by Megan McCoy
She’d been given a spanking that was for sure. The huge fine she’d expected and forty hours—forty hours!—of community service. That was a week of work! Plus, she had to have them done in the next two months or she’d go to jail. Jail. Like prison in handcuffs and strip searched and scuffs instead of heels and in her world orange was not the new black! She could not do jail! How could she do community service though? She had a wedding to plan and stores to run and classes to take, and the judge had not seemed impressed by that either. Nope, she’d banged her hammer down and bam! Sent her away. Plus she had to go back and turn in proof of her service. Proof! Forms to fill out! So now she had to tell someone. What had happened to her? She just didn’t understand. This was not what she expected at all. All she’d done was have a little scuffle with a policeman who wouldn’t listen to her! Why was that a crime?
Feeling her phone go off, she ignored it. She didn’t want to talk to anyone right now but the waitress at her favorite place. She had to figure a way out of this and she needed some shots of courage to do it. Taking a deep breath, she pointed her car in the direction of the tavern and tried to stop her hands from shaking.
She was Veronica Fischer. She would figure this out. The most important thing was that Logan did not find out about it. Never, ever, ever. Yes, sneaking and lying were wrong, but not mentioning it was a very viable option. She didn’t have to tell him everything. He didn’t tell her everything. She had no idea what he was doing today, after all. ‘Work’ was such a generic thing. Who knew what he was actually doing and where and with who. She sure didn’t. It wasn’t any of her business! She didn’t need to know! He didn’t need to know what she did, either. They weren’t married yet and really, had she known what her first husband did all day? Obviously not. He never asked about her day, so that was a moot point, but probably that’s how most marriages worked. She would have to find some place to ‘volunteer’ and just get it done before the wedding. Well, that was mandatory – her wedding was in three months and her service had to be done in sixty days. That was five hours a week. Right? Her mind was racing and she couldn’t take her fingers off the wheel to do math.
Okay, five hours a week. Or maybe she should do them all at once and get them over with? First she had to find a place to work, and submit it for approval. Shuddering, she thought of being dressed in an orange jumpsuit and working picking up litter on the side of the road. At least she didn’t have to do that. She could only imagine Lori and Lani driving by and seeing her. She’d never get on the Art Council board if they knew about this! They could never know. Where could she work that would hide her from public view, that no one would ever know? How was she going to keep this from Logan?
Letting out a huge sigh of relief, she pulled into her favorite place. She’d be feeling better in just a few minutes. She could not wait. Her phone went off again, and again she ignored it. She needed a drink before she talked to anyone. She was just too stressed. How often did a person go to court? Once in her life so far. She hadn’t even had to go for her divorce. Just sign a few papers. Why would people be lawyers or judges? Court was horrible. Never again would she go, she shuddered. She could submit her paperwork to the court and as long as it was completed properly, she’d be done At least that is what she understood; Ronnie shuddered again as she got out of the car.
“Hi, hon!” She sailed into the room where she knew everyone was looking at her. From her frosted hair to her designer pumps, she knew she looked the epitome of the successful business woman she was. And she was, Ronnie reminded herself. Successful. An up and comer in the social circle. Not a jail bird. Not someone who was a common thief. No. She’d just tried to stand up for herself to the police officer. Nothing more. Yet, she was being punished. It just wasn’t right. Her brain could barely comprehend what happened.
“Thanks, hon. It’s a two drink day,” she told her and took a big swallow. Yes. That was what she needed. She felt better already. This would work out. She took another drink, and sighed. She would find a secret place to work an hour or two a day. There was a thrift store that the Arts Council sponsored and gave the money to the local food pantry. Maybe there? Surely the court would approve of that place? She could work there. It would be win/win. She would do her court ordered community service and then the Arts Council would see she really wanted to help people and belonged on the council. That she should be large and in charge. Yes. She could hang up clothes and... whatever else they did there. It would work out. She took another big drink and finally looked at her phone when it went off again.
“Logan! I just got to the cafe for lunch since I had to fast this morning for tests. How is your morning?”
“What did you order and why didn’t you call me?” Ronnie felt a thrill of nerves. Was he mad? “I’m sorry, I just got out and drove straight here. You know I never text or talk and drive.”
“Never?”
“I try to never,” she insisted.
“Here’s your drink, extra strong.” The waitress put it down and Ronnie smiled at her while covering the phone and hoping Logan didn’t hear. She did not need him on her today on top of everything else.
“Your food is there?” he said.
“Yes,” she nibbled on a lemon wedge so she wasn’t lying.
“Okay. I will see you at your house tonight. Want me to bring Chinese?”
“That sounds great,” she lied again. How many times was that? Three? Four? She didn’t like lying, but dang. “See you then!”
Okay. She would enjoy her drinks. Then go home and call the thrift store and see if they took community service hours. Work on the business class and be all pretty for Logan when he came. Taking another long swallow, she smiled. Life could be worse. Things would be fine. Right? She stretched her leg out and admired her shoe. Of course they would be.
