came back to go to college here. And it was strange to be around English people again. Sometimes I nearly forget where I belong. I love Paris, but it’s what I’m most used to.”
“You don’t think you’ll settle here, then?” I asked.
“I don’t honestly know. My mother wanted me to come back; I think she feels guilty for all the years I was away from my dad. In the end I agreed to a trial.”
“So do you see your father often then?” I asked.
“Yes, quite a lot; you finished your food?”
And so ended that conversation; Paris he’d talk about all day, England was a real no-go. I wondered why. I said I just needed the ladies’. On the way in I paid for the food and then used the bathroom. When I emerged, Michael was standing at the bar and he didn’t look too happy.
“What’s wrong?” I asked, totally perplexed.
“Get in the car,” he snapped icily.
Hell’s bells! I knew nice Michael was too good to last. He’d been hanging around for twenty-four hours now; his time limit was up. He opened the door and slammed it behind me.
“What the fuck is eating you?” I shouted. The redheaded temper was well roused now and I wasn’t putting up with this crap from anyone.
“I thought we had sorted the paying issue before we went for lunch,” he said stonily, in complete contrast to my yelling.
“Fuck it, Michael, could you not just say thank you and let it go. I earn too, you know,” I shouted again.
“Control your temper, Siobhan, and don’t swear at me. I don’t like it.” His voice remained steely calm; the more I showed my temper, the more he seemed to rein his in.
“And I don’t like you acting like a fucking baby,” I snapped.
Michael headed back on the M40, driving too fast. We both kept a stony silence until we arrived at my house. I jumped out of the car, slamming the door. As I went in the house, I was surprised to see him follow me in. I called out to see if the girls were back, but to my consternation, there was no reply. Michael went uninvited into the living room. I followed him and he looked at me, fury emanating from his eyes. But still he retained control.
“Michael, this is bloody ridiculous, being so angry over me paying for lunch; you paid for everything yesterday and I just wanted to show my appreciation. Stop being such a spoiled ungrateful brat.”
“You think this is about you paying for lunch? Maybe it started that way, Siobhan, but honestly, the way you yelled and swore, you were like a three-year-old having a tantrum. With a foul mouth like that, you deserve a good spanking.”
Uh oh, he really shouldn’t have said that. The headmaster image was back in my head in a flash and boy, was I ready to play out the role of the naughty schoolgirl. The thought was really hot. I could feel something deep inside me stirring, an awakening of my true self.
“Do it then! Put your money where your mouth is. You’re angry, you want to spank me, then go ahead,” I challenged without engaging my brain. What the fuck was I thinking?
“ Pardon ?” His eyes were wide and his jaw kind of hanging open.
“You heard me. I said if you think I should be spanked, then do it,” I goaded further.
That was it. He grabbed me by the waist and dragged me over to the sofa. Before I knew what was what, I was flipped across his lap and he was trying to pull down my jeans. They were a snug fit and he couldn’t get them down.
“Bare yourself,” he snapped.
“What, you must be joking.” I felt his hand come down hard twice, once on each buttock. I squealed.
“I’m going to keep doing this until you bare yourself, then I’m going to give you twenty hard smacks. Now it can be just those twenty, or it can be as many as you want.”
Bloody hell, that was some choice, I quickly undid my jeans and rolled them down.
“And your panties,” he warned, raising his hand. I quickly obliged.” Now back across my lap.”
I felt each one of those stingers on alternating cheeks, a firm
“You don’t think you’ll settle here, then?” I asked.
“I don’t honestly know. My mother wanted me to come back; I think she feels guilty for all the years I was away from my dad. In the end I agreed to a trial.”
“So do you see your father often then?” I asked.
“Yes, quite a lot; you finished your food?”
And so ended that conversation; Paris he’d talk about all day, England was a real no-go. I wondered why. I said I just needed the ladies’. On the way in I paid for the food and then used the bathroom. When I emerged, Michael was standing at the bar and he didn’t look too happy.
“What’s wrong?” I asked, totally perplexed.
“Get in the car,” he snapped icily.
Hell’s bells! I knew nice Michael was too good to last. He’d been hanging around for twenty-four hours now; his time limit was up. He opened the door and slammed it behind me.
“What the fuck is eating you?” I shouted. The redheaded temper was well roused now and I wasn’t putting up with this crap from anyone.
“I thought we had sorted the paying issue before we went for lunch,” he said stonily, in complete contrast to my yelling.
“Fuck it, Michael, could you not just say thank you and let it go. I earn too, you know,” I shouted again.
“Control your temper, Siobhan, and don’t swear at me. I don’t like it.” His voice remained steely calm; the more I showed my temper, the more he seemed to rein his in.
“And I don’t like you acting like a fucking baby,” I snapped.
Michael headed back on the M40, driving too fast. We both kept a stony silence until we arrived at my house. I jumped out of the car, slamming the door. As I went in the house, I was surprised to see him follow me in. I called out to see if the girls were back, but to my consternation, there was no reply. Michael went uninvited into the living room. I followed him and he looked at me, fury emanating from his eyes. But still he retained control.
“Michael, this is bloody ridiculous, being so angry over me paying for lunch; you paid for everything yesterday and I just wanted to show my appreciation. Stop being such a spoiled ungrateful brat.”
“You think this is about you paying for lunch? Maybe it started that way, Siobhan, but honestly, the way you yelled and swore, you were like a three-year-old having a tantrum. With a foul mouth like that, you deserve a good spanking.”
Uh oh, he really shouldn’t have said that. The headmaster image was back in my head in a flash and boy, was I ready to play out the role of the naughty schoolgirl. The thought was really hot. I could feel something deep inside me stirring, an awakening of my true self.
“Do it then! Put your money where your mouth is. You’re angry, you want to spank me, then go ahead,” I challenged without engaging my brain. What the fuck was I thinking?
“ Pardon ?” His eyes were wide and his jaw kind of hanging open.
“You heard me. I said if you think I should be spanked, then do it,” I goaded further.
That was it. He grabbed me by the waist and dragged me over to the sofa. Before I knew what was what, I was flipped across his lap and he was trying to pull down my jeans. They were a snug fit and he couldn’t get them down.
“Bare yourself,” he snapped.
“What, you must be joking.” I felt his hand come down hard twice, once on each buttock. I squealed.
“I’m going to keep doing this until you bare yourself, then I’m going to give you twenty hard smacks. Now it can be just those twenty, or it can be as many as you want.”
Bloody hell, that was some choice, I quickly undid my jeans and rolled them down.
“And your panties,” he warned, raising his hand. I quickly obliged.” Now back across my lap.”
I felt each one of those stingers on alternating cheeks, a firm
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