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: Edge This is edgy because it's scary, at least for me. It's about the things I fear most, betrayal, loss. About love and risk. It's part of a series but should stand on its own. At least I hope it does.
The Seashore III
By
The girl's back tensed as she spotted the stone pillars marking the entrance to their private place.
"This is the last time I'll come here," she thought.
The place was really the boy's. He'd shared it, but it would be his alone when they finally parted.
Grey sky pressed against greyer sea.
As they walked across the dunes, she noticed the boy's small bag. Large enough for his keys and the notebook he always carried.
The air smelled of decay.
Days before, in a moment of pained hope, she'd written him, suggesting a caning to purge the pain. She was afraid of the cane. Asking was hard. Getting no reply was harder still.
His bag was too small for a cane. Standing beside him on the breakwater she imagined falling. The crash of the water crushing her against the rocks. The girl shrank from the image as she shrank from memories of his words.
"I love you."
"I'll always love you."
"It's not you, it's me."
"I don't feel in love with you."
"I feel in love with---."
The wind whipped against her face, mercifully tearing the thoughts from her. Birds screamed. The girl looked at the rocks, attempts to find their heart shaped one doomed.
"Remember what we did here?" he asked.
The girl ducked her head, nodding to hide her tears. They walked amidst giant piles of driftwood and round stones. She could hardly breathe.
They were more alone here than they'd ever been. She sat to rest on an old railroad sleeper large as a bench. The boy sat beside her, his arm encircling her back. She wanted to thank him for trying and then free them both.
But she couldn't. Instead she sat, waiting for the boy to send her away.
o0o
Though she would try, afterwards, the girl couldn't remember his words, only her heart pounding in her ears. The boy hadn't brought the cane; he'd brought the ebony hairbrush. Instead of sending her away, he wanted her over his knee. Here, in the middle of the beach where anyone could see. If anyone were there.
The girl was afraid. It would hurt. She might be angry and fight him. Or maybe he couldn't. She wanted to stop this. But was silent as she let him bare her, knees to waist.
The spanking was hard and fast, the cold wind chilling her skin, making each stroke burn as though it were the first. The girl struggled, only to have her hand held behind her. Tears sprang to her eyes and flooded over as she sobbed, the howl of a little child.
The spanking seemed long, but it wasn't. As she came back to herself, the girl wondered how they could have done that. What could it mean, a scene so right at a time like this? She buried her face in his chest and cried.
As they walked back, the boy took the girl's picture. She smiled, eyes wide, full of fear.
And hope.
The End
© Copyright Summer, 2002
Reviews
Alex Birch <alexbirch(at)blueyonder(dot)co(dot)uk>
This is beautifully conceived and the possibilities here are infinite. The girl's fear of what the future held, allied to the significance of the spanking which left her with confused signals was expertly told. My only minor carp is that I felt that the romantic backdrop so well described rather forced the author to rush the ending to make the 500 word total whereas it cried out for maybe a little more. Very effective story nonetheless. I hope he stayed with her!!
Kate <ecattiva(at)aol(dot)com>
This is one of those rare stories so wonderful that I'm not even sure I can think of anything to say that would do it justice. The emotions of the narrator are conveyed with such excruciating tenderness, it's heartbreaking. I definitely concur that this belongs in the edge category. And I am very glad that you give us a glimmer of hope at the end or I think I'd have cried all day over it. Beautifully and magnificently done, Mija.
Mary Catherine <marycatherine(at)saintfrancis-sfg(dot)net>
A lovely story, well mixed between melancholy and hope. It feels as if the author put a lot of herself in here, which, for me, I always think is a good thing. Very detailed, I could almost feel the mist of the salt air as I read this story and definitely feel the fear and longing of the characters.