Grabbing her phone, Ronnie hit speed dial. “Katrina, I’m so sorry about last night, I was not feeling well. Can we reschedule a private time with just me and you? I have some details I want to go over. Give me a call.” There. Now she was in charge again. Taking another long sip she smiled. This wasn’t the worst thing that could have happened. Yes, it was bad, but not horrible. She could do this She could do anything. She was going to be Veronica Fischer-Jones, the woman who lunched with the ladies, worked tirelessly and selflessly at the thrift store that fed the hungry, who married very, very well, and looked damn good doing it.
“Hon! One more as soon as you can.” She felt better already.
Chapter 4
“No.”
“What do you mean by that?” Logan smacked the dreaded wooden spoon against his hand and she shivered.
“What part of no confuses you?” Yeah, smarting off to the man with the spoon equaled intelligence. Not.
“The part where you think you aren’t going over my knee and getting your butt blistered,” he said, pulling out a kitchen chair.
“No,” she repeated and put her hands over her bottom. Not that it would help but it made her feel a little better for the moment.
“Did you read the contract?” he asked.
Ronnie stomped a well-heeled foot and pouted. “You know I didn’t.”
“Bet you will wish you did fairly soon now,” he said, moving the chair just a bit. So he could see the TV – the ball game – while he was spanking her? What was wrong with this picture? “The class was supposed to be finished three days ago. Is it?”
“I had things to do!” she wailed and wondered if she could squeeze out a few tears or claim stress or something. She did not want to be spanked. But did he care? Nope.
“And what was number one on your list of things to do?”
“Our wedding!” she flashed at him.
“You have a wedding planner to take those details off your pretty shoulders.”
Her shoulders were pretty? Who would have thought? Not her. “I have a district manager to take care of the stores. I don’t know why I have to learn business!”
“What if he decides to stea
l from you or lie about the numbers?”
Ronnie stared at him, mouth open. “Why would you hire someone who would do that? You are supposed to be taking care of me!”
Logan laughed and she glared at him. There was nothing funny about a spanking and why did it seem to put him in such a good mood?
“I am taking care of you. This is just another way. Now, head over to the corner and stand there awhile and try and think of a good reason you didn’t get your class done.”
“If I think of one, will you not spank me?” She turned hopefully to the corner.
“No chance, but I might go a little easier on you.”
“No, you won’t,” she muttered. Dang it. She hated corner time. It was so boring. Her heels were great for dancing but not for standing in one spot for long periods of time. Her legs ached after a while.
“Let me see that gorgeous white ass before I turn it red,” he said, like it was a suggestion but she knew it wasn’t.
Sighing, nose in the corner; she wondered why she did this. She didn’t have to, contract or no contract. She didn’t have to raise her skirt to show off her bottom, but she was. She didn’t have to stand in the corner, yet here she stood. She, of course, didn’t have to go over his knee for a paddling, and yet she would. What was wrong with her? She didn’t like being spanked. A lot. More than a lot. Not at all. It hurt! She felt mortified and as if she had no control, and oh, yeah, it hurt! There was nothing in it for her. Nothing. She just wasn’t going to do it.
Then she thought about her court case.
Guilt was eating her up and she didn’t know why. She shouldn’t. It was like a spanking; she’d done a naughty thing and had been punished. Well, she would be punished, soon, when she started doing her community service, anyway. Lifting her skirt to show off her thong, which was useless for either protection or modesty, but on the upside, no panty lines under her dress, she blushed at his low whistle. “You do have the most magnificent butt,” Logan told her. “Very spankable.”
“It doesn’t want or like being spanked,” she informed him, knowing it was futile. If he said he was blistering her butt, he would. She couldn’t help it, as she settled into the corner for however long he decided, her mind drifted to court. Maybe she should tell him about it now since she was going to get spanked anyway. Nah, that would be ridiculous. The last thing he needed to know about was her court case. She needed to think about class. If she told him about court, that would be a good reason to not have finished class. Maybe? But she wasn’t telling him about that, so she needed to think of another reason, other than boring. Which it was. She didn’t like business classes. Who would? They offered nothing she was interested in. What was she interested in? Well, Logan. She liked him a lot, when she wasn’t either standing in the corner or over his knee. Shoes. Wearing them, not selling them. Getting her hair done. She had an appointment tomorrow and needed to decide on a new color. She really wanted purple again, but she was doing purple for her wedding, so that was out for now. She wanted to make an entrance in her white gown with the purple accents and purple hair and purple pumps.
“Well?” Logan asked her.
Dang it. She was supposed to be thinking about why she didn’t finish her business class. Seriously, she was standing in the corner, showing off her mostly bare bottom and thinking about her hair. And shoes. There was always the shoes. “I’m sorry?” She offered.
“Well, you’re going to be really sorry in a few minutes,” he said. “But I’m asking for an excuse. In fact, why don’t you get that pretty butt over here right now, and drape your little self over my lap. Maybe that will help you focus.”
And so it begins, she thought. At least it would be over soon, well, she hoped so anyway. So why was she stalling? “Few more minutes to think?” she begged.
“Nope, you’ve had long enough and were probably standing there thinking about shoes anyway. Get over here.”
