Do I Have Your Attention?

The blower under the window sputters.

"Look at me." I flinch at the sound of his voice. Standing in front of him, I try not to fiddle with the hem of my skirt. My palms, moist, move nervously at my sides as my eyes dart around the room. Rocking slightly on my heels, I try to focus. "Stand still and look at me." He looks at me sternly and he half rises out of his chair.

A horn blows out in the parking lot.

I can't concentrate. I pin my hands against my sides, struggling not to move. My back is straight, I lift my chin slightly and look at him. "I...er...well" I begin to stammer as my mind scrambles for the correct answer. I shift from foot to foot, unable to control my growing apprehension.

A door opens and shuts down the hallway.

He watches me struggle for several minutes and then finally stands, his voice even. "I know you are an intelligent young woman so I expect a prompt response, why did it take you so long to answer me?" My throat goes dry and I look up to meet his gaze, my face hot, resisting the urge to back away. I shake my head slightly, my hands slip to the hem of my skirt nervously and I open my mouth to reply . "That was a rhetorical question, Young Lady. I will tell you why. I didnt have your complete attention."

The curtains whisper as they flutter against the window.

"Did I?" He looks at me for a moment longer before picking up my hairbrush. "No Sir" I whisper, my eyes drawn to the brush and I watch as his fingers trace the outline of the highlypolished wood handle. I lick my lips nervously as he studies it with a cool, academic *slowness* that makes me tremble, before looking at me once again. "Yes, well lets see if I manage to hold your attention now."

There is the sound of muffled voices outside the window.

"Go stand in the corner." A large lump forms in my throat and I feel my knees go weak. It occurs to me that although that brush has been in my possession for over a year, it has never touched a hair on my head. I swallow down a sudden urge to laugh hysterically as I make my way across the room.

My shoes make a scuffing sound on the carpet.
"You may be naughty and at times disrespectful, but you are *my* naughty and disrespectful girl. Do not forget that your naughty bottom is mine too and it will be thoroughly warmed and reddened often, My Naughty One"


In the corner, shaking fingers entwined in my hair, elbows pressed to the wall, my forehead against the cool plaster, I wait. I wait and I listen. I listen for a sound, any sound, to let me know where he is; what he is doing.

The whirring and sputtering of the blower under the window....the whisping of a curtain...the sound of...a car door?.....the swishing of fabric as he moves around the room.....

I hold my breath, listening. A chair is moved...or is it a table? The sound of something being poured in a cup......more fabric...is he sitting?

My head is spinning with random thoughts, worries, and then I hear his voice behind me. My body stiffens and I press my nose to the corner, panicked. "I expect that when you are with me, I will have your full attention. Is that clear?" Closing my eyes, I press my forehead against the plaster and whisper, "Yes Sir."

I feel him close, his voice in my ear. "Do you know what is going to happen next, Naughty One?" He asks.
My left elbow slips down absently and I blush furiously. The lump in my throat prevents me from speaking.
"Elbows against the wall." He says, his fingers brush my shoulder, touch my cheek, before reaching down to guide my elbow back against the wall. His hand slips down to the hem of my skirt and he pulls it up, folding it up carefully . I stop breathing. "I asked you a question, Young Lady."

"I am going to get spanked?" I manage to squeak out, my voice small and very far away. "That's right. And where exactly does my naughty girl get spanked?" His fingers tap my pantied clad bottom absently. "On her bare bottom," I barely whisper. My legs are shaking and I close my eyes tighter and lean closer toward the wall.

"Where?" He asks again, his voice suddenly in my other ear, louder, firmer. "She get s-spanked on her bare bottom," I stammer a little louder, my chest rising and falling with shallow breaths, my face growing hot, the heat travelling quickly down my neck. I swallow hard and reach a hand up to nrevously tuck my hair behind my ears.

"That's exactly right. She is going to get spanked on her bare bottom. And when I spank my naughty girl on her bare bottom, where would she be at the time?" He asks, his hand resting on the curve of my cheeks.
"She'd be over your knee," I whisper. "That's right. Over my knee." My stomach drops and I feel vaguely ill as he hooks his fingers in the waist band of my panties. "Do I have your attention now, Naughty One?" My ears ring and I nod numbly, the cool air sweeps across my bottom as he pulls my panties down to my knees.

My head clears and the background slowly drifts away. I focus intently on his voice...his touch....nothing else seems to matter. "And what do I use on a bare bottom of a naughty little girl who has trouble paying attention?" He asks as he takes me by the hand, leading me back to a chair in the middle of the room.

"You use.....my.......hairbrush," I answer softly, breathing a little faster than before, and yet a strange calm envelops me, wrapping me up tight. "Correct. I use
your hairbrush." He sits and I lower myself over his lap, with the help of a pair of strong, willing arms. My palms press flat against the carpet, my hair pooling on the floor as I stare at his shoe laces. He rests one hand on my back and caresses me slowly with my hairbrush, focusing me, bringing me to him. I no longer hear the background noise of my surroundings, of my own head as I wait.

There is a moment, when he raises the brush high, that time stands still.

My bottom waits, tense, anticipating, craving the breath stealing sting that is sure to come. My jaw clenches and I grip the rung of the chair, waiting. I am aware of nothing else. And then it comes SMACK! The first heavy slap of the flat of the wooden hairbrush takes my breath away. Soon firm, steady blows are landing heavily on my bottom.

"Now SMACK! that you are over my knee SMACK! maybe I will have your SMACK! full attention SMACK! Can you tell me why SMACK! you are being SMACK! spanked, Naughty One?

The hairbrush falls again and again, and I frantically try to move my bottom to escape the growing sting. I grit my teeth and squirm on his lap as the brush falls, and he strengthens his grip slightly. My body tenses and I force the words out between spanks.

"Because SMACK! I wasnt SMACK! paying attention SMACK! when SMACK! you SMACK! asked me something!"

My breath comes out in ragged gasps and he continues spanking harder, alternating between cheeks, covering my entire bottom with stinging smacks.

"Thats right SMACK! for SMACK! not SMACK! paying attention."

The assault on my bottom intensifies. Every inch of my bottom is met with hard, measured slaps from the hairbrush. Each one becoming more painful then the last, until soon the slaps begin to melt into each other. I grip the rungs of the chair and grit my teeth, trying to breathe through the sting, gasping.

"You SMACK! *will* SMACK! give me your complete SMACK! attention when I am SMACK! dealing with you, or I will escalate SMACK! your punishment, SMACK! got it?"

A slow, hot fire builds and builds as he moves to the tender spot where my thighs met my cheeks. The smacks come harder and faster, and my head fills with pain. I gasp and squirm, my hands grip the rungs of the chair and the smacks fall over and over again. I am shaking and gasping, the pain is too much...... I cant take anymore. I am gasping for breath and my bottom burns and then............. the brush is gone. I am panting, my chest heaving, the skin on my bottom, stretched taut over his lap, feels stiff and hot.

I lay there quietly for a few minutes, well spanked, his arm resting on my lower back, as he gingerly runs his fingers over my stinging bottom. And then I hear his voice, soft, without a hint of sarcasm......

"Do I have your attention now, Naughty One?"