The Misadventures of Samantha and Malcolm/Chapter 13 Romance

The penitatas system did not officially condemn penny parents engaging in erotic corporal punishment between each other in the privacy of their own homes, but that lifestyle was not allowed to bleed into either raising the children or their public life. In fact, the review boards on Paradiso often held penny parents to unreasonably high standards of public life. When the system was first set up there was a small percentage of people exploiting the system to practice dippoldism. The cops cracked down hard on them but the stereotype that penny parents are all heartless sadists persists (aggravated by unrealistic depictions in holos). But tonight they were free. After the resounding success of the first sleepover, it was only natural to schedule a second. With Samantha and Malcolm in good hands, Alison was free to think of Jet’s promise to her that morning. “You won’t sit for a week.” She was wet just thinking about it. She tossed the form fitting jumpsuit into the hamper and stepped up to the full length mirror. Damn I’m a great piece, she thought. She turned to look at her bottom. She imagined what he would use on her tonight. Would she have cane marks or strap stripes? On the top of her left bottom cheek was her brand, a tattoo of a jet fighter. A visible mark of her loyalty to her man. It was placed so that she could keep it covered with the right swimsuit. Jet had called to tell her that he would be late and to eat without her, but he would still be home with time to fulfill his promise. She slipped a lacey pair of red panties over her shapely bottom. Then she set to the agony of choice about what costume she would wear, if she would wear one at all… When the day had started she thought about going 100% slave and presenting herself in her leather harness, but now she felt like being a proper brat. That narrowed the options down to slutty school girl or punk girl with an unacceptable attitude. The school girl outfit lent itself more to power play than sex, so she decided on the punk girl. Once in costume, she took a wooden jewelry box out of a shelf in the closet and placed it on the bed. She knelt before it, produced one of two keys (the other belonging to Jet) and unlocked it. Inside lay a leather collar with a gold buckle and a silver bracelet. It was Jet’s idea. A mnemonic device to signify the transition from normal life to Dom/sub life. As long as she wore her collar she was the sub, and as long as he wore his bracelet he was the dom (thought they naturally still had a safeword: “red,” but Jet knew Alison’s limits so well she rarely needed it these days). And decades of this practice had conditioned her to have her naughtiest thoughts while wearing it. She slid the leather around her neck and buckled it into the single belt loop. A wave of lust rolled over her and she ached for Jet’s touch. “All right,” she said. “Let’s earn it…” Jet stepped out of his car into the garage. His keen detective’s eye spotted the minifridge door left ajar. He checked inside and found his last three birch beers missing. He opened the door to the house and his ears were invaded by the pounding beat of the song ‘Ferocrete Fists.’ He walked into the kitchen and found the jewelry box with his “Master’s Brace,” open and ready for him. Jet hung up his jacket, set his briefcase on the counter, and placed the brace on his right arm. He felt his confidence rise and marched into the living room. From his rear view of the sofa, he saw Alison’s feet dangling off the side in mismatched stockings (one with stripes, one with zig zags). The holo was blasting out the music video from Overchargers. He circled around to look her in the eye. She barely broke contact with the holo. Alison was wearing a skin tight, leapord print tank top and a black denim miniskirt that was making no effort to conceal the top of her lacey thong. She shifted one leg, giving jet a view of her lingerie clad pussy. On the table next to the sofa were three empty bottles of birch beer. “Mute,” ordered Jet. The holo fell silent. “I don’t recall you asking permission to drink those bottles,” he said. “Sue me,” she growled. Jet reached out and took hold of her by the ear and pinched hard. She squealed angrily in protest as he pulled her up off the sofa. “I have told you time and TIME