to do is chase me all over the house, wrestle me across your lap, pull my pants off and whack me good! Then fuck me. Wait. I need to take notes.” HEEEEE!!!!!!!!

Oh, Happy Easter to those who celebrate. I went to See’s Candies yesterday and Hubby is very happy with the chocolate eggs I bought for him. He’s very grateful. I think I’ll go find out just how grateful he is. Muaahahahahaha!!!!

Today I’m giving you a double-dose of Michelle and posting the last part and conclusion of Revenge, Inc. Next week, a new story!!!!

Have a great one!

Michelle


The next day around noon, Peter dropped Fay off at the airport. Thank God for airport screening and the fact he couldn’t follow her to the gate. She gave him a kiss and a wave and disappeared into the airport. After heading straight to the taxi stand, she was home fifteen minutes later. Still concerned he might be following her, she kept the front of her house dark. Thankfully, most of the tools for her jobs were in the garage.

At eleven that night, she and Mitzi waited in their darkened van for Michael Bascomb to emerge from his girlfriend’s house.

“This should be good,” Mitzi whispered, her high voice tinged with excitement. “You took off all the lug nuts, right?”

“Oh, yeah. His Porsche is going to be toast. This should be funny.”

Right then, Michael came out of the house, a spring in his step. A tall, dark-haired guy, he wasn’t bad looking. He started whistling.

Fay chuckled. “She must be good.”

“So along with his Porsche, what else did you do to him?” Mitzi asked.

“Got a load of gay porn in his name ‘accidentally’ delivered to some of his most powerful Mormon clients. This afternoon, I got into his office posing as a temp worker and sent off a bunch of emails to his client list and attached some pretty hardcore gay sex pics.”

Mitzi turned to her, mouth agape. “No! I thought you didn’t mess with the target’s businesses. I thought that was one of our basic tenets.”

Fay pursed her lips. “He slept with his wife’s sister, aunt and niece.”

“Oh.”

“He crossed the line, so I crossed the line. Sleeping with nannies, I get. It’s not good, but I get it. But your wife’s family? That’s sick.”

“Agreed—he’s started driving…” Mitzi started up the van and followed.

The Porsche started wobbling, then one wheel came off, the car skidded, sparks flew from the underneath the vehicle and it came to a stop. Mitzi pulled over and stopped, too.

Fay frowned. “Bummer, I thought all wheels would come off at once and he’d be sitting there on his undercarriage.”

“No, only one did. Kind of disappointing, huh?”

“I’ll say.”

Michael threw open his car door and leapt out, screaming. “Goddamn this! Who did this to me?!” He kicked the car. Balling his fists, he stomped around the car, waving his arms and yelling. “What’s going on?”

He started closely examining the cars on the block.

“Oh, crap, duck!” Fay ordered.

Mitzi and she hit the floor of the van.

A few moments later, Fay peeked up to see where Michael was.

She found herself staring directly into his angry face.

Screaming, she hit the door lock, but too late. He ripped open the door.

“Who the hell are you?!” he demanded.

She kicked him in the solar plexus, sending him reeling back into the middle of the street. “Drive!” she yelled, leaning out to grab the door.

Mitzi started up the van and hit the gas. Just as Fay pulled on the door, Michael grabbed it. Man, he was quick. Running alongside the van, he reached in and took Fay by the collar, his face red and twisted with anger. She punched him, his head jerked back, but he didn’t let go.

Mitzi screamed, “Get rid of him!”

“I’m trying to! Get off me, you wacko! I’m calling the cops!”

“Why are you following me? Why did you wreck my car? I’ll make sure both of you go to jail and neither see the light of day again!” he yelled, keeping pace with Mitzi’s acceleration.

Her heart pumping, adrenaline racing through her veins, Fay flailed, trying to loosen Michael’s grip on her shirt. But he was strong.

“I didn’t hurt your car, you crazy mofo!”

“Bull!” he yelled.

“Hurry!” Mitzi yelled.

Frantic, Fay bit down on Michael’s hand, he screamed and let go. She kicked him hard, he tripped and fell to the pavement. She grabbed the door and slammed it shut.

“Get us out of here!”

Mitzi hit the gas.

Fay’s heart beat so fast, she was worried she was having a heart attack. “We have to change out the plates on the van. Drive to my house, I have the extras in my garage.”

“God, that was close.”

“Too close.”

Mitzi pulled up into Fay’s driveway. Fay leapt out, opened the garage door and allowed Mitzi to pull in.

She shut the garage door and raced for her assortment of license plates. She grabbed the ones that belonged to the van and tore through her tool box. After retrieving a screwdriver, she hurried to the front of the van and began unscrewing the bolts.

“Don’t like those plates?” came a deep voice from behind her.

Fay and Mitzi screamed. There stood Peter in the doorway to the house, his face hard as granite. She nearly passed out.

“I’m late.” Mitzi dashed for the side door and was gone in under two seconds flat.

“Coward!” Fay called after her.

Peter leaned against the door jamb and crossed his ropy arms across his broad chest. “Looks like someone has decided she wants to experience the paddle.”

Fay put her hands up in a defensive posture. “Wait. Now before we get ahead of ourselves, we should discuss this. I know this looks bad, but I have a logical explanation.”

“Which you are currently trying hard to fabricate. Come on, missy, I have some points I need to make with you.”

Tears stung her eyes. “Peter, no. Wait. Look, I tried to get on the plane but it was delayed and—”

“Are you digging your grave even deeper here?”

She sighed, her shoulders drooped. “Probably.”

“Inside, now.”

“But… but…”

“Yes, that’s exactly where my focus is right now. On taming that pretty little ass of yours. No more arguing, inside, I want you in the living room.”

