Living Arrangements Ch. 02

Story Info
Watching the Clock - Amy is late for her first day.
4k words
4.46
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2

Part 2 of the 3 part series

Updated 09/22/2022
Created 10/11/2012
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Chapter 2: Watching the Clock

Disclaimer: These are consenting adults, even if it doesn't seem like it at every moment. I believe in the importance of safe sex, but might skip it for erotica between fictional characters.

Amy stretched lazily in the sunbeam just now streaming in her bedroom window. She was nude and her blanket had slipped off the bed, but she just didn't care. She could still taste the saltiness of Patrick on her lips, and remembered the burning inside he had left her with the previous night. After she had swallowed the entire big load he had poured into her mouth, he had held her on his lap and his hands had wandered while he had nibbled on her ear and whispered the nicest things. She hadn't been able to stay long; she was still living at home with a midnight curfew. But that would all be changing soon. She smiled to herself, a little smugly.

He had given her a long, lingering goodnight kiss and told her that he expected her promptly at eleven the next morning to begin paying her security deposit. He had smiled in anticipation, anticipation that lit an even bigger fire in her heart. And lower. She stretched again, now with an eager wiggle, and glanced over at the clock, which was just clicking over to ten-forty. Ten-forty?! That would give her just twenty minutes to get out of bed, get ready, and make the fifteen minute drive over to Patrick's. She jumped out of bed, tossed on a robe and ran to the bathroom. She hadn't set her alarm clock, but she never slept this late! What had come over her? She brushed her teeth rapidly and ran a brush a few times through the tangles of her long red gold hair before deciding it was mostly hopeless. Running back into her bedroom, she pulled on a halter top that pushed the girls up and together, and wiggled into red thong underwear and a pair of super short cut off jeans. Maybe he wouldn't notice the hair if he had other attractions to stare at.

She hurried down her steps and out the door, yelling to her mother that she was going out and not to worry about her for dinner. She ran to her car and hopped in. She paused just long enough to apply a quick coat of bright red lip gloss before racing down the street. Pulling onto the Baltimore Beltway, she saw brake lights stretching out ahead and slammed on the brakes. Waiting for the random traffic jam to clear, she looked down at the clock and sighed. It read eleven-twelve.

Patrick didn't feel the slightest twinge of conscience at taking a personal day. It seemed every Friday at least a few of his coworkers had better things to do. This Friday, it was his turn. He couldn't think of too many better reasons to play hooky than the sweet young thing that would soon be on her way to spend the day scrambling his brains. He thought about the lease agreement they had signed the night before. Was she for real? It seemed too good to be true. Then his mind turned to the subject of asses and whippings. He had put that clause into the agreement almost as a joke. He had fully expected her to walk out, maybe after decking him. But not only had she agreed to it, she had all but insisted that he follow through. Now he had to beat her butt at least twice before she ever moved in. It seemed pretty clear that if he wanted this girl in his life, he'd better learn to be a disciplinarian. He sighed and then grinned. He could think of ideas that sounded like a lot less fun.

Over a casual breakfast, he thought of all the things he could and would do to her, and found himself growing more and more excited and aroused. Why had he said eleven? Ten would have worked, or even nine. He smiled to himself. This girl really had him going! He looked down at himself. He was wearing some tight jeans and a Ravens jersey, and the constriction around his crotch was really beginning to get annoying. It didn't matter what he wore, he hardly needed to impress Amy any more. Apparently he already had. He reluctantly sat down and waited impatiently for her to arrive.

As the clock passed eleven and the minutes kept ticking by, first he was angry, then worried. He had said promptly at eleven and she had left him with every belief that she was looking forward to this as much as he was. Maybe she had gotten cold feet and changed her mind. If she was going to stand him up, that would be the wreck of a perfect day. Maybe she had crashed her car, or gotten into a shouting much with her Dad. Maybe... It didn't matter; there was no way to know. He was watching the street through his front window when Amy's Dodge Neon pulled up. She literally ran up the steps to the apartment and he breathed a sigh of relief and then grinned and rubbed his hands together. This was going to be fun!