again,” he pinched harder, “to ASK before you take anything out of my fridge.” He swatted her bottom once over her skirt. “OW!” Alison yelped. “Kiss my ass!” “Oh I am NOT going to kiss it!” said Jet he took her by the arm and forced her over the arm of the couch and started spanking her over her jean skirt. Her lacy panties peeked out under the edge “Young Lady,” Spank! “if you cannot behave” Spank! “I WILL put a hurting on your bottom.” Spank! “YEEOWSH,” yelped Alison. SPANK! “WHAT THE FUCK!” Spank! “IT WAS JUST SOME POP!” Spank! Spank! Spank! “Such language,” said Jet as he yanked her skirt up, “I’m going to have to pick up the pace.” He started spanking her with twice the rhythm. Spank! Spank! “OOOOOH!” Spank! SPANK! “Facist fucker!” exclaimed Alison. Spank! Spank! SPANK! SPANK! “GOD! UH!” SPANK! SPANK! I’ll get you more!” SPANK! SPANK! SPANK! SPANK! “This is about following simple instructions,” said Jet. He raised her off of the arm, sat down on the couch, and pulled her over his lap. “You will learn to ask permission,” said as he pulled her thong down to her knees. The smell of her arousal hit his nostrils and he started spanking with renewed force. SPANK! SPANK! Her bottom was growing redder and redder. SPANK! SPANK! HuuuuUUUUUH!” she growled. “I’m SORRY! OKAY” “I don’t believe you,” He said. He pulled her panties off entirely and pinned her arm to the small of her back. SPANK! SPANK SPANK! Alison kicked and wiggled about in vain against his iron grip, her cheeks dancing beneath his blows occasionally giving him a glimpse of her pussy and anus. Soon enough her bottom was a full blushing red. Jet stopped for a moment. Alison took a break from kicking. “Alison,” said Jet. “Did it ever occur to you that I wanted to share the last two bottles with you?” “What?” asked Alison, the defiance halfway gone from her voice. ”You mean…” He started spanking again. Alsion grabbed the pillow on the arm of the sofa and held it to her chest like a stuffed animal. SPANK! SPANK! SPANK! SPANK! SPANK! SPANK! She could feel the tears start to form in her eyes. She didn’t know if he really meant that he wanted to do something special with the last two or if he just made it up to make her feel guilty, but it was working. She felt even more like she had wronged him and even more like she needed to be punished. His heavy hand came down on her bottom over and over again. “I’m sorry,” she squeaked out. “I didn’t mean any harm.” Jet stopped spanking. “Go up to our room,” he ordered. “Undress completely, kneel in the corner and wait for me.” She lost track of time (it was about fifteen minutes) waiting for her master to arrive, but finally she heard his footsteps on the stairway. Jet opened the door to their room. Alison was naked but for her collar. She was sitting in the seiza position with her palms upon her thighs. She was staring at the ground with tears in her eyes. Jet threw his shirt into the hamper. He tilted up her head, forcing her into eye contact. “You have disobeyed,” he stated. “Yes, sir,” she said “I must punish you,” he said. “Yes, sir,” she said. “On the bed with you,” he ordered. She crawled on all fours over the sheets, arcing her back to give her master a view of her womanhood, glistening with desire. From under the bed Jet withdrew a long wooden chest and placed it on the dresser. Looking through her legs, she saw him extracted a wicked looking black leather paddle. Tapping it on her bottom three times, she let out a whine and wiggled her bottom a little. He brought it down with a merciless THWACK! “OOOOOH!” wailed Alison. “First a warm up,” he said. “Then your final punishemnt.” THWACK! “OOOOH!” she wailed again. THWACK! “What?” he asked THWACK! “Not even a ‘thank you?’” THWACK! “GEEEHAAAaaa! Thank You!” she screamed. THWACK! “Thank you to WHO?” asked Jet. THWACK! “THANK YOU-” THWACK! “-MASTER!” she screamed. THWACK! She tightened her grip on the sheets and her legs shook. “Thank you, master for WHAT?” he asked THWACK! “THANK YOU MASTER-” THWACK! “-FOOOOOR PUNISHING MY NAUGHTY-” THWACK! “LEEEEEEEETTLE BOTTOM!” THWACK! THWACK! THWACK! THWACK! Alison wailed long and hard. then slumped her head down on the mattress. She heard the sound of a stick tapping on wood. She opened her eyes to see her husband wielding that wicked school cane. “You remember how to count,” Jet said as he tapped the cane on her pink and bruised bottom. “Yes sir,” Alison cried. “You will receive twelve,” said Jet as he raised the cane. SWICK! “ONE SIR!” yelped Alison as a streak of fire ran across her bottom. SWICK! “TWO SIR!” SWICK! “THREE SIR!” SWICK! “FOUR...