Shuffling towards him, her head bowed, she felt like she was going to her execution. Her legs shook, her heart raced, sweat beaded on her brow.

He moved out of the way and allowed her to pass. She considered running.

“Don’t,” he said. “I saw that thought go through your head. Making me any angrier would be a really, really bad idea.”

Though fear had her limbs nearly paralyzed, she somehow managed to get to the living room. He gave her a gentle push towards a chair standing in the middle of the room. She walked over and a long, wooden plank-like thing laying on the sofa caught her attention. She did a double-take. Her heart stopped.

He’d mentioned a paddling, but somehow she’d interpreted that as a heavy spanking. Not a paddling with an actual paddle.

His instrument of pain was a two-foot long fraternity paddle, but in her mind’s eye it appeared six feet long. Like a diving board.

He moved in front of her, a slight disapproving scowl on his face. If she wasn’t mistaken, his eye were twinkling with excitement.

This is why he wasn’t breaking up with her and storming off, he liked this game. Which was both good and bad. Good because he wouldn’t leave her; bad because he got off on inflicting a deserving punishment. And by his earlier demonstration with his hand, the man probably had a lot of practice with a paddle. Not good.

He hardened his gaze, reached down and unbuttoned her pants. Pushing them over her hips, he hesitated at her sex. He shook his head. “That’s for later.” With a mighty shove, her jeans were at her ankles.

“Step out of them.”

He held onto her while she kicked off her sneakers and the pants. He stood, now towering over her. “The shirt.”

She pulled the shirt over her head. Before she’d even got it all the way off, he unhooked it, releasing her breasts.

Her sex swelled with want. While she was terrified, this was such a turn-on. She’d never been so afraid, nor so horny in her life.

A slight smile played on his lips. “You take this like a good girl and I’ll reward you. But if you try to get away from me, you’ll have to take much, much more before I let you come.”

He nodded at the chair. “Bend over, hands flat on the seat.”

Her lower lip quivered. But she obeyed.

She leaned over and placed her hands on the hard wooden seat. He positioned her, raising her ass higher in the air and parting her legs slightly. He ran a hand over her bare buns, sending tendrils of delight through her sex, igniting her clit. She felt so deliciously vulnerable.

He stood behind her, she couldn’t see what he was doing. He ran something cold and hard over her ass and thighs. The paddle. Her heart pounded in her chest.

“This will hurt,” he said simply. “I’m starting with ten. And you’ll count for me. And you won’t let go of the seat. If you do, I’ll start all over again. No protesting, no begging. You will submit to this and whatever else I want to do you. You forfeited all rights when you lied to me. I own you. I own your ass, your pussy, your will. You are mine.”

She nearly fainted with lust. Her sex was slick with wetness.

Pain seared her ass, the impact was so great, she was thrust forward in the chair. Like fifty thousand bees attacked her ass at once. The agony lingering far past the strike; her whole body tensed. She realized she’d stopped breathing and took in a huge gulp of air. Wow, that was the worst of the worst.

Finally, at the last second, she cried, “One!”

“Good girl. I thought you’d forgotten. Which would have been a shame. My, my, my, look at that color. Nice rectangle there.” He rubbed her ass where he’d hit it. “Damn, that is so pretty,” he voice rough with lust.

Whack! She yelped. “Owwww! Two!” Her legs shook from the pain, it took all her focus to keep from dancing in place. This was terrible!

The weapon cracked against her sit spots, she felt branded. “Three!”

“Four!” Excruciating!

Smack! “Five!” she screamed and then broke into sobs.

Her entire body was on fire. She had no idea the human body could withstand this kind of pain and not bleed.

Peter rapid fire blasted into her butt with the last series of five. She could barely yell out the number before he smacked her with the next. Harrowing.

“Ten!”

He stopped, but the pain continued. Her whole body shaking, she gripped the seat for dear life. Tears spilled onto the chair and the floor, she cried softly.

The paddle clattered to the floor, startling her. The sound of a zipper; clothes hitting the floor.

Peter grabbed her hips, kicked her feet apart and entered her.

As he hit her g-spot, the lingering pain from her ass fueled her lust and suddenly, she was on the verge of coming.

What the hell?

“Bad girl,” he growled as he thrust into her, hard. “Such a bad, bad girl. Needs a lesson in who’s boss,” he rasped, his voice strained with lust. “You obey me or you pay the price.”

Screaming, she came, her head swirling with rapture. Pushing back against him, she tried to take him further inside. He moaned and jackhammered into her.

He thrust into her harder and harder, faster and faster. Again and again, she came, her mind so full of his steely cock, his dominance, his strength, she’d never been this turned on in her life.

Peter rode her, slamming against her g-spot, not once missing his target. One after another, she exploded into a succession of violent orgasms. Pounding the seat of the chair with her fist, she howled and wailed with ecstasy.

His legs jerked against the backs of hers, his hands bit into the flesh on her hips, he cried out and rammed into her so hard, it took all her strength to stop them from both toppling over the chair.

She delighted in his powerful thrusts, reveled in the feel of his hard cock inside her. Finally he slowed. When he withdrew, her knees gave way, she crumpled.

All at once, she was in the air, in his arms and he was kissing her. When he pulled away, his eyes sparkled with joy. “I love you, baby.”

She jerked her head back, her eyes flew open. “Did you just… did you just say the ‘L’ word?

He stopped and made a face like he was thinking. “Ummm.” He dropped his gaze to hers and burst into a huge smile. “Yes. I did. I love you, you horrible little brat.”

She burst into tears. “I love you, too, Peter!”

“There’s my girl,” he said and kissed her.

©2011, Michelle Carlyle