It’s been a while since I wrote a short story. So I’m going to get back into the habit. I like to use writing prompts – pictures, a word or two – something to get those ideas going.
This week’s story is a little over 500 words. I’m going to try next week to reduce that to under 500. That’s the challenge. I love flash fiction challenges. If you want to join in, then post you’re own short story, just a few sentences.
Here’s the picture.
He kept the back of the van neat. Real tidy. His tools hung up or arranged in boxes. Everything where he wanted it to be. He swung the door shut and walked into the house.
“I’m back, honey,” he yelled.
“Hiya. I need a hammer,” she shouted from upstairs. “I’m hanging up a picture.”
He hesitated. Why not? It was just a hammer. “In the back of my van, honey.”
As he opened the fridge, rooting around for a beer, the front door banged shut.
The next morning, having risen early, he left for work. He opened up the back of the van and stood aghast, his jaw then locked into a grimace. “What the fuck?” He’d been robbed. The tool boxes had all been opened, their contents scattered. Although, checking around, nothing was missing except the hammer.
He growled, softly, under his breath.
Marching indoors, his boots stomped on the stairs. “Where’s the hammer, Mel?”
She shot out of the bathroom, her body wrapped in a towel, her hair wet and loose about her gorgeous face. Shit, why did she have to look so damn hot when he was cross with her?
A smile crept across her face, then vanished when he glared. “About here, somewhere,” she said, flustered.
“You know I like my van neat. You wrecked it.”
“Did I?” she spoke with mock surprise. Edging forward, puckering her lips, as if a kiss would make up for what she’d done.
“What did I tell you? If you mess with my van what happens?”
She swallowed. “I go over your lap and you spank me,” she whispered.
He loosened the belt buckle, and slowly drew the strap out of the loops.
“Oh, sweetie,” she began to say, but he hushed her with another firm stare.
“You’re like a storm, honey. You ride through everything. You need to slow up, take your time.”
“I know,” she murmured, “but, you know, I like to get things done.”
Reaching out, he snatched at the edge of the towel, pulling it away. Beneath, her skin glistened, still damp. “Over the end of the bed this time.”
She gasped, her eyes agog like she’d never been spanked before. “I’ll go tidy it now.”
“You will, but after I’ve strapped that fine ass of yours.” He snapped the belt into a loop and tapped it on the palm of his hand.
If Mel could move any slower, a snail would overtake her. Now, she wanted to dawdle, creep into position. No rush—he could risk being a little late today.
With her ass up, nose in the sheets, she wriggled her butt. Such a fantastic ass and soon it would be decorated with nice red lines.
She settled, her eyelids squeezed shut and she seemed to be holding her breath. With her ass cheeks clenched, it would hurt. But, then it was supposed too, up to a point. Her little sex pot would need a stir once he’d finished. It usually did after he spanked her.
Lifting the belt he cracked it over both her cheeks. She flinched, cried out, then moaned.
His pants dropped a fraction, slipping down his hips, the waistband halted by the bulge. Another five perhaps? Yeah, five should do it.