(gasp)...sir!” SWICK! “FIVE SIR!” SWICK! SIHIHIHIX SIIIiiiiir...” six red lines crossed Alison’s bottom. Jet had succeeded in placing them on the top half of Alison’s bottom with crossing any of them (thanks to years of practice). The final six would fall on the much more tender lower half. SWICK! “SEVEN SIR!” SWICK! “EIGHT SIR!” SWICK! N-hah-INE SIR!” SWICK! “TEN SIR!” SWICK! “ELEVEN SIR!” The eleventh caught her just at the top of the thighs. Jet reached high into the air and delivered a great harsh diagonal across the other lines. SWACK! “TWELVE SIR!” sobbed Alison. As she quietly cried, jet put the cane and paddle away and locked the chest. He walked over to his wife, sat down and she sat in his lap and wrapped her arms around his neck, pressing her tits against his muscled chest. She could feel his hardened manhood through his pants. “I’m sorry, master,” she promised. “I believe you,” said Jet as he wrapped his arms around her. “I will always punish you when you deserve it.” His hands started moving south. “And I will always reward you when you need it.” his left hand found her pussy and she gasped. Her clit was proud with passion and his fingers danced around it. She hugged him even closer and her wail of pleasure deafened his right ear. “OOOOOOH! MASTER FUCK ME! PLEASE FUCK ME!” She ground herself against his fingers and pushed him back on the bed. Within moments she had his pants off and was wantonly rubbing herself against his cock. Jet rolled her over onto her back and she opened her legs, offering her soaked pussy to him. He guided his cock into her pussy and her whole body convulsed with passion. She dug her nails into his back and bit his neck as he thrust in her over and over again. “GONNA CUUUM!” she shrieked. “CUM FOR ME, SLAVE!” Ordered Jet as he climaxed. She came as she felt his cock jerk and she was filled with his hot cum. Her whole body shook with joy, then she fell limp on the bed. Jet rested upon her for a moment. Then she took him by surprise and pushed him onto his back on the floor. “MORE!” She demanded as she mounted him. The morning sun cast long shadows in the kitchen as Alison poured herself a large glass of orange juice while she hummed to herself. She wore her pink terrycloth robe and bunny slippers. She was just starting to mix the eggs for a cheese omelet when Jet walked in. He was fully dressed and ready for work, he opened his case and went over the documents inside. “Someone’s chipper,” he commented without looking up from his papers. “Mm, yes master” she said. “I don’t suppose you could spare some time to rub some nano-lotion on me?” She raised her robe to show she wore nothing underneath. The first time she had applied nanolotion herself she forgot that the stuff messed up tattoos and her brand came out looking like a Rorschach test. “Oh, no,” said Jet. “I start that and I will never leave this house.” “I could live with that,” said Alison as she crossed the kitchen to wrap her arms around him. her eye caught a flash of one document in his case: SECURITY CLEARANCE GRANTED: JET MARTIN. She reached in and took out the document. “Jet, what’s this?” She asked. he took the document out of her hand and put it back in the case, then closed it. “Just a formality, nothing you need to worry about,” he said. A pang of fear shot through Alison “Jet,” she said, serious now, “do NOT ask a widow to not worry.” Was all that effort in bed last night because he might die on this assignment, she thought. “Alison,” Jet picked up on her trepidation. “I’m...” he wavered between keeping the state’s secrets and leaving his wife to worry. “All right, but you have to keep this a secret.” “Tell me,” she ordered. “I’m training with the personal chronostatic field projector,” he said. “Oh,” said Allison, going from cautious to confused. “What’s that?” “It’s a belt that makes me invisible with this quantum...you know it’s too bad Malcolm isn’t here because he could explain this better than me.” “Oh it’s some field authorization,” she hugged her husband. “I thought you were getting sent on some life or death assignment.” “Right...” said Jet.