A HINT OF PETULANCE

'A Hint of Petulance' © Perry Symon Fowler, 1999. All characters and events 
depicted herein are purely fictional. Permission granted for internet 
publication by The Spanking Digest only. Copyright remains the exclusive domain of the 
author.

Jillian unbuckled the belt of her skin-tight Levis, her simmering green eyes 
flashing with helpless, emerald rage. Her wickedly girlish pout was tinted a 
hectic shade of pink: she'd just had been ordered upstairs to prepare 
herself for a spanking over Barry's knee, and she knew from prior experience 
exactly how painful this encounter was likely to be.
It's so unfair, she thought as she peeled the blue stretch denim down her 
thighs; she'd had the worst day on record; disaster following disaster from 
the moment she reeled out of bed with the alarm shrieking in her ears. She'd 
come home in an absolutely volcanic mood, and Barry hadn't been impressed by 
the truculent undertone in her opening words. He'd sent her straight to her 
room the instant the conversation had veered towards an argument.
A twisting spiral of curly brown hair fell across her right cheek as she 
hitched her thumbs through her pink satin panties. Here she was; two months 
shy of her nineteenth birthday, and she still had to BARE her BOTTOM 
whenever Barry decided her behaviour warranted a spanking. She didn't even 
deserve it this time; it was all his fault - asking how she was feeling in 
that PATRONISING tone of voice!!
Blushing with sheer, feminine fury, Jill slipped her flimsy, shimmering 
pants down to her knees, revealing her MAGNIFICENTLY FULL POSTERIOR with a 
sweep of rosy lace. Her fanny was a breathtakingly beautiful pair of 
alabaster orbs: soft and smooth and as pale as the moon on a clear winter's 
night. Barry often remarked on its flawless, milky perfection - especially 
when she was presenting it for an EXCRUCIATINGLY LONG PADDLING. His brevity 
was insulting beyond words!! What right did he have to comment on her 
derriere - particularly when he was about to TAN it the colour of a ripe 
raspberry?!!
He's going to SPANK me, she thought crossly, brushing aside the teasing 
strand of hair from her face, and I wasn't even naughty! It's just not 
right!!
Of course, at the very back of her mind, she knew she had no cause for 
complaint. She'd been over his lap a dozen times since they decided to 
co-habitate back in January. Spanking had been an essential component of 
their living arrangements, the central clause in their domestic contract. 
He'd warned her from day one that he wouldn't put up with any of her 
mischief: she'd be taken across his knee at the first sign of trouble.
She still couldn't believe that she'd actually AGREED to his terms.
Jill had always been a wilful, independent young woman; she'd never met a 
man capable of taming her impetuous Celtic nature. Maybe that was why she'd 
determined to move into his spacey three-tier apartment (actually a 
renovated warehouse); the thought of having her ERRANT YOUNG BOTTOM-TOPS 
well and truly SPANKED whenever she misbehaved had been as exhilarating as 
it was infuriating.
Jill stood with her feet slightly apart, bending from the waist so that her 
hair was stroking the carpet. Standing with her panties resting on her knees 
and her FIRM WHITE BOTTOM thrust out on open display, Jill waited in 
gilt-edged silence for Barry to come upstairs and deliver her reward. She 
had to remain doubled over in the can-can position while he subjected her to 
one of his pre-spanking lectures and conducted a hands-on inspection of her 
nubile ivory BOTTOM-FLESH.
It was so EMBARRASSING!!
Her pulse was ticking in her throat like an overwound pocket-watch. Despite 
her dread and impotent, childish anger, Jill could feel the first teasing 
flutter of tiny wings at the base of her tummy. It had been nearly two 
months since her last full-blown SPANKING, two months since she'd been made 
to PULL DOWN HER OWN PANTIES and go over her roomie's muscular thighs with 
her FIRM, RIPE TUSHIE staring at the roof.
She thought back to that night, close on eight weeks ago, when Barry had 
given her a THRASHING right in the living room. They'd been out at their 
local watering-hole with a few friends, and she'd been wearing that long red 
spandex dress she'd bought last spring - the one that fit like a glove and 
had grown men weeping with desire at a single glance. She'd fallen into one 
of her trademark sulking tempers, and came within a whisker of ruining the 
evening for everybody.
She'd known she was in serious trouble when Barry took her by the wrist and 
told her they were leaving; he'd put up with enough of her ill-humour and 
lacerating backchat for one evening. The taxi-ride home had been an epic of 
suspense. Jillian had just about melted in her KNICKERS imagining how sore 
and RED her INSOLENT LITTLE BOTTOM would be once he'd finished with her.
Nor had she been disappointed in the least.
Taking her through to the living room, Barry had ordered her to bend over 
and pull up her dress so that the skirt was inverted over her head in a 
gleaming red tube. He'd then instructed her to take her shiny, red silk 
PANTIES all the way down to her ankles, so that she was naked from waist to 
heel. She'd felt humiliated to the limits of her endurance: her DELICIOUSLY 
PLUMP CHEEKS had quivered with anticipation while she waited for Barry's 
huge, steely palm to descend on her defenceless hynie.
Following the customary, bald-faced scolding, Barry had taken Jill under his 
arm and launched into a STUNNINGLY PAINFUL HAND-SPANKING which had her 
squirming and gasping for breath after only thirty seconds. He was a tall, 
powerfully-framed man with massive shoulders and biceps the size of 
basket-balls. Lifting her completely off her feet so that her high heels 
were dangling nine inches off the carpet, he'd LASHED her frail, tender 
BOTTIE until she was kicking her long, shapely legs in protest, her silky 
crimson DAINTIES fluttering precariously from the end of one stiletto.
Unfortunately, five endless minutes suspended in the crook of Barry's elbow 
was merely the initial phase of her punishment. Making himself comfortable 
on the black leather sofa, he'd settled Jill over his knee with her HOT, 
THROBBING BOTTOM raised towards the heavens. Dismissing her childish 
remonstrations against the severity of her penalty, Barry had lifted his 
steely right palm -
And her spanking had REALLY begun!!
Laying in with his entire shoulder, Barry had WHIPPED her FANNY with a 
patient, meticulous hand, targeting the delicate curve of flesh overlapping 
the thigh and buttock. Ignoring the girl's yelps, shrieks and cries of 
outrage, he had polished Jill's backside for a good ten minutes, working up 
a merry pink flush which had extended halfway down to her knees. His 
longstroke technique was heartstoppingly thorough; by the time he'd 
finished, Jill's tail was burning with the fierce, wavering heat of a late 
July sunrise.

