To Marjorie's Infinite Satisfaction

It's just art.

She wished to god that Hollywood would get tired of showing men kissing each other

The trans "community" whatever that means, just needed to go away.

Far worse than all them, the worst of all were the traitors. Those within the Ascendence who turned their back on it. Straight, white folks, especially men, those raised as she was, those who could only point to the tradition that was so vital to them all, who have turned their back on it all. They were traitors who aided and abetted the cultural marauders seeking to dismantle the country.

To Marjorie, all of these people were like the most spoiled rich kids. They were misguided, mean spirited children who had some infantile notion that they should run things.

And the worst part about it was that they were so self righteous and condescending about it. She'd had enough of their smirky, self satisfied distain for she and all those like her. They hated their country and wanted to empty the toilets on them all as they flew overhead while off to some bloated five star vacation.

She was so done with these people and thought they all needed to be put in their place. She longed for a reckoning.

And now she had one in her kitchen...whom she made dinner for! It was bad enough that he shared his offensive, condescending and inherently insulting views with her, but to do so forcefully and sanctimoniously in her own home was intolerable.

Of course he's one of them.

Just then it made perfect sense to her. All along she'd viewed him as a boy. He'd been posing as a man.

And who knows, maybe he even thinks he is a man

But she saw right through him.

As she gained clarity on just who he was and the preposterousness of their whole situation, he prattled on in the most offensive way. She took a deep breath and settled herself. She found her calm.

"Be quiet."

"What?" He was startled out of his liberal diatribe.

"I told you to be quiet. You will stop talking now." She was a little surprised at just how effectively calm she sounded and pleased by her tone and volume. There was no rage, though it was almost justified. She was in complete control of herself and though propelled by emotion, she used reason as her guide.

She prided herself on her possession of self discipline which he so obviously lacked. Marjorie reasoned his lack of self-awareness and self-discipline are just part of what made him a boy.

She took a deep breath and steadied herself, "You were invited in by me as a guest in my home. I have made you dinner. I made it and paid for it. I'd intended to spend my valuable time with you this evening. You in turn have behaved like an offensive child. For a moment, I even wondered if we might be more than friends. You've ruined our evening."

He felt absolutely taken aback by what she'd said and it only got worse.

"For the moment, we will put aside how misguided you are on how the world actually works. Instead let us focus on your manners. Like I said, you behave like a child. You have spoken over me. Is that respectful?"

He was too stunned to respond. Things had gotten so out of hand so quickly that he was just trying to catch up.

We were going to have a nice dinner and then...

He looked inward and knew in his heart that she was right.

What am I doing? Totally blowing it!

He hated himself.

Going deeper, he realized that she saw into the heart of who he was, or who he wasn't. His deepest secret was that he was awash in self doubt.

She called me a child.

He struggled to find what was so naturally available for every dude he knew. He groped in the dark for a sense of adult masculine identity and felt in his heart that he had no idea what it meant to be a man. Worst of all, in this moment, he felt completely emotionally exposed.

A bit louder and a bit sharper, "I asked you a question: is your behavior respectful?"

He went slack in spiritual defeat as he saw just how cross she was with him.

I've ruined everything.

She was pleased with what she saw.

A little bit of calm reason and watch the Ascendant fold. So weak.

Of course he had no idea that the relationship he fantasized about with Marjorie had zero chance and that she was already committed to axing him from her life.

As absolutely strange as her response was, his emotional response was just as disquieting. Clearly she was speaking to him like he was a misbehaved child. While he knew his behavior was terrible, he was confused as to her tone and energy. She sounded like a well provoked Aunty or Babysitter.

Why is she talking to me that way? It's wrong... She shouldn't...

Yet he'd just admitted to himself that he was exactly what she said he was:

NOT A MAN! God I hate myself!

Yet on the outside he was a man and it seemed wrong that she did not go along with the comforting pretense of his adult guise.

She was breaking all the rules that made him feel safe.

"I asked you a question, young man. You will answer me!" Marjorie was not quite sure where her disposition was coming from but she was anything but troubled by it. It felt natural to her. Actually, it felt like a relief to finally confront one of these political cretins and put them in their place.

