Spank Her Very Much

by Holla Dean

  Minutes later Brent asked Gina, “You okay? Feel better?”

  Gina nodded and said, “Yeah, it’s weird, but I do feel better. Sort of lighter; like things aren’t worrying me right now. But how long will it last?”

  “We’ll see, hopefully until our job is done on Saturday night. If you get all wired up again before then, I can always spank you again.” Brent had a lascivious twinkle in his eye as he looked at her.

  “How do you know it was the spanking and not the great sex?”

  “Experience. Usually I’ve found spanking releases whatever crap is fucking with your head and settles you down. Kind of like a reboot does when your computer starts doing weird shit.”

  Gina wondered how much spanking experience he’d had. “How many women have you spanked?”

  “A lot. I’ve always liked spanking and I was about twenty-three the first time a girl asked me to spank her. Since then I’ve spanked nearly every girl I’ve gone out with. I’m thirty-four now, so yeah, I’d say a lot.”

  “Are most girls...uh, agreeable to you spanking them?”

  “Not always. Some have dumped me because of it. But I’d say the majority got something out of it.”

  Gina had to admit, if only to herself, that the warmth she was feeling in her rear end did seem to add something to the sex. Even now that the sex was over, her ass was still feeling the effects of the long spanking and giving her a nice, warm feeling.

  Gina remained calm and focused on the big job. She had no more jitters, no more doubts.

  Saturday afternoon was spent going over their plan once more. They ordered pizza for dinner and at nine o’clock they changed into their black clothes and got ready to go do the job.

  Gina put on a red jacket that she’d leave in the car and Brent had on a blue one. It made them less conspicuous if they weren’t dressed so much alike, all in black if they had to stop somewhere along the way.

  They parked half a mile from their target and walked briskly to the home. It was not a gated community and the mansion sat on a few acres with lots of trees providing shadow and cover as they made their way to the window that Brent had disabled the sensor on.

  He opened the window and they waited in case the alarm went off. After a minute of silence, Brent pulled himself up and into the formal living room. He reached down to grab Gina’s hand and helped her up.

  First they went to the library/office that Brent had seen on his previous visit to the home. They searched quickly but found nothing of real value. The art on the walls might have been valuable, but neither Gina nor Brent had enough experience with art to bother with it. Besides they didn’t have a fence that dealt with artwork.

  They quickly went up the stairs and found the master suite. Gina went to the huge closet while Brent checked the suite for a safe. She found lots of high-end jewelry and stuffed her pockets with it.

  She checked behind the clothes in case a safe was hidden there and found another door. She turned the doorknob and it was unlocked but very heavy and hard to pull open.

  “Brent,” she called out. “Come here, there’s a door to a small room in here.”

  Brent came and took a look. “I think it’s a safe room. This door is probably fireproof and bulletproof. The owners can come hide in here if there is a fire and they can’t get out or if they’re in danger from a break-in.”

  They both went inside and looked around. There was a small sofa and chair. One wall had a wide bench along it with a couple of sleeping bags rolled up at one end with some pillows. The little fridge was filled with bottled water and there were protein bars on a shelf above the fridge.

  Brent was checking out the bench and realized that the lid lifted. When he opened it he saw blankets and some books and magazines. He shifted the blankets and there was a built-in safe with its door facing upwards.

  The football player must have felt the safe was well hidden for the combination lock was all but worthless. It was the easiest one Brent had ever cracked open. He turned the lever and lifted open the door.

  Gina watched as Brent’s mouth fell open in what she could only describe as shock. She glanced over to the safe and now it was her mouth that fell open.

  “Holy shit!” She whispered.

  “Yeah,” Brent said. “Holy shit.”

  The safe was about three feet long and two feet high and it appeared to be packed solid with cash. Bundles of hundred dollar bills, fifty dollar bills, and some twenties.

  “How much do you think is there?” Gina asked.