Amy finally pulled up to Patrick's apartment building, jumped out of the car, and ran up the steps. She took a moment to calm down and catch her breath before knocking tentatively on his door. It opened immediately, and Patrick was there looking down at her with a smile. He didn't say a word, just put his big, strong hands on either side of her waist and pulled her in for a deep, sloppy kiss. She noticed in the part of her mind that could still think that he had taken a step back and kicked the door shut. He set her back on her feet and frowned. "You are late." He glanced at the clock. "Twenty-eight minutes late."

Patrick looked down at her sternly, but inside he was grinning. She was a vision of loveliness. Her hair was long and a bit tangled, like some kind of wild animal. She was wearing come-fuck-me red lipstick and some short shorts that left nothing to the imagination. Best of all, she was still a little out of breath from her sprint and the kiss, so her proud bosom was heaving in a halter that practically presented her tits as a gift. She stammered out. "I know. I'm sorry. I, um, got stuck in traffic." Patrick raised an eyebrow, at the same time reaching out to casually unbutton and unzip her shorts. "What time did you leave the house?" She blushed, bit her lower lip slightly, and looked down. "Um, I think it was, uh, five to eleven." He laughed slightly and she blushed deeper. "Is there a reason you didn't call me to let me know you would be late?" She shook her head, ashamed. "No, I'm sorry, I just..." Whatever she intended to say trailed off as Patrick hooked his thumbs into the band of both her jeans and thong and pulled them down around her knees. Grabbing her arm he turned her, pushed her down, and bent her over the arm of his love seat in one smooth motion.

Patrick looked down at Amy's bottom cheeks bared, turned up, and presented to him. Her behind was a creamy white, with not a hint of a tan. Her moons practically glowed in the late morning sunlight, with just enough baby fat to give them a nice round curve over lean, muscular thighs. He suddenly had the strong urge to drop his pants, ram her pink rosebud, and savage her virgin ass. But he restrained himself. Her first time should be at least a little gentle, and that was definitely not what he had bent her over for. After all, he did have all day to play with her. He looked at his right hand and consciously flattened his palm and fingers so it would sting more when he slapped her. "You are not nearly as sorry as you are about to be," he promised her. Then he pulled back to give himself plenty of room to swing and landed a very solid smack on her left cheek, leaving his hand resting there afterwards. She squealed in sudden pain and squirmed a little under his hand. He lifted his arm again and looked down at the red hand print he had left on her, marking her. Well, that did seem to make an impression at least. He wondered how much he should spank her. Well, she was twenty-eight minutes late. That seemed like as good a number as any. He pulled back and swung again, leaving a matching hand print on her right cheek and drawing another squeal. He felt a sudden stiffening of his cock painfully against the fabric of his jeans. He wondered: If one smack gets a yelp, what will three in a row right on top of each other get? He abruptly decided to find out.

Bent over with her face in the leather of the love seat, Amy felt deeply ashamed. She was very aware of her ass up in the air. She knew she deserved every bit of the spanking she was going to get. How could she be so stupid as to be almost half an hour late to meet a man she had invited to whip her just the night before? He probably thought she was the worst kind of inconsiderate airhead. I hope he still wants me, she prayed to herself. She tried to lift her hips to give him the best possible angle. What was he waiting for? Abruptly she felt the impact of his hand on her left cheek. She had been ready, waiting for it, but she still yelped and moved away from the first smack. Damn, he was strong! And if he was holding anything back she didn't want to ever make him really mad. He waited a while before delivering the second, long enough for her to regain her composure and her position. Then it came down hard on her other cheek. She was a little more prepared this time, but cried out anyway. Then he waited another long pause. His hand was almost as fierce as her Dad's paddle. Oh this was going to be bad. A little voice inside her answered: oh no, this is going to be very good.

Her reflections ended when Patrick's hand came down even harder again on her left cheek, right in the sit spot above her thigh. Before she was even done squealing, he had hit her again in the same place, just as hard. And then he smacked again, a third time. He didn't stop there, though. He then delivered the same triple of smacks on the other side: smack-smack-smack. She could feel her bottom squirming, trying to get away from the burning sting. She could feel tears running down her cheeks. "Please. Please stop?" She whimpered. "It hurts."

Patrick looked down at Amy crying and squirming. "I'm glad it hurts" he answered her firmly. "We are just getting started." He pressed his left hand to the small of her back to hold her in place. Her dangling legs could kick all they wanted, but she'd have to really try hard to move out of position now. And if she tried to shield her backside with her hands, he'd catch them. "And if you ever keep me waiting again for more than two minutes for no good reason and with no explanation, you will get worse." Then he started in again, harder and faster than before. She had twenty left to go, and he counted them in his head. He settled into a nice rhythm: left, right, left, right. She squirmed under the assault, but she didn't really try to get away. The tears ran down her face and she began sobbing a little.

