This short story is an entry in the 2002 Soc.Sexuality.Spanking Summer Short Story Contest and is copyright by the author and commercial use is prohibited without permission. Personal/private copies are permitted only if complete including the copyright notice. The author would appreciate your comments
Category: Adult
In 1999, I posted an SSC story about a trip to the seaside. This story is about a return to that same place the following summer. The original story is at The Treehouse: http://thetreehouse.net/mija-stories/the-sea-shore.html But you don't need to read it. This story should stand on its own. :)
The Seashore II
By
The girl sniffled, clutching his shirt.
The boy held her, then gave her pen and paper.
"Write a letter telling what happened here."
She wanted to ask him for her glasses back, but couldn't. Instead she wrote as if dreaming, unable to read her own words. She told of this wild, private place, the spankings, his name, hers, their history and stories.
The wind blew around them as the page filled.
o0o
The boy and the girl had again crossed the links, this time under bright sunshine, odd for this Northern place. Dogs barked in the distance, calling impatiently to owners for balls and sticks and play.
She too longed for play, longed for privacy from families and work and people. Toward that, she could have done without the sunshine. The blue reminded her of home where she'd too soon return without him. Hands stuffed in her jeans pockets, the girl walked along next to the boy. He walked faster so she struggled a bit to keep up.
As they ventured onto the breakwater, the girl scowled. There were others here, trespassers. That was wrong. This place was his. No, it was theirs.
"We're not alone," she said, disappointed.
The boy looked at her and then across at the power plants. He watched the ships moving in and out of the river's mouth.
"We are. No one else matters"
He helped her down a stoney alley carved between the breakwater's rocks. Soon she stood facing him, hugging her small backpack.
He said nothing, just watched. He aways watched. Always saw her.
"Give me your brush" the boy said, not asking. She had it. She always did.
The girl nodded and fumbled, fingers suddenly stiff and awkward. Her heart thudded, eyes shy as she handed it to him. He took it, pocketing her glasses.
Voices floated around them, swirled by the wind. The boy put his arm around her waist, bending her over.
The brush made a quick sharp tattoo, the small pops hardly audible. The girl squirmed, feet strabbling for purchase in the sand. The boy pulled her closer, smacking the brush down her thighs.
Right. Left.
Once. Twice.
The girl cried out, but he held her fast.
"Be still. If you lift up your feet again, your jeans come off. Clear?"
The brush returned to her thighs.
"No," she cried, the wind catching her words. "No please!"
The hairbrush again rained down hard. Made to stand fast, the girl started to cry as the hairbrush paddled her. The boy punished on and on, his arm holding her bent and close.
At last, he stopped and pulled her to him.
o0o
Finally, the girl finished. The boy read over her words then slipped the pages into a plastic bag. They buried it under a heart-shaped rock on the spot where he'd spanked her.
As they walked back, the girl suddenly wished she'd moved her feet. Silently she wondered if the boy wished the same.
The End
© Copyright Summer, 2002 by <mijita@newsguy.com>. Please respect this copyright. Don't distribute or archive this story in any way except for personal use without explicit permission. No, it's not in the public domain. Ask first, okay? Thanks.
"The real is that which resists and compels symbolization." Pablo and Mija's Treehouse - http://www.thetreehouse.net
Reviews
Tami <tamishy(at)webtv(dot)net>
We are. No one else matters)
This story paints a picture of true love in its adolescent form. When love was so pure and right that nothing else matter. The theme almost take a backseat to passion the well-developed characters portray. Excellent Job.
RCG <rcg1574(at)yahoo(dot)com>
The obvious care and skill with which this story was written(and likely rewriten) make a simple straight forward plot enjoyable and exciting to read. Unlike many other contest stories, this seems more finished than others, with no wasted words and nothing lacking.
MollyB <mollyb(at)newsguy(dot)com>
A story that stands on its own or as part of the series, like the first one, this offers well-painted atmosphere and place. The spare writing adds to its emotional impact.