This is a story I entered in the Short Story Contest on Soc.Sexuality.Spanking. I’m not much of a writer in this sense, but I was convinced to try out the topic, and this was the result. There are a few grammatical errors I’ve noticed, but I decided to go ahead and post it as it was. I hope you enjoy it despite these!
He is almost never without it. Thick and supple, he wears it like a lucky charm. It is always in front of my eyes, a constant reminder. This is nothing out of the ordinary. His fellow businessmen wear similar adornments. Yet, the click of the metal is enough to bring me to my knees. Literally: to beg, to plead, to surrender- any or all of these at once.
Alternately there is the command: “Hand me my belt.”
I’ve never known why it holds such power over me above any other item in his arsenal. What I do know is that I can’t encounter it without staring. Every morning I watch him put it on and I get a tiny thrill. The thrill is bigger in the evenings when he takes it back off again. Watching as he slowly pulls it through the loops and absently folds it in half, there is always a hint of danger.
Sometimes, after I’ve paid for my transgressions, it lays discarded on the floor for a time. Inevitably I will come across it later still looped and offering a silent admonition.
In public there are times when I think that everyone must see the power of that object. I wonder how anyone can go about her daily life without so much as a glance. I wonder how many notice that I can’t keep my eyes away.
And, I wonder if they know my secret.