Amy's bottom felt like one big fire as he settled into a spanking rhythm. It was too fast for her to prepare herself for, and too hard to ignore. She knew she was squirming and blubbering incoherently as he put his bulging muscles to good use. She just couldn't get hold of herself. Suddenly he stopped. She was crying into the couch uncontrollably. Maybe this spanking was over. If this was his idea of a spanking, what would his idea of a whipping be like? She shuddered, still crying. "I'm sorry. Please, please, is that enough?" She heard Patrick's voice above and behind her, still cold and angry. "That was twenty-two. You still have six more whacks to go. One for each minute you were late. These will be the hardest." She gasped and then she waited. He let her wait, building the anticipation. Then, he smacked her right cheek with what felt like easily double the force he had before. Amy couldn't help it; she screamed. The scream didn't even buy her a moment: he hit that spot again immediately, twice more, just as hard. Then moved to her left cheek and delivered exactly the same treatment.

Patrick looked down at Amy, wondering if he had done that right. She was crying hard into the sofa, sobbing to herself. Her bottom was entirely a bright red, and the areas he had spanked hardest had shaded over into a dark red. Was that too much? He wasn't entirely sure. Still looking down at her, he wondered what he should do next. She seemed to have gotten control of herself, and she was trying to talk. "Th- thankyou Sir." She broke off and began to cry again for a moment. "Thank you for giving me the spanking I deserved. Please forgive me?" Her last words were saccharine cute, and he thought he detected just a little bit of sass. He smiled to himself, thinking maybe he hadn't spanked her quite enough. He shrugged, invisibly to her. "You are welcome, Amy. Now, stand UP. And don't even thinking about rubbing the sting out of that butt." He made his voice a lash as he commanded her to her feet.

Amy rose unsteadily to her feet and looked up at him, uncertainly. She knew her eyes were puffy from crying and she felt very small and vulnerable. He sounded so angry. But he didn't look furious. In fact he was almost smiling as he looked into her eyes. She noticed again that his were that impossible green that seemed to pierce her soul. She could feel her well spanked bottom hot and throbbing, and now she noticed an answering heat and wetness between her legs. The intensity of the moment passed as he crouched down and picked her up from the backs of her knees, flinging her over his right shoulder like a sack of potatoes. He walked across his living room, slapping her sore ass with his left hand. The smacks were light and stinging, but it was enough to get her crying again. He set her on her feet and spun her around to face the only bare corner in the room. Then he spoke.

"Stand up straight and put your hands on the back of your head" he ordered. Amy obeyed immediately. His voice softened abruptly. "When I was a little boy, I spent a lot of time in the corner when I had been naughty. This is going to be your corner. You kept me waiting for twenty-eight minutes. So I am going to keep you waiting and thinking for twenty-eight minutes. Then I am going to hear your apology, and it had better be a fantastic one or we'll start all over again." He suddenly slapped her bottom lightly but smartly four times, left right left right. "Understood?"

"Yes Sir" Amy replied meekly as she settled into the corner. Her mind was only focused on one thing, though. He had said this was her corner. This was going to be her home. She suddenly felt flushed and giddy. This was really happening. Her bottom was still hot, stinging, and throbbing and she thought with a shudder that she probably had a real whipping coming. One she had asked for. But now it wasn't just her ass that was warm. She felt a flush rising on her face, and she knew that both sets of cheeks were rosy now. She knew that her pussy was hot and dripping and she felt it clench involuntarily around the cock that wasn't there.

With some effort, Amy forced herself to think about an apology. She should have set her alarm clock. She should have called him. She was silly and this was completely her fault. And the lame excuses probably didn't help. Maybe it wasn't a really big deal though. Suddenly Amy felt absurdly grateful for her burning backside. Patrick would discipline her. Patrick would forgive her. He wouldn't be afraid to punish, and he would let her know what was important. She sighed and wondered how long she had been standing there. It had probably been only two minutes. Maybe it hadn't even been that long. The sting hadn't left yet. She wanted him so badly. She wanted him to forgive her and smile at her even more badly. The corner was very white and bright. She imagined him staring at her swollen butt and hoped he was enjoying the sight.

