S e v e n t e e n

It was all in slow motion, my reaction; It was like it didn't happen, not at first but later when I felt the sting and then the warm feeling slipping slowly through my veins.  My brain went into shock when he lifted me over his shoulder and started walking as if nothing had happened, as if it hadn't been the palm of his hand that made my body buzz. My brain kept replaying the moment over and over until I woke up when he let me down by throwing me on the bed. He exited the room right after, no words said, not even a look; he simply turned around and closed the door after him.

My skin prickled. I wanted to look, I wanted to see it — the mark, I mean. It is not every day that I'm spanked. I guessed the effect would soon appear, perhaps an imprint of his whole hand or a few fingers. Still, it would be there when I looked.

As a child, I had been punished for any mischief I had made. My father believed that pun