For her entire adult life she'd mostly stoically endured the barbs and jeers of utterly snotty and completely condescending, liberal adult children, the traitors as she thought of them. And she viewed the majority of them as children who lacked the awareness and self discipline to simply stop talking and listen from time to time.

Though comforted to know there were many good compatriots who viewed the nation, its values and patriotism the way she did, it seemed everywhere she went, she endured to artificially loud commentary of some ill-informed Ascendent going on about how stupid, uneducated and unsophisticated Continuants were. They were children running their mouths and she'd had enough.

A reckoning!

"Re...relax, Marjorie. Don't get all hys...hysterical." He was disappointed in himself as he did not sound nearly as confident and adult as he hoped he would. He felt as though shoved and his response was to lose his footing, to stumble. The stuttering was the worst.

She was more shocked even than he was when she reached out and slapped his face. Though not as hard as she could have slapped him, it was hard and connected solidly with his cheek.

She was appalled by her reaction and for an instant, it was all over her face. Had he looked up, he'd have seen it and their evening might have taken a very different turn right then and there.

Yet as she grappled with her own conduct, she took in his reaction.

Tim's hand shot to his burning cheek while his eyes shot down and away. Worry and fear contorted his handsome face and he seemed to be almost cowering.

He knows he deserved it!

That was all it took. In an instant she transitioned from self doubt back to her normal completely confident self. When she saw him slink down and roll his shoulders forward, she knew she saw into him and this triggered something even more unexpected in the young woman.

You knew he'd do this.

From where this inner voice came from, she did not know.

Instantly, it was clear to Marjorie that he was a spiritually, emotionally insecure and generally weak boy.

What she did not quite want to look at directly was how much this intrigued her. She did not recognize at all that she was drawn almost forcefully drawn, toward an opportunity.

And then there was his most profound and initially at least, most unexpected reaction. She followed his eyes to the floor and was shocked when she did. Marjorie actually watched him grow hard. She saw movement in his crotch, beneath his pants. She saw it bulge as it grew and harden into place as it shot to full erection. It happened quickly. She'd never witnessed anything quite like it.

Yes you have. You even knew to look for it.

She was absolutely amazed and at once delighted and disgusted.

What kind of pervert...!

Yet in that moment, it communicated consent.

This is when no really means yes! I'd say that's a big YES to slapping!

She really appreciated the affirmation and it greatly emboldened her. Ironically, it also angered her.

How dare he! It's disgusting.

It was a good anger. Sharing her anger with him felt wonderful to her.

With an understanding of his emotional state, she recovered her own emotions and found her bearings.

As completely amazing as it was to consider, she knew she was right to slap him. She was in completely uncharted territory but his reaction steadied her and spoke of the rightness of her actions. He completely validated what she'd done.

With that validation came another, nearly preposterous realization; slapping him felt amazingly good! It was beyond invigorating and her nipples were instantly hard from the excitement of it all.

There was more. There was the promise of incredible pleasure. There were the dark shadows of thoughts swimming through the clouded murk on the periphery of her awareness. Like big sharks, they made her uncomfortable so she chose not to look very carefully. Instead, she focused on her patriotic duty.

With an aggressive but even tone, "How dare you be so disrespectful to me! How dare you be so disrespectful to me in my own home." Marjorie saw that he'd taken a couple steps back from her. "Come here this instant." she said smartly.

He obeyed and while doing so, felt powerless to do otherwise. He was in the wrong and he felt the heavy guilt of his words and actions. And with each step taken back toward her, he felt his fear grow in equal measure.

I'm naughty.

This realization overwhelmed him.

And he was obviously regressing. Only later would he feel the added shame of doing so in front of the woman he so desperately wanted to impress. Before her, he was becoming the child he was when he was an actual boy whenever he was in dutch with his mother.

He absolutely could not look her in the eye.

His fear, his obedience, his erection and his apparent emotional regression stoked something within her, a level of anger she did not know she harbored. Her anger leapt to the fore and fed like a predator on his weakness and fear.