Hearing Barry's footsteps ascending the staircase, Jill snapped instantly 
back to the present. Her discipline was at hand, so to speak; he was coming 
upstairs to give her SPOILT LITTLE BOTTOM the nice, long SPANKING it so 
richly deserved. She felt her breath catch in rising panic; the ominous 
sound of Barry's final approach always made her weak at the knees. Much as 
she loved these periodic excursions over her boyfriend's lap, she invariably 
viewed her imminent punishment with extreme trepidation.
The bedroom door opened and Barry strode in; a loping, masculine figure in 
faded blue jeans and an ancient, creaking brown leather jacket. He was an 
arrogantly handsome young man with long, dark-brown hair and neon blue eyes 
that never failed to capture the gaze of every female in his immediate 
vicinity. He crossed the floor with the easy, confident grace of a man who 
can have literally any woman he wants.
Jill bit her lip to control the waves of tension flooding her system. Rage 
and fear stormed through her belly in equal proportions. Barry was the most 
arrogant, conceited, egotistical creature she'd ever known, and now he was 
going to SPANK her; put her over his knee and SMACK her BARE BOTTOM as if 
she were nothing more than a disobedient child!!
'Well, here we are again' he observed in his driest voice. He stood looming 
over her with his arms folded across his enormous chest, looking down on her 
fanny from a great height. Jill bristled at the smooth note of contempt 
underscoring his voice; how dare he talk to her like that?!! Her naked, 
chubby bottomtops shook with repressed ire as she struggled to keep her 
mouth shut.
She managed to maintain a smouldering, hair-trigger silence while Barry 
subjected her to a seemingly interminable tongue-lashing. Jill hated these 
unending, sarcastic lectures; they reduced her to the level of some unruly 
brat awaiting swift justice. Barry's scoldings always ended with her being 
taken over his knee: once his spiel began, Jill knew that her SPANKING was 
inevitable. Worse still, he often drew the scolding out to increase her 
anxiety, knowing exactly how to tune her like a musical instrument.
'Now', he concluded, bringing his hands together with a sharp, resounding 
CRACK that made her wince, 'I assume you know you've got this coming, young 
lady?'
'Yes', Jill replied in thinly disguised rage, her face glowing with a 
subtle, pastel radiance.
'Good. You know what comes next, Jillian'.
'Noooo,' she moaned through clenched teeth, 'it's not fair, Barry !! Don't 
make me say it!! Please!!'
'You know how much you want this, Babe: don't make me tell you twice'.
Swallowing the last bitter morsel of her self-esteem, Jill took a deep 
breath and replied:
'I've been a terribly naughty little girl, Barry. I need a WELL SMACKED 
BOTTOM. Please put me over your lap and SPANK ME.'
'With pleasure', Barry remarked serenely.
Taking her hand in an unbreakable grip, Barry led her over to the SPANKING 
CHAIR. She tottered along taking tiny baby steps, her legs constricted by 
the glistening pink underpants laced about her knees. She was almost 
swooning with desire now; these last few seconds before her spanking were 
unspeakably erotic. She felt ready to collapse at the lightest stroke of his 
hand across her firm young bottie.
Barry sat down on the chair and stretched Jill over his lap amidst a gale of 
noisy objections (strangely, she offered no resistance whatsoever). Ignoring 
her with a practiced ear, he settled the girl into a comfortable position, 
allowing himself a clear, unobstructed swing at her pale, unprotected 
bottom. Placing one large hand on the small of her back to prevent her 
wandering too far, he paused a few seconds to indulge himself in a lingering 
view of her utterly magnificent posterior.
Jill's bottom was perfectly round and gloriously full. Mirror smooth in 
texture, it trembled like liquid ivory. Soft and flawless and 
breath-takingly beautiful, her luminous, heart-shaped buns yearned for a 
good, hard hand-spanking. Barry shook his head in frank admiration; sweet 
and trim and milky-white, it was easily the most spankable bottom he’d ever 
seen.
Dazzling, he whispered under his breath.
Reminding himself that business preceded pleasure, Barry shifted his weight 
slightly to the left, preparing to raise his right arm. Jillian's cheeks 
clenched convulsively, ready to receive the first burning hand-print on her 
faultlessly nubile rear.

