What's up his ass?

He wasn’t happy. He had been put on hold and that damned jingle in his ear was irritating the hell out of him. He began to snap at her.

“Viv, where have you put the notebook that was right here on my desk this morning?”

“I haven’t put it anywhere. I have not touched it.”

“Nonsense! It was right here, I tell you. Don’t you argue with me!”

She was in too good of a mood to let him get to her. It was water off a duck’s back this late afternoon.

“Sweetheart, I really don’t know where it is. I’ll look for it.”

“Don’t touch anything! How many times do I have to tell you not to touch anything in this room! You clean the rest of the house to your heart’s content, but don’t touch anything in here!”

“All right! I won’t touch anything.”

She turned her back and returned to filing the month’s bills. Under her breath:

“What’s up his ass?”

“What did you say?”

“Nothing, darling! I was just thinking out loud about this bill.”

“Don’t you dare lie to me, Vivienne! You said something else. What did you say?”

“I’m not sure what I said, darling. I can’t remember.”

She was smiling a little, in spite of herself, seeing the funny side of his bad mood. How could someone get so upset about such a little thing?

He was not amused. He looked at her suspiciously while she got busy looking angelic.

“Did you call me an asshole, Vivienne?”

“No, sweetheart, of course I didn’t call you an ‘asshole’. That would be a terrible thing to say. It would be rude, and I am never rude!”

“That’s another lie, young lady. You are on thin ice.”

“Yes Sir.”

She didn’t want this to end badly. It was time to pull her head in.

“You said something that sounded like ‘ass’. Now, what did you say?”

“Perhaps...I was referring to an asterisk. That is probably what it was.”

“Vivienne!”

“Darling, I really don’t remember.”

He opened his lowest desk drawer and produced from it a nasty looking wooden paddle.

“Well, let me help you.”

She started to panic.

“No...No...I can remember...”

“Well, just so that you’re sure, bend over this desk.”

He came around and put his hand around the back of her neck, immobilising her. Then, he bent her over the desk, pulled up her summer dress and pulled down her panties, so that it was now her ass in the line of fire. Whilst he held her down with that hand, he pulled back with the paddle in the other, and gave her right cheek a good, hard wack.

“Owwwww”

And, then he wacked her again, and again, until he had paddled her a dozen times, and she was owwwing her head off.

“Do you remember, now, Viv? Or, do you need another dozen?”

She was panting hard.

“No...No...I remember. I remember clearly now.”

“I thought you might. Out with it, then.”

“I said...I said... “What’s up his ass?”

“Ah! ‘What’s up his ass?’ Yes, that is indeed what you said. Such a charming expression for a young, well bred lady to use, is it not?”

“I am sorry, Harry, I am very sorry.”

“Are you? Not sorry enough, I suspect. But, we can fix that.”

“Harry, I am really very sorry.”

“You’re a little too cheeky, for my liking, my dear.”

He was rubbing her bottom gently as he spoke.

“...and I don’t think I can let such a lovely red, warm ass go to waste, either.”

He was feeling in between her legs, now.

“...and...ohhh...it is rather wet down there, isn’t it?”

She was purring like a kitten now.

“Perhaps, the right thing to do, girl, is to put something up your ass. Perhaps, that would be the best way to remind you in the future, that you should watch your language. I think so.”

She wasn’t really concentrating on his words any more. She was lost in pleasurable thoughts and sensations. But, she did hear him say,

“Push out, girl.”

She could feel his cock up against her hole, and with little difficulty he entered her.

She felt herself drop into her submissive space; that place where she became inert and impassive; where she was a nothing, a toy, and she was his to do with as he pleased. She remained still and quiet as he pushed back and forth inside of her, with his deep grunts ultimately acknowledging his pleasurable coming.

He pulled out of her and went to clean up. He brought tissues and wiped her; dressed her and had her stand to face him.

She was not cheeky anymore; rather, subdued, contained, at peace; looking down at his shoes.

“And, we won’t have any more of that cheeky, rude language, will we, Vivienne?”

“No Sir.”

“All right. Off you go and make us a pot of tea, please. A little refreshment is in order.”

“Yes Sir.”

She skedaddled out of the room. Seemingly out of range of his earshot, smiling, she mumbled,

“What’s up his ass?”

“Vivienne!”