Later she would reflect on how strange it was to be at once so in control of the situation while realizing a side of herself that she did not even know was there. And while the aggressor, she felt totally in control of herself.

"You have the witless nerve to have a temper tantrum in my home and then accuse me of being hysterical? Look at me, boy; do I look hysterical?"

Glancing up and then back to the floor, "No, Marjorie. I...I'm, uh...

Actually, though clearly pissed, she was remarkably calm. She was angry enough to slap him in the face (something he still could not get over,) but seemed almost relaxed. Later, upon reflection, he realized she was not at all relaxed, the opposite really. He misread her. It was her remarkably confident self possession in spite of her anger that threw off his bearing.

Slowly, "You are a rude and disrespectful, little loud mouth and someone needs to shut you up. You deserve a spanking."

"Come on, Marjorie, you can...can't do that!"

As though on cue, she slapped him again across the cheek, only harder this time. And it was even more satisfying than it was the first time as it could be savored because there was no negative self examination, guilt or doubt. The physical act was powerful and strangely and unexpectedly elegant and by itself intoxicating to her. She adored the sound and the clapping sensation on her hand. Yet his reaction made it so emotionally gratifying.

Whiny bitch! Shut you up!

Even more important:

He's scared of me! Yes, yes, yes, he's scared! Oh my god, yes!

Without time to examine it, or really wanting in the moment to know why, his fear of her was instantly recognized to be of paramount importance to her.

Because I need his fear. It's part of it. Like his little-boy hardon.

She was shocked to realize she wanted to keep slapping him. She adored his fear and wanted to play with it. For now, there was something else to consider.

Of course she had no intention of spanking him...until he told her she couldn't.

Marjorie was done backing away from Ascendants. If she wanted to remain on the high road, maybe it was time to redefine what the high road was in this context. She only mentioned a spanking to help him to understand how she viewed him.

Sometimes taking matters into her own hands was the high road, her father had taught her that. Taking control and setting things right was the high road. Putting an Ascendent brat in his place was the high road.

Marjorie had never wanted to spank anybody and the very notion was nothing short of absurd.

That's not true.

That is to say, she'd never thought to spank anybody and never wanted to spank anybody until just this moment.

Really, Marjorie? Is that so?

She ignored the voice as it was not welcome. Suddenly, spanking the boy was an urgent mission.

Yes, I am taking the high road!

He needed to be spanked and she needed to do it.

Oh it's urgent alright.

She felt born to be the righteous agent of justice. She told herself that her eagerness was simply a reaction to put things in order and to put her own house in order. Ironically, and most unexpectedly, she'd be disappointed with herself if she did not meet the moment.

She'd just slapped him a second time across the face and all he could do was hold his cheek and cower.

Perfect. Yes, be scared. Be scared of me.

She was quite angry and he was openly terrified of her or at least of the moment. It was beautiful to her, all of it. She was aware that something magical was happening.

Propelled by the primal instinct of the huntress, she wanted to bolt her front door. She wanted everything outside to remain outside. More importantly she wanted to cut off his means of escape. Things were happening.

Marjorie knew that she was in one of those rare pivotal moments in her life. She viewed his whole reaction as an invitation to spank him.

He needs this...and I think he knows it. If he doesn't, he will soon enough.

His penis continued to salute her. This was a profound signifier of consent. While it angered her mightily she also saw it as a silent begging, like a dog sitting up for a treat. It was beyond an invitation, the boy was begging for a spanking.

Definitely, here and now, no means yes! He's just like one of those girls!

Marjorie was not naive. She knew there were truck loads of terrible men who raped women. This was clear as day to her.

Yet she also knew there were times when the girl lied and other times when she sorta had it coming. She got him all ready and then said "No!" like just as he was inside of her. Like the girl might even have gotten more turned on telling him to stop when she knew what he needed so badly.

She did not think this of the girl in pain or the girl who was scared. It was far more likely it was a big city, Ascendant girl. She thought this about a girl on a power trip who picked the wrong man to mess with.

Sorry girl, that's when no means yes. Don't try that with a man.

