01 September 2009

Story: Beach Party

Misc story.  Jennifer seems to care more about partying since she went to grad school than she does about actually going to class.  Fortunately, she has a mentor who knows the appropriate remedy to that.

Beach Party
by Breanna Carter

It was 4:27am when my phone began vibrating in my pocket. I was lying on the beach, stoned out of my mind, giggling with my best friend from school. I don’t even know what we were giggling about. Probably something random, like the way the moon glowed behind the clouds, or how I wanted to write on the ocean with a neon green pen. Then the phone started jiggling the change next to it, and Amy looked at me.

“Your phone’s ringing,” she said seriously.

I stopped laughing, blinked, then burst out into giggles again, trying to fish the phone out of my pocket.

“Who’s callin’ ya so late? Don’t they know tonight is party night?” Half priced drinks night at the bar was always party night for Amy and me. Who cares that it was a Thursday night, and I had class at 8am the next morning. It wasn’t like I needed that class much anyway.

“It’s Matt,” I said, groaning a little before answering.

“Where are you, Jennifer?” he asked. I’m sure his tone was irritated, but I was too high to care.

“On the beach, by the ocean,” I answered, giggling again and playing Connect The Dots with the stars.

He sighed. “It’s 4:30 in the morning and you’re on the beach? Seriously?”

“It’s actually 4:27,” I told him.

“And you have class tomorrow. Haven’t we talked about this before?”

“Class is lame. Partying is so much cooler.”

“We’ll talk about this when you’re not inebriated. For now, get back to your apartment.”

“I’m not…”

“Now, Jennifer,” he said firmly.

Eck… when he used my full first name like that, in that sharp voice, it meant he was quite frustrated with me. “Okay, fine,” I said, rolling my eyes. “Only for you, though.”

“Back to your apartment and into your pjs. Set your alarm then go to bed. Understood?”

“Goodnight, Matt,” I said, not even bothering to wait for an answer before hanging up. “We should go back to the apartment,” I told Amy.

She nodded, understanding that Matt was kind of my big brother, and if he told me to go home, it was in my best interest to do so. “Lame-o Matt spoiling our fun,” she muttered, but giggled anyway. “It’s okay, though, it is pretty late. And I have to work tomorrow.”

We pushed ourselves up and trudged through the sand towards our apartments, which were conveniently 50 yards from the beach. We said our goodbyes and I shoved my door open, careful not to wake my roommate as I put my pjs on. I didn’t bother setting my alarm, just fell onto my bed and snuggled in my blankets.

The next morning I woke up to a knock on my front door. I ignored it and put the blankets over my head to try to block out the sunlight and noise, but the knocking continued. I groaned, “shut uppppppp” and “go away!” before finally rolling out of bed and opening the door. I noticed the bright sunlight before I realized that Matt was standing right there.

“I figured as such,” he said, pretty much pushing me out of the way to get inside the apartment.

“Most people wait for an invitation before they come inside,” I muttered.

He wasn’t amused. “Your class started two hours ago. I called you this morning to make sure you were up and ready, but you didn’t answer. And now I see why.”

I closed the door and shivered slightly. He was pretty pissed off at me as displayed by his demeanor and the fact that he’d driven all the way out to pay me a visit this early in the morning -- he lived about three hours away and worked graveyard shift, so it was obvious that he’d left almost right after work.

“Come here,” he ordered.

“Wait, Matt, I can explain…” I began, except I couldn’t really explain, so I don’t even know why I tried.

“I don’t need an explanation. You stayed up all night partying and neglected, once again, to go to your class. Keep this up, Young Lady, and you’re going to fail.”

“I won’t fail. I’ll get a doctor’s excuse. I’ll say I was sick.”

He shook his head. “Grad school doesn’t want your excuses, Jennifer.” He sat down on the couch. “Come here.”

“Matt, nooo!” I whined, backing away and covering my bottom. “What if my roommate comes home?”

His eyes narrowed and I could tell that my pleas were not helping my case any. “Get over here, now!”

I began whining, near tears, not wanting to get what I completely and totally deserved -- a good spanking. “Matt, I promise I’ll do better.”

