Some more fiction.

El Cuñado

Shortly after our wedding, my husband, Jorge, and myself took some time off of work to go spend time with his family in Mexico. The first two weeks were probably the worst two weeks of my life. I was a spoiled white girl. I hated the heat, the dirt, the food, the kids, everything!!

We spent a majority of that time fighting, much to the surprise of his family. The would all look away in embarrassment as we fought. Sometimes, after a particularly nasty remark, I would catch his older brother glaring at me. I would angrily glare right back!

On our third Saturday in Mexico, there were holding a birthday party for one of Jorge's nephews. The ladies spent all morning and even part of the afternoon chopping, slicing, and dicing the food in preparation for the party. Jorge urged me a couple of times to help out, but I ignored him. I grabbed a magazine and stretched out on the hammock. If I was going to have to endure the heat, I might as well get tan doing it!

Jorge's sister-in-law, Karina, walked over to me as they were finishing up with the food. "It would be nice if you would help wash the dishes."

I rolled my eyes at her. "It would be nice if you left me alone."

Her eyes widened in surprise. "What is your problem?!" She exclaimed. "We have been nothing but nice to you. Why can't you help out a little?"

"You wouldn't need so much help if you didn't have so many damned kids." I replied, as rudely as possible.

Without another word, she grabbed the side of the hammock, and with one swift move she flipped me right over on the floor!

"You bitch!" I yelled, scrambling to get up off the ground.

She grinned, and turned to walk away, but stopped dead in her tracks. Her husband, Jorge's oldest brother, had apparently been watching our little scene unfold, and he had come to put a stop to it.

He grabbed her firmly by her upper arm, and whispered something in her ear. She nodded, and with her head hung low, she scurried off.

He now stood in front of me. I brushed the dust off my legs and shorts, and straightened up. If I had to find words to describe Francisco, they would have to be tall, dark, and handsome. He was easily over 6 feet tall. His already dark skin was tanned from a lifetime of working outdoors. Jorge spoke highly of his brother, but from what little I had seen he was a man of very few words.

We stared each other in the eyes. I defiantly refused to turn away, daring him to say something to me. After a few seconds had passed, he grabbed me the same way he had grabbed his wife, and he proceeded to drag me towards his house!! I protested and tried to pull away, but it was no use. Guests were starting to arrive, and we were attracting attention. I could feel myself blushing!

Jorge noticed us as we walked past, and he met us just as we were walking inside of Francisco's house. Francisco shoved me in the direction of his couch, and he took Jorge into the kitchen. I sat down nervously, and glanced over at Karina who was seated across the room in an armchair. She was silent, but tears were streaming down her cheeks. She met my gaze and shot me a dirty look.

Jorge and Francisco game back into the room. Jorge sat down next to me, and Francisco stood in front of his wife. She got up, and leaned herself over the side of the armchair. Wide eyed, I looked over at Jorge, and he nodded. "Francisco thinks you should see how our family deals with an unruly wife."

My stomach turned to ice as I watched Francisco lift the skirt his wife was wearing up and yank her panties down to her knees. She whimpered a little, and covered her face with her arm. Francisco took a step back, and removed his belt. The sound it made as he pulled it through the belt loops made the hair on the back of my neck stand up. He doubled it over, grasping the buckle in his hand, and WHACK! The first stroke made me cringe, and Karina gasped.

WHACK! WHACK! WHACK! WHACK! WHACK! I had never witnessed such a thing in my entire life. I felt sorry for Karina! As he continued the punishment, she began to kick her legs a little. He applied one hard, swift stroke to her lower thighs as a warning, and I could see her struggle to stay in place.

WHACK! WHACK! WHACK! WHACK! WHACK! I had counted 40 strokes by the time he was done. He rubbed her lower back, and leaned down to whisper something to her. Karina nodded, and tried to compose herself. She turned her back as she pulled up her panties and adjusted her skirt, and she also wiped at her eyes. Francisco handed her a tissue, and she blew her nose before turning back around.

She walked over in front of us, and lowered her head. "I'm sorry, Kristina, for being so rude to you. And I'm sorry, Jorge, for being so disrespectful to you and your wife." Karina looked over at her husband, and he nodded. Rubbing her backside, she walked into their bedroom and shut the door behind them.

Francisco, the belt still doubled over in his hand, held it out towards Jorge. I watched, shocked, as Jorge got up from the couch and took the belt from him! Francisco didn't say another word. He joined his wife in the bedroom, leaving us alone.

"Y-you're kidding, right?" I asked, my voice shaking a bit. "You can't be serious."

"I love you." Jorge told me. "I love you like I have never loved anyone before. But its time to learn take some responsibility for your actions! You've acted like a spoiled brat for the last few weeks! You're embarrassed me and yourself countless times with your rude comments and dirty looks!" He pointed to the armchair. "You can take your punishment or you can go get on a plane and go home alone. I can't put up with your attitude anymore."

I rose from the couch, and considered both options. I loved Jorge so much that the idea of leaving him brought tears to my eyes. But the idea of being punished like a naughty child...

I sighed, and without another thought I walked over to the armchair and draped myself over the side.

"Kristina, pull your shorts down."

I started to protest, but stopped myself after look on my husband's face. I stood back up, unbuttoned my shorts, and let them slide down to my ankles. I leaned back over the side of the chair.

I felt Jorge tug down my panties, and held my breath as I waited for the first stroke.

I could actually hear the belt as it sliced through the air and made contact with my ass. WHACK! I screamed out, and jumped up. "No, Jorge, please no!!"

He shook his head. "Kristina, back over the side of the chair!" Jorge insisted.

