Megan Dooley: Burnin' Love (M/F)

Readers are strongly encouraged first to read the earlier Megan Dooley episodes, posted on this site on or about July 5, August 21, and October 19.

Collectively, these 3 stories have been read about 4000 times.

This time, YOU get to pick the ending!
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“Yes, Megan. I have a hairbrush.”

When she leaned the top of her head into the corner, she could see the hem of the pink bathrobe pooled at her feet.

“I mean with you.”

“Yes. With me.”

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Church every Sunday.

Sensible clothes, healthy diet, prudent budget.

Looking after her father.

Occasional dates, nothing too serious.

She’d been so good for so long.

No, Dad. We’re not serious.

I know, Dad. I just haven’t met the right guy.

“Who are you looking for? Mr. Perfect.”

“Well, yeah.”

“What happened with that real estate broker you were seeing? He seemed like a nice enough guy.”

“Maybe too nice. And it was insurance.”

“What’s wrong with that?”

The cruise to the Mexican resort had been her only real extravagance. Perhaps Mr. Perfect would compliment her form after secretly admiring her tennis skirt.

“Nice backhand.” He would mean “nice backside”, of course, but she would return the smile.

Sometimes when she felt lonely in her queen-size bed, Mr. Perfect would become cross with her after a day of scuba-diving in the Caribbean, jealous when she flirted with the golf pro, sullen when she discreetly removed his hand from her tush toward the end of a slow, tense tango.

“What’s the matter, honey? You seem out of sorts.”

Back at the hotel, she was fixing her hair before cocktails. “Is something wrong?”

“I’ll tell you what’s wrong, Megan.”

She’d done this before.

“Done what?”

She’d embarrassed him once too often.

“Oh, don’t be silly.”

He’d had it.

“You’re scaring me.”

Sometimes she finished when he told her icily that someone should have warmed her bottom a long time ago.

Sometimes it lasted until he took her by the arm – or tossed her over his shoulder – and headed purposefully toward the bed.

“Put me down. What do you think you’re doing?”

Occasionally, she allowed herself the guilty pleasure of a good talking-to, after which Mr. Perfect would apply a dozen firm alternating slaps to the seat of her evening dress.

“Ow! You’re hurting me.”

When she was done, Megan would wrap herself in the pink bathrobe and walk to the bathroom to rinse the musky funk from her fingers.

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“Why?” she peeped.

“What do you mean ‘why’, Megan?”

“I thought a hairbrush would be for really bad stuff.”

“Like backing the car into a tree when you’re nine years old.”

“Yeah.”

“How about raising your voice to me?”

“You already spanked me for that. Look at my butt!” She peeked over her shoulder.

He looked just the way he had that day three years before in his office.

The unexpected demand that felt like a criticism that felt like a reprimand.

You look like you’re going to punish me. I’ve been naughty, Max. Spank me. Take me over your knee, please don’t pull down my panties. NO! not a hairbrush NO! Ow! I’ll be a good girl Ow! Ow! I’m sorry. STOP!

“That’s enough from you, young lady.”

Huh?

It was Max, his hand cupping her triceps, squeezing the bone, leading her from the corner.

“Come, Megan.”

“Max, I’ll never do it again.”

“Never do what again?”

“Raise my voice to you, Max. I’m so sorry.”

They were halfway across the geometric tribal rug to the high-backed Arts-and-Crafts chair at the middle of the room.

“I love you so much, Max. I know better. Please?”

The “please?” trailed upward and out just as Max sat, impelling her forward.

Megan teetered momentarily on her toes, then toppled with a squeal across Max’s thighs.

“I’m not at all happy with your behavior this morning, Meg.”

“I know,” she squeaked. “Please. I’ll be more careful.”

“Uh huh. With your temper?”

He took hold of his bride’s hip to steady the precarious wobbling of her goose-bumped backside, pretty in punished pink.

“Yes. With my temper.”

“Seems to me I’ve heard that before. When was it? I know! Less than four hours ago.”

“Max, please. I understand. It won’t happen Ow! Oh, God. OW!”

“You are not to raise your voice to me, Megan.”

CRACK “Ah!” CRACK! “A-A-A-a-a-ow-w-w!”

“Am I being clear?”

“Yes. OW! Oh. OW!”

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Okay, folks. Now it’s YOUR turn!

Just click the “Leave your comments” link and vote for an ending. (You may vote to combine endings, and you may suggest your own.)

What’s your pleasure?

1 – A long, hard spanking in rich detail

2 – Cut to the after-spanking scene. Megan sobs promise after promise.

3 – Cut to a few weeks later. Megan knows that she has wanted limits all along, and she’s sweeter than ever. But she still flinches when Max tells one of his sexy spanking stories.

4 – One good hairbrushing – and those quartely reminders – have Megan on her best behavior. Too bad she slips up just when her sister’s in town for a visit!

Go ahead! Hit that link!