I'm late!

Sitting in the minibus, I smiled, closed my eyes, and thought about him. At 5:00 PM, he would be waiting for me at the metro entrance. I pictured his face, his attentive, joyfully expectant eyes, the smile that would appear as soon as I got out of the minibus. I imagined us walking in the frost, holding hands, entering the dimly lit entrance of a Stalin-era high-rise, taking the elevator to the 11th floor, kissing in the elevator... and then... then...

 — Stop at Peterka! — Someone's voice brought me back to reality.

 — What, Peterka?! Did we already pass Rizhskaya?

 — Ages ago!

The couple across from me looks at me and giggles. I'm not in the mood for laughter; I grab my bag

and push my way to the exit. Oh my God, what a dreamy fool I am!!! What to do? I finally get out, look at my watch. Horrible! 5:07! And I still have to run back! I dial the phone number with trembling fingers. In my heart, there's hope—maybe he's late himself?

 — Yes. Such a calm voice.

 — Sashenka, I'll be there in 5, no, 7 minutes, I accidentally missed the stop!

A sigh.

 — Alright.

Oh my God, how I run! After all, every minute of being late — means one stroke with the switch. I cross the road, closer, closer, that's it, I'm there.

 — You're late. He states the fact. — I've been waiting for you in the cold. How could you?

I look at the digital clock on the pole — 5:15.

 — Yes, I whisper. I know I deserve it.

Then he smiles for the first time:

 — 15 times.

 — Yes, 15 times.

Do you know how much it hurts to be whipped with a switch? I recently found out. Sasha whips my bare bottom for my transgressions. And being late — is one of them.

We walk side by side. Because of the impending punishment, my lower abdomen tightens, my mind goes blank.

Sasha senses that I'm scared, that everything inside me resists the spanking, but I will submissively present my bare bottom to the rod... In moments like these, I want it all to be over quickly, I want, as soon as we enter the apartment, right in the hallway, to pull down my panties and receive the due hot punishment, but I get timid, I delay the punishment hoping he'll forget, forgive... No, that doesn't happen.

 — I'll whip you — then forgive, — says Sasha. So, I must cry and endure.

Here we are in the apartment. It smells so delicious! It's warm! Sad thoughts leave me. Well, he'll whip me, so he'll whip me, nothing can be changed now.

 — I'm frying chicken! — says Sasha, he's pleased, he loves to spoil me.

 — And I put on new stockings!

 — Show me!

I lift the hem of my skirt, the lacy top of the stocking is visible.

 — And from behind?

I turn around, lift the hem higher so the black lace thong is visible.

 — Ah, what a bottom! Sasha slips his hands under my skirt, strokes my thighs, my bottom, uncovered by the thong. For some reason, he especially loves my bottom, not only whips it but also caresses it, sometimes he puts me on his lap and strokes, strokes, finds my tight little hole, teases it with his fingers inside... I freeze with pleasure, I completely surrender to such strange and sweet sensations...

We sit in the kitchen, on the corner sofa, he hugs me, strokes my head, tickles my neck...

 — Do you remember the first time?

 — I remember! Right here, on the table! — I answer. Both the first time making love was on the table, and this... well... he punished me the first time... here...

 — Yeah, for failing the test. I remember!

I'm ashamed. I bury my face in his hands, probably blushing.

 — And today with what? — I whisper.

 — Well, you can't find a good switch now! Probably have to use the belt!

Well, the belt... that's not as painful! My mood rapidly improves. I jump up.

 — Let's... let's... do it right now! Let's get it over with! Sashka laughs.

 — Look how happy you are! But with the belt, it's supposed to be more! One to two, forgot? So I'll give you all 30!

Oh, damn, I really forgot...

 — Sash... maybe like this? not 30...

 — You shouldn't be late, dear! Do you know how cold I got? Frozen stiff. Come on, come on, present your bottom.

 — Saaaash... forgive meeeee... Tears start to fall. 30 strokes is a lot. The belt doesn't hurt as much as the switch, but it takes longer. And sitting afterwards is very painful... And shameful.

 — Well, don't cry! Why cry in advance? Come on, lie on your stomach on the table and present your bottom. I'll be right there.

And he went to the next room for the belt. We have a special belt for this, for punishments. Not narrow, not wide, a flat braided one, Sasha bought it specifically for this. He returned quickly.

 — Why are you standing there, sniffling? Come on, come on! Quickly, bottom up. — He says sternly, knowing I won't lie down myself, I need to be forced, tenderness is out of place here.

As always, I get flustered, there's a cold feeling in my stomach, fear, shame! I approach the table on wobbly legs, look at Sasha.

 — Please... forgive...

 — I'll whip you — then forgive, — as always, says Sasha. Lie down. Pull up your skirt, pull down your panties.

I lie on my stomach on the edge of the table, with trembling hands I lift my skirt, then pull down my panties... hide my hands under my stomach...

The first stroke burns the skin, it hurts!

 — Will you be late again?

 — No!!!

 — Will you be attentive?

 — Yes!!!

Sasha strikes rhythmically, hard, it's a real spanking, it hurts me a lot, I want to run away or at least cover my bottom with my hands, but I know I must endure, only that way will I be free from the feeling of guilt...

Five... six...

 — Sasha... ! Sashenka! Don't... ! I beg... !

Sasha stops:

 — I've only just started!

And continues to whip.

 — Endure it, you little hooligan! When it comes to mischief... you're the first!…

And when it comes to answering for it... you're the last!…

Eleventh... twelfth... How many more are there!… Fifteen! Only half done! I'm sobbing uncontrollably... Twenty! He stopped.

 — Look how red it all is! — He strokes my bottom. I cry more quietly. — I feel sorry for you. Let's do the last five, and that's it.

I sniffle.

 — Okay, I whisper. I'm grateful both for the break and for the 5 strokes forgiven. It hurts, it hurts to get hit on the already whipped spot with the belt, but, remembering the leniency, I try to cry more quietly. Twenty-five!

 — Well, that's it! Sasha hugs me, helps me up from the table, I cry standing, not daring to sit, Sasha strokes my head, my back, kisses my wet face, wipes away my tears.

 — That's it, that's it, don't cry, you're a good girl, you're a brave girl!

I smile through the tears.

 — Are we even?

 — We're even!