Barry lifted his hand.

******************************

Part Two

Lying over her boyfriend's thighs with her nose suspended inches from the 
floor, Jillian shivered as the heavy, black shadow of finality settled over 
her. The moment had finally arrived, Barry's hand was poised at mid-swing, 
and there was no escape. She clutched her botts together in quavering 
expectation.
Barry's wide, open palm swept down, slicing the air like a speeding bullet.
Jill gaped in shock as Barry's hand bit into her soft, defenceless bottom. 
The pain was sharp, sudden, and enormous, a bright flare of scarlet agony 
which covered her entire derriere and reverberated halfway down to her 
knees. Her eyes widened until they looked ready to pop out of their sockets. 
Gasping in distress too vast to fully articulate, Jill could only writhe 
helplessly about on his lap, kicking her tiny feet in mute protest.
Barry laid in with strong, satisfying strokes, nodding in vague assent as 
Jill squirmed about in a desperate bid to avoid his powerful, punishing 
smacks. Redoubling his efforts, Barry worked her up to a warm, glowing 
madder pink. Her firm, tender cheeks trembled beneath his hand, bouncing and 
jiggling with each echoing clap. She could almost see it turning maraschino 
red as each stunning spank descended.
Bucking and humping on Barry's lap, Jill opened her mouth and shrieked at 
the top of her lungs. Barry continued to let fly with the steady assurance 
that comes from years of experience, applying his palm to the most sensitive 
areas of Jill's fragile little derriere. The warm carnation hue of her 
BOTTOM was quickly stoked up to a blushing carmine.
Face calm with quiet determination, Barry alternated between each of his 
girlfriend's trembling bottom-cheeks, five smacks to the left, five whacks 
to the right. Arching her spine in sheer, unadulterated agony, Jill kicked 
her slender legs and beat her fists on the carpet: the searing, torrid pain 
was utterly excruciating. Each flashing smack ripped a long, keening shriek 
from Jill's lips. Barry leaned in twice as hard, working systematically 
around the girl's bottom and upper thighs.
Jill continued to wail and kick and scream, frequently trying to protect her 
tormented rear with one of her diminutive hands. Her spanking threshold 
being surprisingly low, Jill was quickly reduced to sobbing pleas for mercy. 
The pain was unendurable, tears coursed down her face in thick glistening 
trails. At the end of eight minutes, her LUSH, FRAIL BOTTOM had been whipped 
up to a bright, furious crimson. Lashing her head from side to side, she 
sprayed her tears across the room. She'd NEVER been so SORE in her entire 
life.
Impossibly, the SPANKING continued.
Jillian's shrieks of pain kept time with Barry's racing tempo, her legs 
kicked from the knee, her jeans and underpants creeping down to her shins. 
Barry concentrated his attention on the bibulous overlap between her 
thigh-tops and bottom-cheeks, watching the flesh wobble and quake with each 
scathing impact.
Nine minutes, ten minutes, eleven, twelve. Constantly increasing the speed 
and tempo, Barry laboured his way up to a seething, palmfire crescendo. 
Reaching the fourteen minute mark, Jill felt as though she'd been over his 
knee for around two years. His arm swung in a strobing blur, crimping the 
flesh with its force. Eyes clamped shut against the pain, she screamed 
uncontrollably, tears flooding down her face and dripping from her sweet 
pixie chin.
Reaching his zenith, Barry rounded off with ten thunderous swipes to his 
girlfriend's tapering thighs, tightening his hold while she jumped and 
bucked about on his knee, howling loud enough to shack the windows in their 
frames.
Then it was over.
Finally.
Pausing to study the result of his efforts, Barry inspected the dark blush 
he'd managed to raise over his girlfriend's outraged little bottom: a deep, 
steamy magenta, verging on the colour purple. This had been one wild 