  “No clue,” he answered brusquely. “Let’s grab it and get the hell out of here.”

  Gina’s shirt was tucked into her pants and she began pushing bundles of cash down her shirt from the neckline. She arranged them neatly by working them down with her hands on the outside of her shirt and lining them up all around her torso. Though she usually didn’t carry a bag with her on robberies, tonight she had brought along a small knapsack with string straps. She pulled it out now and filled it with more bundles of cash.

  Brent tucked his shirt in and Gina unbuttoned it and stuffed bundles around his upper body and then refastened the shirt. The safe was empty, it was time to go.

  They stepped back into the closet and Brent shut the heavy door to the safe room. He rearranged the clothing to make it look undisturbed.

  As they walked into the bedroom Brent noticed a glow coming from outdoors. He slipped to the side of the window that faced the front of the mansion. There were at least five squad cars pulling up to the main door.

  “Shit,” he said. “Cops! There must have been a silent alarm or motion detector I didn’t spot. Come on, we’ve got to run.”

  Gina’s eyes were huge and it was like she was frozen in place.

  Brent grabbed her hand and pulled her into the hallway. He stopped at the head of the stairs and listened. Nothing; the cops weren’t in the house yet.

  “We’re gonna run down the stairs, to the rear of the house and out the back door. It looks like they’re all in front so we should be good. Once we’re out, run like you’ve never run before. I’ll be right behind you.”

  “No!” She cried out. “You can run faster than me, you go first.”

  “You’re first, baby. If they get close I’ll take off in another direction and divert them away from you. If they catch me, keep going. I’ll need you to bail me out.”

  Gina was scared. She’d never had cops show up at one of her break-ins. Of all the times she’d robbed houses, this was the biggest haul and the damn cops had to show up.

  She took a deep breath and said, “Ok, let’s go.”

  They ran down the stairs, through a hallway, then the kitchen, a large laundry/mudroom, and out the backdoor.

  “Keep going, babe,” Brent encouraged her from behind. “You’re doing great. Once you hit the grass, run as fast as you can.”

  She didn’t answer him. The money was heavy under her shirt and shifted. It made running awkward and she felt ungainly. But she pushed herself and kept going, afraid to look back. Afraid she’d see the cops chasing them; afraid she’d see Brent getting caught.

  Gina heard voices what she hoped was far behind her and Brent. She thought they were yelling for them to stop.

  They came closer, the voices were louder.

  “Stop! Police! Stop now or I’ll shoot!”

  Brent panted behind her and said, “Keep running, don’t stop. They probably won’t shoot.”

  They were on another property now and there was a small man-made stream. She tried to leap over it and stumbled when her foot landed on the opposite side half in the water. But she caught herself with her arms outstretched, pushed up and kept going.

  She heard a splash. Brent must have fallen! She turned around and saw he was getting up again.

  “Run! Keep running!” He yelled at her.

  The next sound she heard was a gunshot. She thought she heard Brent grunt. She wanted to stop and see if he was all right. But she knew she should keep going. She had the bul
k of the money under her shirt and in the knapsack.

  Gina blocked everything from her mind and ran. She’d run through four of five different properties now and she didn’t hear any voices anymore. She was so tired, so out of breath.

  She slowed her pace and worked her way towards what she was sure was a street light. If she could just rest for a moment and catch her breath she’d be able to step out on the sidewalk and get her bearings so she could head for her car.

  But she was afraid. She was dressed like a burglar; all in black tight fitting clothing and a lumpy torso thanks to all the cash stuffed under her shirt. She’d stick out like a sore thumb.

  Where was Brent? She didn’t even notice when he was no longer right behind her. Had he been shot? She hoped not.

  Gina slid down to the ground and rested against a big tree. She could see the headlights of cars on the street not too far from where she sat. She was pretty sure she was safe for now.

  In a few minutes she saw three squad cars with their lights flashing drive down the street. Were they the same cops from the house? Had they given up? Or were they just cruising the neighborhood hoping to find the burglars?