He stood up, seizing my upper arm and pulling me towards the sofa. “I’ve heard enough of your promises,” he told me as he sat and practically threw me over his lap.

“Pleaseeeee,” I begged.

He tugged at my pj pants and panties, sending them to my knees. “This is the second time you’ve missed this class since school started, Jennifer,” Matt said, slapping my bare bottom hard and fast.

“Oowwwww, Matt! I’m sorry!” I yelped, biting my lower lip so I didn’t cry out too much.

“You’re paying way too much money for this to throw it away. All of this partying you’re doing is going to stop,” he stated simply, letting my sit spots and thighs feel his wrath for a minute or two.

“Okayyy! I’ll stop partying!” I whined, kicking and squirming to dodge smacks.

He held onto me tightly so that I wasn’t squirming so much and kept spanking. “I’m going to make sure of it,” he said -- classic line.

“I really will stop!!” I promised.

“I know you will.”

I held on tightly to the couch cushions, still kicking slightly, and crying out at each swat that landed on my upturned bottom. It hurt soooo much and I just wanted him to stop already but nothing I was saying seemed to be helping!

“Partying will be reserved for the weekends, Young Lady, is that clear?”

“Yes, sir!”

“And during the week, I expect you to be in by 11, and in bed by midnight unless I tell you otherwise, got it?”

I wasn’t really in a position to argue, even though I wanted to. “Yessss I got it!” I assured him, kicking my legs a little.

He stopped and I exhaled, glad that he was finished. Only he wasn’t. He readjusted my undies and pjs, then helped me up. I reached back to rub, but he gave me a look and I stopped. “Go outside to my car and get the paddle.”

“The… paddle?” I asked, chewing on my lower lip and giving him a pathetic look.

He nodded and pointed towards the door.

“But…” I began, only to be interrupted by a firm swat to my already sore bottom. That got me going. I scurried towards his car, fetched the god-awful paddle, hid it as best as I could so that no passer-bys would see it, and ran inside. He held out his hand, asking for the small wooden paddle. “Do you really have to use this?”

He chuckled slightly, ignoring my question. “Over my lap, kiddo.”

I whined, but complied in an effort to make this easier on myself. “You know I hate the paddle.”

“That’s the point,” Matt said, discarding my pjs and panties once again and resting the paddle against my backside. “Maybe after a good spanking with this you’ll decide to start going to class, huh?” he asked, giving me a hard Pop! and sending my hands flying back to my backside. “That’s not where your hands are supposed to be, Young Lady,” he scolded, popping my thigh.

“Owwww! I’m sorry,” I shrieked, hesitating to move my hands away, but after another prompt swat on the other thigh, I did as I was supposed to. “Owww, Matt, please. I really hate that paddle.”

“Then I assume I will be getting my point across.” He landed a flurry of hard smacks which got me kicking and crying out very quickly.

“You are! I promise you are, pleaseee stopp!” I begged, squirming to try to dodge smacks, but being very unsuccessful. I reached back again only to get my wrist pinned against my back in the process, and some uber hard smacks to my thighs. I tried my hardest not to cry, but it was useless. After about a minute with that stupid paddle, tears began to spill from my eyes. I couldn’t even beg for him to stop anymore ‘cause I was crying too hard. And it’s not like it would’ve helped anyway.

“I don’t want to ever hear of you skipping a class again,” he said finally, giving me a quick two swats on each sit spot and sitting the paddle down. I sobbed into my hands, trying to wipe the tears away as hurriedly as they fell, but no such luck. Then he helped my clothes back up and held me in his arms.

“I’m s-sorry,” I hiccupped, burying my face into his chest.

He kissed my forehead, holding me tightly. “I know, little one. You gotta stop messing around so much, though. You’re old enough to know better than to party so much and skip out on classes.”

I nodded -- he was right, I did know better, but sometimes play was more fun than work, and I wasn’t ready to be responsible yet. Not that it mattered… looked like he had other ideas in mind. Sniffling a final time, I wiped the rest of the tears away and gave him a big hug. “Thank you,” I said in almost a whisper.

He smirked. “You’re welcome. Now get dressed so you can get to school and find out what you missed.”

I pouted for a split second, just enough to get “the look,” then did as I was told.

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