Reluctantly, I once again leaned over the side of the chair. WHACK! WHACK! WHACK! WHACK! After the first five strokes, my butt was already on fire!! I couldn't believe something so simple could hurt so much!! WHACK! WHACK! WHACK! WHACK! WHACK! After the tenth stroke, I couldn't hold back the sobs any longer. Tears began to fall, and I began stammering out apologizes. Jorge ignored me, and continued my punishment. Ten more strokes later, I was bouncing around as much as I could, trying to avoid the belt. It was no use. The tears were flowing freely now, my sobs growing louder. I was no longer moving around, and no longer trying to talk myself out of the punishment. I had lost count around 40 strokes, and Jorge stopped not too longer afterward. He helped me straighten myself up, and I pulled my panties and shorts back up, flinching as I buttoned my shorts back up. Jorge tossed the belt aside, and kissed me on my cheek. "I love you so much."

I kissed him back. "I love you, too."

He knocked on the bedroom door, and nudged me gently. I took a deep breath, and apologized to Francisco and Karina. As I finished with my apology, I caught a glance of myself in a mirror they had hanging over the door. I felt my cheeks redden. My shorts were so short that you could see angry red welts on my upper thighs!

Francisco smiled for the first time since I had met him. "Welcome to the family."

Fiction quickie...

*Disclaimer - I've never shared my fiction before! :) Be kind.*

The Overdraft - Part 1

A shiver rippled through my body almost violently when I read the note on the kitchen table.

"Sam - You're Busted. See you at 5. Be ready."

I read the note, what little there was to it, again, and wondered what on earth I was in trouble for. Different emotions rushed through my head. I was nervous, that was for sure. It had been months since I had a real punishment spanking. I was worried about what exactly I had done, and how much trouble I was in. And, as always whenever the prospect of a spanking is in my future, I was immediately turned on.

I sat down my stuff on the table, and glanced at the clock. It was already a quarter till five. I knew it would only irritate Spencer further if I wasn't ready when he walked in the door, so I hurried to my room to begin prepare for my punishment.

I removed all of my clothing, shuddering with excitement when I caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror. I pulled my special "punishment panties" out of my dresser, which were actually a pair of white cotton thong panties, and slipped them on. Next, I pulled on a white nightshirt of mine. I took another glance in the mirror as I walked past, enjoying the sight. Carefully, I placed three pillows in a pile on our bed, and I positioned myself over the pillows, face down.

I got lost in my thoughts as I lay there, wondering exactly what I had gotten myself into. I didn't even hear Spencer come into the house until he strode into the bedroom.

I kept my head down, waiting to be acknowledged before speaking. He put down his things on top of the dresser, and walked over to stand at the foot of the bed. I could feel his eyes upon me, and I shivered again.

"Sam," He began, sounding disappointed. "I never thought you would be so careless." He tossed a paper down on the bed in front of my face. "Six hundred dollars, Samantha. Six hundred dollars in overdraft fees!"

Shocked, I sat up and grabbed the bank statement. He wasn't lying! I skimmed the paper, horrified as fee after fee was charged for dumb things like $3 at Burger King and $1.07 at Redbox! At the bottom of the page, in red ink, was -$756!!

"B-but, my check!" I protested. "Where is the money from my..." And I trailed off, gasping once I realized what had happened. "I forgot to deposit my check this week." I looked up at my husband for the first time, and immediately felt ashamed in making such a dumb mistake. "I'm sorry, Spencer. I just forgot."

He shook his head. "We've been scrimping and saving for months now, Samantha. Digging ourselves out of this hole is really going to set us back." He sighed. "I don't have much else to say about this right now. Get back into position."

Without another word, he started to remove the thick, black leather belt that he wore almost every single day. I placed myself back over the pillows, any sense of excitement gone. I closed my eyes, and clutched the comforter in my fists, bracing myself for the first stroke. Of all of our implements, I hated the belt the most, and he knew that. He pulled my nightshirt up, uncovering my backside, and:

CRACK! The first stroke landed across my ass, and before I could even recover from the shock of the first stroke, CRACK, another stroke landed in the exact same spot. I inhaled sharply, and grabbed the comforter even tighter. CRACK! CRACK! CRACK! After only five strokes, the tears started. CRACK! CRACK! CRACK! CRACK! CRACK! After ten, I was sobbing. He was relentless, stroke after stroke, giving me no time rest between. I lost count after ten, as my sobs grew louder and louder. I was crying from the pain as much as from the shame of my actions.

Then, as quickly as he started, Spencer stopped.

Curiously, I looked up. Spencer was heading out of the room without a word. I was confused, and wondered if the punishment was over or not. I didn't have to wonder for very long, because just then Spencer was back in the room, carrying one of the wooden chairs from the kitchen table. He placed it in the middle of the room, and sat down. "Come lay over my knees."

This was new. I got up from the bed, wiping tears from my face, and draped myself awkwardly over his legs. Spencer placed his right leg over mine, and I had to put my hands on the floor to steady myself.

He reached behind him, and grabbed the wooden bath brush from the dresser. He wordlessly resumed the punishment, and it wasn't long before I was crying again. I received at least 75 strokes with the bath brush! By the time he was done, I was struggling and squirming so hard he had to stop to reposition me more than once.

The last, and hardest stroke he applied to my lower thighs, causing me to squeal in pain. Spencer left me there, sobbing, over his knees as he rubbed my back. "Shhh... its over for now. Shhh..."

I stopped sobbing after a few minutes, and he helped me to my feet.

For now? I wondered what else he had in mind!

To be continued...