This short story is an entry in the 2003 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
The Night Of The Following Day
By
Your Brando body, which far surpasses lame imitations of the others, came back from class to your dorm room yesterday, your blue eyes raging and your face red with cold and anger.
You pulled your belt out of your blue jeans, wrapped half of it around your hand, which is honest, hardworking, rough and simply looking at it makes me want to die for you, pulled me out of my nest in your bed where I was curled up sleeping near the heater, twisted both hands behind my back and pinned them, my head pushed into the mattress, my breasts hurt under the weight of your anger, my bare legs vulnerable, and me too surprised to scream or fight.
You were yelling that you heard that I'd cheated on you and, not even giving me a chance to state my innocence, laid into me, your anger growing as I squirmed under your hand in pain trying fruitlessly to escape, my ankles rubbing against the cuff of your blue jeans.
You get tired from the effort and stop finally and I don't want to look at you, as you sit down on the bed near me. I feel your hot stare and roll back on my knees and look up, my lips near to bleeding from biting on them not to scream, with tears slowly dripping down my face, although I'm crying more from anger than from pain. I love you enough to let you hurt me...but why would you hurt who you claim to trust and love?
You look at me gently, satisfied with my punishment, cup my face in your hands and look into my eyes. All I want to do is stretch my faced up to be kissed until my anger at you has been replaced, but I can't because you lost your trust in me. I stand up, shakily dig on the messy floor for my pants and coat and shoes, and get dressed. I tell you, in a breaking voice, "I never did that. She lied to you. She's jealous that we are in love," then walk out the door.
The next afternoon, you knock on my door. As I let you in, you produce a bottle of wine from your book bag, pour two glasses and, handing one to me, say, in your best Brando voice, "I'm sorry. I should've been stronger than to believe that story."
I smile and want to splash my wine at you, just for revenge. But you kneel to kiss me and, whispering, ask to see my legs. I lie, facedown, for you to survey the fading constellations of bruises and welts.
I sit up and you push your belt buckle towards my face, silently asking me to make us match. I take off your belt slowly and brandish it at you. You look concerned and I can't help but laugh and stand to kiss you saying, "I'm not giving you the satisfaction of atonement. You'll just have to suffer and remember."
The End
I have to admit I stole my title from that of an old Marlon Brando movie, but I have never seen it, and this is not a parody of it.
© Copyright Sunny B, 31 August 2003
Reviews
Haron <haron(at)newsguy(dot)com>
This story is rather edgy, but well-written. What I like about it is that the protagonist, who has every right and reason to be angry, finds enough presence of mind to come up with an adequate response to her boyfriend's treatment. Very nicely done.
Sassy <sassy_jolene(at)hotmail(dot)com>
I enjoyed this story. It has some wonderful elements of surprise in it for me. The overall originality is great. The writing flows a little rough, but the story itself is definitely conveyed. The author does a wonderful job of showing the anger, confusion and remorse of both characters. The ending leaves this reader with feelings of victory and defeat. Good job author!
Mary <GemLadi(at)aol(dot)com>
This story was well written and fast paced, a tad confusing at the beginning but all in all a very good story.