evening, no dispute on that regard. He'd given her everything she'd earned 
for herself, coming home with that hint of petulance tainting her words. 
Well, the debt had been paid. Time to move on to the next phase of the 
'treatment'.
Taking her by the shoulders, Barry helped the exhausted, sobbing young woman 
up to a sitting position. She curled up on his lap like a Siamese kitten, 
folding her legs and leaning her head against his shoulder. She placed her 
arms around his neck, dissolving gratefully against his huge, pump-muscled 
chest.
'Had enough?' he asked.
'Yes', she nodded, wiping her cheek dry with a slim hand, 'that was 
wonderful'.
'Yeah,' Barry agreed, massaging her tummy with strong, gentle fingers. It 
had been wonderful, probably the best session they'd ever had together. Even 
better than that spanking he'd given her two months back, the night she'd 
worn that stretchy red dress down to the Beer and Brew. Now that had been an 
evening to remember: Jill hadn't been able to sit comfortably for close on 
three days (and required a cushion for nearly a week after that). Well, this 
one broke all the previous records, and would be the proverbial hard act to 
follow.
He slipped his hand beneath her white cotton blouse, easing his fingers 
below her straining underwire. Using his free left, he began sliding her 
jeans down her legs. Jill shifted in unison with his movements, moaning 
softly as his rough fingers teased their way through her bra. She was 
incredibly aroused, he could tell by the pungent girl-scent rising from her 
fragrantly perspiring skin. He lowered his face and nibbled gently at her 
right earlobe.
The Levis fell to the floor with a slurring denim whisper, her gossamer 
briefs following a second later. Jill raised her mouth and feathered her 
lips across his. She was trembling; an excited shiver rushed through her 
torso like a fever. Expectation bubbled up within her belly; her pulsating, 
swollen nipple seemed to be rubbing against his blunt, stony fingertips with 
a will of its own. She felt an insistent, wet heat between her thighs, and 
every muscle in her body turned to liquid.
'Barry?' she asked quietly, closing her eyes as his hand enveloped her 
breast.
'Yes..?' he replied, slowly pulling up the hem of her blouse to expose her 
flat, smooth belly.
'I want you to take me', she sighed, 'take me to bed, right now, don't make 
me wait. You can do anything you like to me. Anything.'
'Alright', he agreed, easing the blouse over her head.
Her pink satin bra seemed to be bursting its straps. Barry unfastened the 
hooks with a ginger touch; he loved watching the straining d-cups suddenly 
loosen as the brassiere slid off her shoulders. His pupils dilated as he 
walked his gaze over her exquisitely naked form; her wide, sensuous hips, 
the sweeping curvature of her narrow waist, the reddish-brown arrowhead of 
her pubic thatch.
Gathering her up like a sleeping child, he rose carefully to his feet and 
swung around towards the bed, noting that the covers had already been turned 
down. Must've done that the moment she entered the room, even before she'd 
unzipped her jeans. Well, that made sense; he'd told her to get ready, and 
they'd both known what was coming.
Placing her on the mattress, Barry stretched himself over Jill's denuded, 
supine body. He made himself comfortable as she meshed her thighs about his. 
Her fingers were already plucking at his shirt, fumbling the buttons through 
their holes. He sank his teeth gently into the fleshly junction of her 
throat and shoulder.
Anything he liked.
Anything!!
Barry, she sighed, touching the moist pink tip of her tongue to his ear. Her 
fingers started working the shirt down his long, wide back; he could feel 
her glossy nails scittering over his shoulder-blades. A single line of sweat 
appeared on his right temple.
God, Barry thought, bringing his mouth to hers.
This was going to be good.
____________________________________________________