Waiting (M/f)
Posted: Sun Feb 10, 2013 2:42 pm
I thought I had timed everything just right. I knew everyone's schedules like the back of my hand and I knew I had at least an hour alone. That's why I dared it. And it wasn't the first time. No, far from it.
There I stood in a corner in the living room. I had my blouse rolled up and wore nothing but goosebumps from my waist down. The souvenir paddle from that roadside stand lay on the couch that I was standing beside. It had a post it note stuck to it. In broad, angry handwriting were the words:
"It's your turn to paddle her and make sure you do a good job this time."
Of course I had wrote the note, just like I had bought the paddle. No one else knew about these secret naughty girl sessions where I waited with my hands on my head for my paddling. Sometimes I waited for ten or twenty minutes, but I always had a timer set so I'd have plenty of time scramble into clothes before anyone else got home.
I used to do my naughty standing in my bedroom with the door locked, but only when the house was empty. I'd stand facing a corner that was hidden from the door, where you'd actually have to walk into my room to see me. The early times I kept my jeans firmly belted as I waited. Then, step by step I got braver. I wore a skirt with a belt with the skirt tucked into the belt, where I could quickly yank it down if someone came home early.
But that never happened.
As I grew braver I stood in a different corner, one where anyone opening my locked door could see me. And I tried it with jeans or shorts around my ankles. I'll never forget the first time I stood there in a bikini with my bottoms down, my bare bottom facing the locked door. I knew I could jerk them up in an instant and had an excuse ready to wear the suit, but standing there with my buns on display was awesome!
Then I tried the same pose, with the door unlocked. Before long I was standing with my jeans and panties down in full view of the open door.
Then came the paddle. I'd found it at a roadside stand. I had tried to joke with the woman at the cash register, hinting that the paddle might a souvenir I'd regret, but she hadn't picked up on that. But standing in a corner of my room, with the paddle lying tangled in my underwear, was great!
Soon I was exploring the house. I took baby steps the first few times, just facing the corner fully dressed, but slowly and surely I'd work through those fears. I'd move from upstairs to downstairs.
Now I was standing where anyone opening the front door would almost certainly see me. My nearest clothes where in my room and I was standing like a girl sentenced to wait until her paddler got home. It was great. It was wonderful.
That was when the door opened and my Uncle Stan walked in. He wasn't my real uncle, just someone who knew my folks forever so we all called him uncle. He had a key to the house, but I hadn't heard anything about him coming over that day.
I don't know which of us was more surprised. I think my heart stopped and I heard him stumble and almost fall.
He left long before the kitchen timer went off. The traitorous timer that had been there to warn me when to dress and had failed to warn me in time. Instead of using it to track my safety I used its signal as the sign that I could leave my corner.
The corner where my red throbbing bum was on full display. The corner I had been returned to after that paddle had done its evil work. The corner where Uncle Stan (who knew damn well that my parents never spanked me) set me in before he left.
That was the last time I stood in a corner in my house. Now, when I feel like a naughty girl I stand in a corner in Stan's house. He'll stand me there for long minutes before he spanks me and makes me wait there half an hour after he's done painting my backside red. Part of me wonders if this is wrong, but I love too much to stop.
Tonight he said he'd use a belt instead of that paddle. I can only hope he doesn't make me wait too long before he uses it.
Goodgulf
There I stood in a corner in the living room. I had my blouse rolled up and wore nothing but goosebumps from my waist down. The souvenir paddle from that roadside stand lay on the couch that I was standing beside. It had a post it note stuck to it. In broad, angry handwriting were the words:
"It's your turn to paddle her and make sure you do a good job this time."
Of course I had wrote the note, just like I had bought the paddle. No one else knew about these secret naughty girl sessions where I waited with my hands on my head for my paddling. Sometimes I waited for ten or twenty minutes, but I always had a timer set so I'd have plenty of time scramble into clothes before anyone else got home.
I used to do my naughty standing in my bedroom with the door locked, but only when the house was empty. I'd stand facing a corner that was hidden from the door, where you'd actually have to walk into my room to see me. The early times I kept my jeans firmly belted as I waited. Then, step by step I got braver. I wore a skirt with a belt with the skirt tucked into the belt, where I could quickly yank it down if someone came home early.
But that never happened.
As I grew braver I stood in a different corner, one where anyone opening my locked door could see me. And I tried it with jeans or shorts around my ankles. I'll never forget the first time I stood there in a bikini with my bottoms down, my bare bottom facing the locked door. I knew I could jerk them up in an instant and had an excuse ready to wear the suit, but standing there with my buns on display was awesome!
Then I tried the same pose, with the door unlocked. Before long I was standing with my jeans and panties down in full view of the open door.
Then came the paddle. I'd found it at a roadside stand. I had tried to joke with the woman at the cash register, hinting that the paddle might a souvenir I'd regret, but she hadn't picked up on that. But standing in a corner of my room, with the paddle lying tangled in my underwear, was great!
Soon I was exploring the house. I took baby steps the first few times, just facing the corner fully dressed, but slowly and surely I'd work through those fears. I'd move from upstairs to downstairs.
Now I was standing where anyone opening the front door would almost certainly see me. My nearest clothes where in my room and I was standing like a girl sentenced to wait until her paddler got home. It was great. It was wonderful.
That was when the door opened and my Uncle Stan walked in. He wasn't my real uncle, just someone who knew my folks forever so we all called him uncle. He had a key to the house, but I hadn't heard anything about him coming over that day.
I don't know which of us was more surprised. I think my heart stopped and I heard him stumble and almost fall.
He left long before the kitchen timer went off. The traitorous timer that had been there to warn me when to dress and had failed to warn me in time. Instead of using it to track my safety I used its signal as the sign that I could leave my corner.
The corner where my red throbbing bum was on full display. The corner I had been returned to after that paddle had done its evil work. The corner where Uncle Stan (who knew damn well that my parents never spanked me) set me in before he left.
That was the last time I stood in a corner in my house. Now, when I feel like a naughty girl I stand in a corner in Stan's house. He'll stand me there for long minutes before he spanks me and makes me wait there half an hour after he's done painting my backside red. Part of me wonders if this is wrong, but I love too much to stop.
Tonight he said he'd use a belt instead of that paddle. I can only hope he doesn't make me wait too long before he uses it.
Goodgulf