Lounging on the couch, Patrick was certainly admiring Amy. Her ass -- no, that's MY ass, he corrected himself -- was fading to a uniform bright red. It made a nice contrast to her creamy and shapely thighs. His eyes dropped to the dimpled backs of her knees and from there to the shorts and panties now around her ankles. He undid his jeans and freed his erect penis. The instant he did, he saw he had a mammoth erection. He glanced over at the time and saw that less than ten minutes had passed. He laughed to himself. This was supposed to be a punishment for Amy, but it was nearly as much a punishment for him. Well, he would wait the twenty-eight minutes, but after that she was going to start paying her security deposit immediately.

Amy felt truly punished by the time she felt Patrick's tap on her shoulder and his spoken "turn around." Her bottom was quite sore, she ached with desire, and her thoughts had long since started running in circles. Most of those thoughts centered on Patrick. Turning, she gasped in surprise. His manhood was now free from his jeans and he had the biggest hard-on she had ever imagined. He was certainly ten inches long at least, but his thickness was even more impressive. She wondered suddenly how he had ever fit inside her. He had taken his shirt off as well, and her gaze slipped to the downy black hair on his bare chest. He chuckled to himself and lifted her chin up to him with one knuckle.

"If you can stop drooling, I think you owe me an apology?" Amy blushed an even brighter shade at that and stammered out a "Yes. Yes Sir." She suddenly and gracefully dropped to her knees.

"Please forgive me. I am very sorry that I was thoughtless and rude and stupid. I should never have kept you waiting for me. I should have set my alarm clock. I should have called you when I knew I was running late instead of making you worry. I am sorry that I started out paying my security deposit this way. I hope you don't think I am a terrible fool and I hope you still want me to live with you. I am really, really sorry. Please forgive me?" She looked up at him from her knees with practiced puppy dog eyes.

Looking down at her , Patrick felt his prick throb with a new wave of lust. "I forgive you, darling. And I certainly want you. Kick off those shorts and panties and keep 'em off. You won't need them today." She moaned and breathed: "Oh thank you."

Amy gasped and moaned as Patrick reached down into her halter and pinched her nipples hard, pulling her a little painfully to her feet. Then he grabbed the backs of her thighs and lifted her up, up, up. Her head fell back into the corner as she felt the tip of his cock pressing against her pussy lips. She wrapped her legs around him and pressed her feet to his buttocks as he lowered her to slide down the full length of his shaft. She screamed out "Oh Patrick!" as she felt herself divinely split by his hugeness. Her clit pressed roughly against the hairy base of him, making her cry out again.

Patrick almost came right when she screamed his name. She was so impossibly tight and hot and wet and eager and willing and... He put one hand on her back and the other squeezed one of her punished butt cheeks. He knew he wasn't going to last long, which was a shame. He backed up and thrust hard. Amy cried out with a little "oh!" He pulled back and banged her hard again and again and again. Her little crescendo of gasps was like music to his ears. Then a thought struck him and he grinned wickedly. He stopped the action, holding her impaled. He raised his hand from her buttock, gripping the hair at the back of her head and forcing her in for a kiss. Then he raised her head to look at him.

Amy gazed at him hungrily, thinking how good this was. He was pulling her hair and his impossibly strong arm was holding her up by the thighs. He had been kissing her and now he was talking. "Amy, you have just begun to pay your security deposit." He paused. "You haven't worked nearly hard enough to deserve an orgasm yet. I will let you know when you can have one." Amy moaned in protest and very nearly had an orgasm when he spoke. "Oh God please? Oh Patrick please please let me?" He laughed and rocked her up and down on his hips casually.

"Not now, you hot little tart. After lunch, you have a whipping coming, so that you'll know how it feels. Then I believe I am going to take your little virgin ass. If you are very good, maybe you can have an orgasm after all that. Now I'm going to pound your cunt and you are going to scream my name." Amy moaned and breathed softly "Yes Sir." She hoped that she was capable of obeying him. His words made her feel even hotter and sluttier. He had an iron grip on her hair and her thighs, so she relaxed into him. As he started pounding her, she concentrated on squeezing tight around his prick and screaming out "Patrick! Patrick!" in time to his thrusts.

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