Parking Spot

I'm sure you're all familiar with this type of situation. I was at the supermarket, and it was pretty occupied. I cruised slowly around looking for a spot and there weren't any. Finally I loitered near one of the exits and, driving slowly, following a woman to her car.

Now the woman had a pram and a pile of bags and things, and it was going to take a while for her to unload and get her stuff together, but that was OK. I didn't mind waiting. I just sat there, blinker going to indicate that I was taking that spot, while she slowly got her stuff stowed.

Finally she starts coming out. She turned towards me and blocked my access for at least two seconds, which was when this little sports car came screaming down the roadway and spun into my spot. It wasn't an accident. The woman had seen that I'd be blocked for a few moments while the other car departed and came rushing down to cut in.

Not only that but, when the woman got out of her little car, she turned, looked at me with a smirk, and gave me the finger. Pinching my parking spot was bad enough, but to be deliberately and gratuitously rude about it afterwards? An apologetic shrug and I would have marked the entire incident to desperation on her part, but the rudeness made it a deliberate insult.

And what could I do about it? I mean, what could I do about it, legally? Nothing, really. All I could do was sit and fume. Which I did for a few moments before slapping the car into gear to start my search again.

Fortune at times favours the put-upon. While I was sitting having my little sulk a man came charging through the rows of cars and hopped in one just a few cars up from where I'd originally intended to park and there was me - all positioned to take it. He pulled out and I pulled in.

Strolling towards the supermarket I cast a nasty glance at the car that had the brass effrontery to be sitting in the spot I'd waited for. There was something on the ground next to it. I strolled over for a closer look.

A very nice smart-phone in a leather case. In the side of the case there were several bank cards, credit and debit, I assumed. Also a driver's license, and I recognised the picture with no problems. I'd seen the owner only a few moments ago.

I considered the situation. Did I feel helpful? Not really. Did I have any plans that couldn't be put off? Again, not really. Did I feel like being an unmitigated bastard where a rude, insolent, thief of parking spots was concerned? I do believe I did.

I did my shopping. It didn't take me long. Then I went back to my car. The parking thief was still there. I wondered how long it would take her to find out what was missing. I hopped in my car and went around to the address on the driver's licence and waited.

(I was assuming that the address was correct. If it turned out it wasn't I'd just turn the phone and contents over to the cops and let them chase her down.)

It was correct. Her little car came racing down the street a short time later and swung into her drive. The woman bounced out of the car and practically bolted inside, probably praying that her phone and cards were safely at home.

I gave her time to find out they weren't and then strolled up to her door and rang the bell. She answered the door, not looking at all happy. Her name by the way is Sylvia. At least, that's the name on the cards.

"What do you want?" she snapped. "I'm not buying anything. Go away."

I gently waved my prize and there was quite a change in her demeanour. She almost broke the door off its hinges she opened it so fast.

"My phone," she gasped, snatching it out of my hand. Just naturally rude, I guess.

"My phone?" she shrieked, opening the case to find no phone, no cards, no license.

"Safe," I said. "I'll return the rest of your things in a minute. First there's a small matter I'd like to discuss with you."

I was trusting that she was home alone, and when she didn't call for assistance I took that as a positive sign.

"What are you talking about?" she demanded. "I don't even know you."

"True, but I have come to the conclusion that you're a bit of a bitch and need a salutary lesson. I've decided to give you one. I'm the driver who's parking spot you pinched, after I'd been waiting for that woman to move for several minutes. Now I'd have let that go with a few muttered words about selfish idiots, but you had to compound the insult by laughing at me and giving me the finger."

She blushed, but didn't look particularly sorry.

"I saw a spot and took it," she said. "I didn't know you'd been waiting."

Lying bitch. She'd known all right.

"And that explains the finger?"

"Um, yeah, sorry," she muttered. "Now give me my stuff."

"Let's not get ahead of ourselves. I may not look it, but right now I'm a very cross man and I feel that you've been a very naughty girl. I was seriously considering that you should have sex with me as a way of showing your remorse, but I decided that would be going a bit far."

"There's no way," Sylvia said.

"Yes, I thought that would be going a bit too far. I decided a simple spanking would suffice."

"You have got to be kidding," she said, looking shocked.

"No, I'm not. You are going to permit me to put you across your knee and paddle your backside, or I will take your phone and license and leave then at the police station. In regard to your credit cards I will of course take the bank's advice and cut them in half. It shouldn't take you long to get new ones."

"You can't do that," she said with a gasp.

"Oh, legally, I'm supposed to do that. Strictly speaking I shouldn't have gone to the trouble of bringing your things here. If you prefer," I said, jerking my thumb over my shoulder in the general direction of the city centre, "I'll just go and take these things to the cop shop now. You can even follow me down."

"My cards?"

"Unfortunate casualties to your rudeness."

She looked as though she was going to blow a fuse.

"But it'll take me days to get new ones. What do I do until they come?"

"Good question. I'm sure you'll manage. Well, I guess I'd better be moving on."

"Wait," she shrieked, when I turned to go.

"Um," she stood there, chewing her lip, weighing her options. On the one hand she'd have her phone and license but would have to replace her cards. On the other hand, she'd have the lot back straight away, but would have a sore bottom.