  She waited for half an hour and then slowly moved to another tree, closer to the street. She sat and watched the cars. No more police cars drove by.

  Another half hour passed. All seemed clear. It was now two o’clock in the morning and she was exhausted. But she couldn’t stay where she was. She had to get home before daylight.

  Gina got up and started walking in the direction of her car. She stayed off the sidewalk, close to the trees and bushes that lined this stretch of the road, ready to duck and hide if she saw a squad car.

  When she came close to a brightly lit intersection, Gina slipped further into the bushes and tried to determine the best way to go. There was no way to avoid being visible while she crossed the street.

  She decided not to cross at the intersection. She turned right and walked further up the cross street until she could cross in relative darkness. Then, staying in the shadows of trees and bushes, she walked back on the other side of the road to get back to the direction that would take her to her car.

  Finally she made it to her car. She unlocked it and slipped inside locking the doors. She shoved the knapsack behind the passenger seat and then started her engine. On the back seat lay her red jacket and she put it on.

  Gina spent the next hour driving around the area slowly, hoping to find Brent. But there was no sign of him. She pulled out her cell phone from the glove box but it did it her no good. Brent’s cell phone was in the glove box too.

  She drove into the garage of her townhouse just after four o’clock. Taking the knapsack from the vehicle, she entered her kitchen and found Brent sitting in the dark at the kitchen table. He was holding a bloody kitchen towel tightly to his upper left arm.

  “Oh my god! Are you all right?” She rushed to his side after she flipped on the light.

  “Yeah, I think so.” He answered. “I think I’ve got the bleeding almost stopped now.”

  “You were shot?!”

  Brent nodded his head and said, “It went straight through the fleshy part. I don’t think it’s serious, just hurts like hell.”

  “I’ll take you to the emergency room right now! Just let me get this money out from under my shirt.”

  “No! If we go to the emergency room we’re busted.”

  “But what if you get an infection? What if you have muscle damage or something else is messed up in your arm?”

  “We can’t risk it. You’ll have to take a look at the wound and clean it up as best you can. There’s no other choice.”

  Gina knew he was right, but this was not something she was comfortable with. She wasn’t a doctor! Or even a nurse for that matter! She came close to passing out at the sight of blood!

  The first thing she did was fish all the money out from under Brent’s shirt. Then she took the money out of the knapsack and from under her shirt. She put it all into two gym bags and then stuck them under her kitchen sink behind all her cleaning supplies. If they ended up having to call 911, the money had to be out of sight.

  She brought her iPad to the kitchen table and Googled the phrase ‘How to Clean a Gunshot Wound.’ She found several answers and after reading a few of the answers she knew she’d have to make a run to the drugstore.

  There was a small first-aid kit in the master bath and she went to get it. She put a pot of water on the stove to boil. Then she washed her hands at the sink and put on some latex gloves.

  Brent was very pale and looked like he might pass out. Gina carefully pulled the kitchen towel away from his arm and was relieved to see only a small amount of blood seeping from the wounds. The hole at the back of his arm was small, but the exit wound at the front was considerably larger.

  Once the water boiled, she filled her kitchen sink with cold water and set the pot of boiling water in it so it would cool enough for her to use on his wound.

  She cleaned the two wounds as well as she could with what she had available. Then she taped sterile gauze to both holes and helped Brent to the bedroom.

  “I have to go the drugstore for some supplies.” She told him as she got him settled down on the bed and put a few pillows under his arm to elevate it above his heart. “Just lay here and rest, I’ll be back as soon as I can and then we’ll clean it again with saline and some Betadine.”

  Brent nodded that he understood and smiled slightly. “Can I have some aspirin?”

  “No, the internet says it can thin your blood and cause more bleeding. So not yet. We have to make sure all the bleeding is stopped before you can take anything like that.”

  She bent down and kissed his forehead. “I’ll be back soon.”