It did not matter what Tim said at this point, his body told her all the truth she needed to justify what she was going to do. He was justifiably frightened

He most certainly should be.

But some part of him seemed to understand the rightness of it all. His arousal and his fear meant everything to her but she chose only to look at what it said about him and not what it mean to her.

Boy needs a spanking!

She had to steady her breathing. She wanted to go slow and really pay attention to every aspect of what they were working up to.

"I can't? Is that so?" She showed him her calm, simmering anger.

He tried to back away but she grabbed him roughly by the waistband of his jeans by way of securing her intention and sat down. She began to slowly undo his belt and button fly.

"Marjorie, please! Please don't. You can't...I mean...I mean...just please don't!"

She stopped short of pulling his pants down. "Don't what? Say it!"

"Please don't...please don't..."

"I won't ask again, say it!" she hissed.

He was struck by how she was at once so angry and so under control.

"Please don't...please don't...please don't sp...sp...spank me." The last part came out as a whisper.

What Marjorie heard was, "I know you can spank me. I know you can spank me because I'm just a little boy and there is nothing I can do to stop you."

She suppressed the shiver that ran up and down her spine trying not to let her excitement show. Her nipples were rock hard and punching through the front of her sweat dampened, cotton dress. Had he been present in the moment, had he not been disassociating, there'd be no missing her obvious sexual arousal.

There was no stopping her.

As he begged her not to punish him, she returned to him the most beautiful and terrifying smile he'd ever seen. He knew she was going to spank him and there was not one single thing he could do about it.

Cause there in't.

With slow deliberation, she went back to his fly.

It had been so long, she'd forgotten how much she enjoyed seeing a boy for the very first time. Not only did she want to savor the slow reveal, she wanted to savor his reaction to it. She wanted to savor his sense of helplessness and dread. She wanted to savor his sense of surrender. Deep down beneath that, she longed for his humiliation at her hand.

"There, there now, just look at you!" He was broken and she was elated. She dropped his jeans to his knees and draped him over her own.

Yes, yes, no fight at all. Good, gently over my knee. That'a boy. This is right. This is good. You know it as well as I do. You need this, little boy. You need a spanking. Yesssssss, a good spanking. Yes, you need a good, warm bottom. Little boy needs a hot-bottom!

Though never in her life could she have imagined herself in this position, poised on the precipice of an act that would forever change them both, she was not the least surprised to discover that he was still aroused.

Oh, girl, you have imagined!

She'd have been shocked had he not been hard.

It just shows how much he knows he needs this!

Marjorie appeared to ignore his arousal and simply pretended not to have seen it.

She was more than a little troubled by how much she liked it, so as the self disciplined young woman she prided herself on being, she pushed it from her thoughts. She also resolved to have no more time for that troubling inner voice that kept intruding.

Just then, Marjorie became very clear about why she was doing this. It was her civic duty and an act of patriotism and she knew what patriotism required of her.

I have an obligation. This is my solemn duty.

Marjorie believed one's actions should be righteous and justified. She felt almost overwhelming pride.

While her breasts were firm and her nipples as hard as they'd ever been, she gave it not a second thought. A sense of arousal had always been vaguely present when she felt her most patriotic.

He quietly begged her not to spank him as he went over her knee. It was then that she appreciated how docile and controllable he was. It just confirmed all her ideas about Ascendent men.

They are all just boys! Weaklings, "adult" boy weaklings, deserve what they get.

Here she paused and took a long, slow breath. She appreciated just how surreal and amazing the whole development was.

Look at him! Oh my god, he's bottom up over my knee!

And she was equally amazed by how right and natural it all felt to her.

Because it's not new.

She was incredibly excited by what she had created, but once again, self discipline allowed her to maintain her composure and her cool, stern bearing.

She reached for her small purse which was hanging on the back of her chair and from it, she removed a small, wooden hairbrush. With another deep breath, she put her left hand down on his lower back, gently pinning him to her knee, while with her right hand, she raised her hairbrush high over her head. While looking in the mirror, she took a mental snap shot. She looked pretty. She looked serious but also prim, proper and pretty. She admired herself in this new light.