Based on a drawing by Skekpen.
Thomas sighed and stretched as he arrived home from his shift at the gas station. True, these evening shifts paid better than the day shifts, but the number of crazies he had to deal with was also a lot higher. And today was Halloween, which hardly made things better. The 25-year-old wished he could have traded shifts with someone, so he could have gone to a Halloween party with his girlfriend instead, but none of his coworkers had been willing. Which was fair enough – if he'd been in their shoes, he wouldn't have traded either.
"Oh, hey, honey," Zoe said, smiling at him from the other end of the living room. She was sitting at the dining table going through a pile of sweets.
He could feel the stress of the workday draining as he watched her happy little face. Zoe was a petite, red-haired woman with a perky disposition, a trusting nature, and an almost terminal lack of common sense. "Hello, darling. Where did you get the sweets?"
"I went trick-or-treating," she said cheerily, grabbing another caramel from the pile.
He raised an eyebrow. "You're twenty-two. Aren't you a little old for that?"
"No one arrested me for it," she said with a shrug. "Want to see my costume?" When he nodded, she retrieved a hairband from the other side of the table. Two black cardboard pieces had been taped to the top, resembling rabbit ears. She placed it on her head, stood up, and looked eagerly at him. "What do you think?" she asked, twirling to give him a proper look.
Thomas stared. After a few seconds, he finally regained the ability to speak. "And where," he said in the calmest voice he could muster, "is the rest of it?"
Zoe was wearing a long-sleeved black shirt, long black socks, black shoes, and the black headband. The problem was that between the bottom of the shirt and the top of her socks, the only thing protecting her modesty was a small pair of black panties with a large, white cotton wad sewed onto the seat.
"What do you mean?" she said, furrowing her brow as she looked down at her attire. "This is it." She noticed the expression on his face. "What's wrong with it? Don't you like it?"
"For wearing at home? Wonderful! At a party? Maybe, if it's the right sort of party, and I'm there with you," he said, still trying to remain calm. "Out on the streets? Not a chance."
She glared at him. "People were happy to see me! I got a ton of sweets, you know," she said, nodding to the pile on the table.
"And these people who gave you sweets," he said, "were they mostly middle-aged men?"
She huffed, folding her arms as she tried to pout him into submission. "Yes," she admitted.
Sighing, he picked up one of the dining chairs and placed in the middle of the floor. As he sat down, he patted his lap. "Come here, Zoe."
Turning pale, Zoe took a few steps backward, both hands protectively clasping her bottom. "You're going to spank me!? For what?" she whined.
"Zoe," Thomas said patiently, "You were out on the streets in your underwear. You're lucky you weren't picked up by the police for indecent exposure. Now, come here," he said, patting his lap again.
She glared at him, but didn't dare disobey – she knew from experience that if he was forced to chase her, she’d regret it. "This is ridiculous," she grumbled as she inched closer to her scowling boyfriend. "I'm sure many women my age are wearing outfits like these."
"Then I hope those women's boyfriends also give them the spankings they deserve," he said, guiding her over his lap. With her head toward the floor and her bottom raised, she bit her lip, waiting for that first awful smack. He didn't leave her waiting long, and she yelped as the first of many slaps cracked down on her quivering cheeks.
"I cannot believe you," he scolded as he spanked. "You can't possibly believe that wearing a costume is a good enough reason to wander the streets in your underwear? What were you thinking?"
His hand moved from cheek to cheek, imparting a terrible sting in her poor bottom. Zoe hissed in pain, trying to resist the urge to reach her hand back and protect herself.
"Are you listening to me, Zoe?"
"Yes, sir! Of course!" she responded immediately. That was an easy question!
"Then what was I saying?"
Ah. This one was a bit trickier. Zoe pouted; she thought it was entirely unreasonable to expect her to squirm, yelp, try to escape, and listen to whatever it was he was going on about, all at the same time. "No more sexy clothes for me," she promised. "From now on, it's ankle-length skirts only!"
He sighed, delivering a set of particularly firm smacks to the lower parts of her bottom that made her howl and wriggle. "Don’t play dumb, Zoe. There's a difference between dressing provocatively and being half-naked, and you know it. Wearing a short skirt is great – going without one is not."
Suddenly, she felt him grab the waistband of her panties. She whimpered. "Please, can't I keep them on? They barely cover anything!"
He sighed. "I know, Zoe. That's why you're being spanked," he explained.
Despite her fervent pleas, he whisked her panties down to her knees, baring her red little rear. Wasting no time, he continued to smack her soundly. She was now blubbering incoherent pleas, promising anything if he'd just stop spanking her.
Finally, after what seemed an eternity over his lap, he stopped spanking her, instead gently rubbing her sore cheeks. Once she'd calmed down, he helped her to her feet., but to her disappointment, he didn't hug her and tell her she was forgiven – instead, he pointed to the corner.
She gave him her most pleading gaze, sniffling pitifully and biting her lip as she batted her eyelashes, but none of her tricks worked – his steely gaze never wavered, and he was still pointing at the corner. She quickly gave up, knowing that he wouldn't hesitate to start her spanking from square one if she didn't obey him.
As she stood in the corner, with her hands on her head and her bare, sore bottom on display, she could feel tears at the edges of her eyes. She didn't usually cry over Thomas' lap, unless there was an implement involved, but standing alone in the corner, without even having the comfort of his touch or his undivided attention, she almost always started sobbing.
She managed to hold the tears back, telling herself it wasn't so bad. She'd been spanked a lot harder than this before. Just one little endless eternity in the corner, and she could cuddle up to him on the sofa, watching some scary movie while peeking through her fingers. And besides, she still had that giant pile of –
"Oh, by the way? I'm confiscating these sweets. I’m not going to let you eat yourself sick again. You can have a few of them each day, but not more."
And in the corner, Zoe started sobbing.
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