  Gina went to three different drug stores so as not to draw attention to how much she was buying. She bought saline solution and some gauze bandages at one, Betadine and tape at another and more gauze bandages, tape, and antibiotic ointment at the final store.

  Back at home again she found Brent sleeping. At least she hoped he was sleeping and not passed out. He did seem to be breathing normally and she hated to wake him up, but it was important to get the wounds as clean as possible quickly.

  Brent groaned as she gently took off the bandages on his arm. Now that he was awake, she helped him back to the kitchen where she could pour the saline solution and the Betadine on the wounds while he stood at the sink.

  So far, so good. The wounds looked clean. She was concerned that the exit wound was large enough to need stitches, but there was no way she could do that. Gina bandaged him up again and poured him two shots of Jack Daniels to help him sleep.

  Brent didn’t want to lie down again. He wanted to know how much money they had gotten away with. Gina settled him as comfortably as possible on the sofa and then she went and got the gym bags from under the kitchen sink.

  She dumped them out on the living room floor and began sorting them into three piles; 20’s, 50’s, and 100’s. Then she began to count. In less than an hour she had to start over. She had reached over two hundred thousand dollars in her calculations and just didn’t believe that could be right.

  She began to make piles of one thousand dollars and every time she had ten piles, Gina combined them into one pile of ten thousand dollars and then taped a piece of paper around the bills and labeled it with a big black 10K. When she had ten packs of ten thousand dollars each she put them in a plastic grocery bag with a note taped to the bag that read 100K.

  Brent had eagerly been watching her but after she passed the five hundred thousand dollar mark he couldn’t stay awake any longer. The blood loss and the trek back home had worn him out.

  Gina continued to count until noon and then had to stop. She had not slept at all the previous night and it was all catching up with her. She had reached one and a half million dollars and wondered what the hell they were going to do with the money.

  Four hours later she woke up to Brent moaning. He had a fever no
w and she checked his bandages. The small wound seemed fine and showed no sign of infection. The larger exit wound at the front of his arm did not look so good. It was inflamed and looked like it had some pus forming.

  She went to the bathroom and got a bottle of peroxide. She put a few folded up old towels under Brent’s arm and then poured the peroxide on the wound. It bubbled all around the wound and then she cleaned it again with saline and Betadine. Since he wasn’t bleeding, she gave him some aspirin hoping it would help bring his fever down.

  Gina opened up a couple of cans of chicken noodle soup and heated them. She spoon fed Brent who claimed he wasn’t hungry. Then she put a cool cloth on his forehead and another one on his chest. She had read on the internet that it was a good way to keep a fever down.

  It was time to start counting the money again. She counted till midnight and was done. They had a total of 3.2 million dollars. More money than she or Brent had ever seen in their lives. Now if she could only get Brent well again.

  Brent’s fever continued for the next four days. Gina was very tempted to take him to a hospital and say the hell with the money.

  The only thing that kept her from doing that was that in one of his lucid moments, Brent had made her promise she wouldn’t do it unless his fever reached a hundred and five. So far it had gone just over a hundred and three.

  Gina nursed him day and night. She fed him canned chicken soup, gave him aspirin, bathed him with cool cloths, cleaned his wounds, and changed the bandages.

  The news reported the burglary of the football player’s home and claimed the robbers got away with nearly five million dollars in cash. This information caused Gina to get all the money out and recount it.

  Her first count had been accurate and she could only surmise that the football player was trying to get more out of his insurance company. But she didn’t think insurance companies paid out on stolen cash. After all, how could you prove it was ever there in the first place?

  Late in the afternoon of the fourth day of Brent’s recovery he woke up in a cold sweat and Gina took his temperature. The fever had broken; he was almost back to normal. He was hungry for more than canned chicken soup so Gina left him alone in the townhouse for the first time since she’d gone out to buy supplies for his wounds. She bought steaks, potatoes, and ice cream for dessert.