How did he know? Dropping her skirt, she turned around. “Logan, come on,” she begged again, as the reality started to set in and her heart began to hammer. “Don’t, please.”
“You’re so cute when you beg. If only you used your brilliant mind for good instead of slacking.” He patted his lap. “Bring it on over.”
Ronnie shook her head and tried to think of some words. “I’m sorry I didn’t get it done. Obviously my sense of priorities was out of whack. I’ll try much harder this week. I’ll stay up all night and get it done.”
“Unless you cry yourself to sleep after your well-deserved paddling,” he said.
That did not bode well. She felt a thrill of fear run through her. She did not like being spanked at all. One of these days she was going to have to read that contract.
“I’m not signing a marriage contract,” she informed him, still not moving.
“Yes, you are. Don’t make me come over there and get you.” He held up three fingers and she swore he was smiling. Why did making her cry put him in such a good mood? It was like he was a sadist or something. “One, two…”
Fine. She stomped over to him, shooting him with her best death glare. “I am not a toddler!”
“Remind yourself of that in a minute when you are bawling like one. Over you go.”
Glaring at him one last time, and trying to calm her breathing some, she bit her lip and let him grab her arm and pull her over his lap. She sure hoped he had a good view of the ball game. She didn’t want him to miss anything, after all, you know, while he was spanking her. Heaven forbid that would interest him.
Her hands rested on the floor and she braced herself as she felt him pulling her thong down after he raised her dress again. “Logan, no!” she whined.
“I like watching you kick them off,” he said as if that were an explanation, while pulling them to just above her knees.
Kick? Did she kick? Well, yeah, she tried to block his hand with her feet sometimes. Maybe that is what he meant. How would she know? She was too busy focusing on the pain in her butt to know anything else that was going on. Wasn’t that his goal after all?
Why didn’t he just paddle her and get it over with? Did he know what the anticipation did to her? It was just mean. “So have you thought of an excuse for not finishing your class on time?” he asked as his finger traced down her bottom, making her shiver. She did not like her bare butt on display to him, but, he’d seen it before and she was certain he’d see it again.
“I was busy and it’s hard,” she whined.
“Hard?” he asked as if he were curious. “Do you not understand the content? Is there too much math, do you need a tutor?”
Why couldn’t they have this conversation like adults while her rear wasn’t bare and over his knee? How could that possibly be a bad thing?
“You’ve done very well on the content so far,” he said.
Ronnie squirmed. Seriously? He wanted to talk now? They so could have done this before he sent her to the corner.
“Hold still,” he said.
“You try holding still with your naked butt over someone’s lap and that someone wants to make conversation,” she complained. On with it, already!
“Nah, I think I’ll pass on that one,” he chuckled and it was all she could do to refrain from pulling his leg hair. “So what suddenly became hard about the class?”
Really? He was still going to carry on a conversation? Oh and it was the looming court case, of course, but she sure wasn’t telling him that. Then after the court case, she’d been too preoccupied trying to figure out what to do and how and when to do it to concentrate on the class.
“Taxes!” she finally managed to gasp out. “I don’t understand them.”
His hand came down hard on her bottom and she squealed. Wasn’t expecting that.
“You aren’t learning about taxes,” he said. “You are working on the chain of supply and demand this chapter. You aren’t even signed up for a tax course.” He smacked her hard. “Yet”
How did he know that? “Are you checking up on me?” she
asked as accusingly as she could with the blood rushing to her face.
He smacked her again and made her gasp and squirm. Hold still, indeed. Wasn’t happening. His issue, not hers. “Of course I check on your progress.” He smacked her again, in sync to his next words. “You. Should. Have. Read. The. Contract.”
“Ow! No more! I’ll read it,” she cried. Would she? Probably not, but if it got him to stop… Why did she always forget how bad this hurt? “Logan, no more, please! I’ll finish tonight! I – ow! – I promise!” The last word ended on a shriek as she realized he was developing a rhythm, and that never boded well. “Please! Ow! Stop!” He’d switched to the dreaded wooden spoon she realized. Where had he been hiding that? Did it matter? Nope.
“Logan!” she shrieked. “No!” Okay, now she was crying. She hated when he made her cry and kicked her legs trying to block his hand. He would kill her, she knew it! “No!” Her hand came back to block the horrible wooden spoon and he smacked it twice before he caught it and held it on her back. That hurt too!
“When I give you a deadline, I want it done,” he said, and kept smacking her with that horrendous spoon. Like he didn’t even care he hurt her. Like he wanted to. Did she want this? No?
“Logan!” Stop, please, please. Anything. I’ll be good, I will!” Suddenly, she wished she’d confessed to the court date because surely this was almost over and it could never be worse. Panic set in, and she wiggled and tried to roll off his lap and kicked as hard as she could and felt a shoe fly off. This was nothing like the elegant lady she wanted to be. All she wanted to be was, “Done! Please done!” Was that even coherent? It must have been, because suddenly he was done, and the absence of pain made her cry in relief. Was it done? Finally? His hand rubbed her hot throbbing bottom and she sobbed again, because it felt so much better than the smacks.