A Collection of Short Stories for 2010
|by Y Lee Coyote|
Copyright on this story text belongs at all times to the original author only, whether stated explicitly in the text or not. The original date of posting to the MMSA was: 28 Jun 2010
Each summer the newgroup soc.sexuality.spanking has a Short Story Contest where entities are limited to just five hundred words. This story was inspired by a picture of public clock. You can see it at http://socsexualityspanking.org/ssc/2010/categories.html and at http://www.flickr.com/photos/mar00ned/191733375/
I envision the public clock in this picture as being in the entrance way to a great railroad terminal. Two minutes to midnight – the witching hour when strange and terrible things happen: gates to normal places are closed with their bolts slammed tight; hidden gates to strange places swing open silently. Which will it be here for it is also when my narrator's train is scheduled to depart and there are fearful consequences for missing it.
The following story is fiction about a man and tawse. If these subjects are offensive, uninteresting or if you are a minor (i.e., child) please leave now.
This work is copyright by the author and commercial use is prohibited without permission. Personal/private copies are permitted only if complete including the copyright notice.
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I was late. I was running for the train. It was vital that I catch it. If I missed it he would punish me after I got the next train and walked for an hour. Why I missed it would not matter. I was panting as I ran down the main concourse. I saw the track number on the top right of the train board. There was not any need to read anything but that one number. Damn, it was track 42 – the furthest one and with the twisted ramp. I said a silent prayer as I ran to the gate. Maybe I would be lucky and there would be a delay boarding. Maybe; just maybe, I would be lucky tonight.
The train was the midnight express. And the clock had showed 11:58. I had less than a minute!.
I almost tripped as I dodged about the other people in the terminal and the litter and the panhandlers. I skidded on the floor as I entered gate 42, recovered and ran down the ramp as the gate clanged shut. The train was still there. Would the doors be open? Please, I prayed.
I reached the platform. The door open indicator lights were off the first car. They were on further up the platform. Maybe, just maybe, the conductor would see me running and not push the button for another twenty seconds. I jumped on the train as the door slid closed. I stood there panting for several minutes as the train started.
We were out of the station as I walked up the aisle looking for Master. He was not in this car and I moved to the next. In the vestibule I saw the conductor smiling. "Go to the last car, boy." I must have looked puzzled for he barked: "QUICKLY, boy!"
I rushed through the next car. The last car was practically empty. But Master was there. He was not smiling. I sat in the seat he indicated. I was fearful for he had pointed to it with the tawse. I obeyed silently.
It was ten minutes before he spoke. "You were late, boy. You would have missed this train if I hadn't gotten the conductor to wait an extra minute." I knew I was in big trouble. I did not dare to speak. The conductor came into the car and punched our tickets.
Master then gave the command: "Drop 'em and hands on the door." I obeyed instantly. Seconds later, I was leaning on the door with my bare butt presented for Master's punishment. I did not have to wait long.
It was a very hard cut. I yelled. I yelled for each of the ten cuts I got before Master ordered me to stand and pull up my pants. And stand in the corner. Well, at least my pants were up for that.
"Thanks for holding the train for my most naughty boy." said Master.
"Anytime, Sir, for a show like that." replied the conductor sincerely.
© Copyright A.I.L. June 28, 2010
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