"Alright, damn you," she snapped. "I have to have my cards."

She turned and stalked into the house. I followed as she led me through to the kitchen.

"Now what?" she snapped.

I turn and sat on one of the kitchen chairs.

"You bend over my knee and I'll give you a nice spanking," I said, smiling. "We'll leave your shorts and panties on at the start."

Her eyes went wide. She probably hadn't even considered that I might take down her panties to spank her. She leaned across my lap, pert little bottom jutting up nicely, and I gave it a good hard spank.

I couldn't believe the reaction. She gave a wail, and started apologising. She was sorry for taking my parking spot. Honest she was. She was sorry for giving me the finger. She was sorry for arguing with me at the door. She was sorry for everything.

I didn't get all the apologies with the first spank. That just earned me a generic sorry. The more specific apologies came with each additional spank. After half a dozen spanks I paused, feeling somewhat bemused. I definitely hadn't expected that sort of reaction from her.

Sylvia took advantage of my temporary pause and bounced onto her feet. I would probably have let the whole thing go at that stage. I'd had my bit of fun. Sylvia had other ideas.

"Oh, god. Oh, god," she was gasping. "You want my pants down now, don't you? I'm doing it as fast as I can. Honest."

She was too. I almost expected the button on her shorts to go flying across the room she ripped them open so fast. Then they and her panties hit the deck and were kicked off, with Sylvia wailing and weeping and bending over my knee with more apologies.

Being offered a cute little (bare) bottom for spanking, what else could I do? I spanked. Did you know that if you cup your hand slightly when you spank you can deliver a real popping sound, while only delivering a smarting spank? It sound all noisy and furious but doesn't do any real damage, while the victim still feels the sting.

The wails and apologies started up again immediately. Apologies for not taking off her shorts before the spanking even commenced. Apologies for the need for the break to remove them. A repeat of all her previous apologies. A generic apology for being a bitch and a bad girl. An apology for putting me to the trouble of having to spank her.

I'm not a complete fool. I realised it wasn't me that was the cause of all these apologies. The woman was submissive and expected to have to apologise. She undoubtedly thought she deserved the spanking and would probably have got hostile if I tried to cut it short. So I did my best and beat her bottom, wanting to laugh, but not really daring.

Eventually I paused in the beating. She froze, waiting to see what was required. I simply said, "Top," and she was hastily stripping off her top and bra. Very nice breasts, I might add.

I gave her another half dozen spanks, quite firm ones, and then set her on her feet.

"All things considered, I accept your apologies," I said sternly. "Don't let that sort of thing happen again."

"Yes, sir. Sorry, sir. Are you going to take me now? How are you going to do it? Are you going to make me bend over the table while you just take me?"

"I don't think that there's any need for me to go that far," I said cautiously, and her face fell.

"There's not? But I was bad. I did bad things. I inconvenienced you and was rude to do. How will I know you've really accepted my apology unless you show that you have?"

Just what had I got myself into? I was now in a situation where I had to screw the woman to show that she was forgiven her terrible behaviour. Mind you, she was eminently screwable. A very nice figure.

I snapped my fingers and pointed at the table and Sylvia promptly turned and leaned over it, legs parted, bottom glowing red. The catch now was reading her right. If I screwed up the screwing I could be in real trouble.

She would want it hard and fast right from the start was my guess. She wanted to feel dominated and rough sex would help give that impression.

I moved up behind her and drove in hard and deep, taking myself all the way in with that first vigorous thrust. She was more than ready for me, giving a wail as I started in and then pushing strongly back to meet me.

I then proceed to give her what could almost be called another spanking, with my cock the weapon of spank. I paddled her pussy, my balls slapping home hard and fast, and I fervently hoped I wasn't bruising them I was taking her so hard.

Nor was the action all one sided. Sylvia was bouncing up and down, eager to meet my every move. She was gasping and panting and promising to be a better girl in future, and she was so happy that I was in a forgiving mood and she really would try to improve.

I kept up the action as vigorously as I could while Sylvia just slowly came to pieces under my relentless pounding. She stopped talking, settling down to a lot of squealing and exhortations to go faster, and I did my best to oblige.

When she climaxed it took me by surprise, and I had to do a few hurried strokes to catch up with her. Still, all's well that ends well, they say, and I certainly finished off with a bang.

I was all tidied up by the time Sylvia got herself together. I could see her running through the past events and then the driving force came to her.

"My phone and cards," she demanded, holding out her hand.

Demand indeed. I had her measure, now.

"I beg your pardon?" I said firmly, giving her a hard look.

"Sorry," she said quickly. "May I have my phone and card please?"

"Certainly," I said, withdrawing the required items from my pocket. "No problems."

She fell on them eagerly. I could almost hear the cry, "My babies," as she latched onto them.

"You may now see me out," I said.

"Now," I added, when she looked down at her undressed state.

She swallowed and went meekly with me to the door. While she was naked she was going to behave. Dressed was another matter, so I preferred she stay naked until I'd gone.

As I left I couldn't help wondering. If I'd given into my first angry impulse and smacked her bottom in the carpark, what would have happened?