Whip the Cat

Date, spanking, whipping, belt, humiliation, friend

"What are you doing?" he asked, surprised and angry at the girl standing in front of his car.

Roger was sitting in his car ready to drive off when Carla ran up to the passenger side, opened the door, and let herself in.

"Aren't you taking me home?" she asked innocently.

"No, and fuck you, get out," he said quickly, turning away from her, hands clenched on the steering wheel.

"You just left so quickly," she shrugged, still looking at him with those doe eyes which made him angrier.

"Well, what the fuck did you expect?" he asked. He stared out the window at the large neon sign of the bar of which he had just stormed out. He gave her a sideways glance. "Where's your new friend?"

"With his friends where I left him."

"He should take you home."

"But I came in with you."

He turned to her angrily. "Yeah, you did. And what'd you do once you got here? First punk who starts flirting with you... You're on a date with me, aren't you? Still you--"

He stopped when she put her hand on his thigh.

"You're so sensitive," she said with little laugh.

"Carla," he said, throwing his hands up. "Just go..."

"Take me home," she purred, puckering her lips in a childlike puppy-dog face, with a hint of a grin.

He shook his head. He pictured her with that guy at the bar, the way he leaned over their table, right between them, his back to him, flirting with her. Then there was the way he was dancing with her after Roger came back from the restroom.

But now her hand was sliding up and down his thigh.

"Please?" she said, bobbing her head while she got comfortable in the seat.

He cursed and turned the engine on. As he drove, he kept trying to think of ways to dump her. I don't want to see you anymore 'cause you flirt with anybody. I don't like you anymore 'cause you don't like me as much as I like you. I'm dumping you because you sleep with other people faster than you do with me. I want to go back to being just friends where I was more comfortable before I asked you out.

When he pulled into the driveway of her apartment building, he stopped and readied himself.

"Come upstairs," she suggested.

He looked at her, confused. "Carla..."

"The date is over?" she asked, wide-eyed before chuckling and shaking her head. "Shortest date ever."

"Well?" he shrugged. "You ran out on me."

"You ran out on me. I had to come find you." She leaned into him. "You give up so easy."

Her proximity was confusing him. And her hand was going for his thigh again.

"You're mad at me?" she asked.

He stared at her hand. Then at her bare thighs squeezing out of those denim shorts.

Her hand was on his face now.

"What are you going to do about it?" she asked. The headlights of a passing car illuminated the inside of their car and he could see her determined face, her eyes locked on his, her lips.

He stammered. "I, I, uh, I don't, I, know..."

"Be a gentleman," she said, nodding towards her door.

He pulled the car into a parking spot, gave her one more look, before exiting the car and coming around to open hers. He watched the red toenails of her feet in her strappy lace-up sandals emerge from the car. Her belly button said hello as her small white T-shirt lifted a little. The brown hair curled around her face as she stood close to him before turning to walk to the front door.

He exhaled loudly and closed the door. He followed her sweet round behind, packed so snuggly in those shorts, her cellphone popping out of the back pocket.

As he followed, he thought to himself, I don't deserve this. Fifteen minutes ago, he was thinking of all sorts of names to call her. Now he was thinking of names to call himself for leaving the bar.

She couldn't get her keys into the door. She clicked her tongue and stomped her sandaled foot. He smiled at her little performance and took the keys from her to open the door. She curled into him like a helpless kitten with her hands on his chest. He took her hand, feeling better and bolder and was about to lead her upstairs when she started leading him downstairs instead.

She was looking around to see if anyone noticed.

They were in a basement with a low ceiling and a few washing machines.

She pulled him further in.

"Still mad at me?" she asked in a pipsqueak voice, tugging on her T-shirt, that cute belly button exposed again

Roger was about to shake his head no, but the look she gave him made him stop.

"Be mad at me," she said in a lower, breathier voice. She placed her hands on the counter of one of the washing machines and shook her ass at him. "Punish me?"

He stood next to her, watching her bent over the machine, her feet wide apart.

He shook his head. "Not with the shorts on," he said finally.

She smiled and stood upright. She stared at him as she unbuttoned, unzipped and wiggled the shorts down to her ankles.

"Keep going," he said to her.

She grinned some more and then with hips rolling, slid the black panties down to her ankles as well. She stepped out of them and kicked them to the side. She resumed her position.

He took a moment to marvel at the image.

This girl used to be one of his best friends. They had always playfully argued with another and had joked about spanking as a punishment for all her many misdeeds and mishaps with guys. Now here she was.

He reached under her to squeeze a breast. She moaned at that and closed her eyes.

"Ready?" he said.

She bit her lip and nodded.

He brought his hand up and she sucked in air and held her breath.

Her first spank came down so hard her knees buckled, and she yelped. He clenched his fist and recoiled his hand instinctively and was ready to apologize but she smiled and still had her eyes closed.

"Bad girl," he said to her, impressed.

She made that puppy face again and nodded. "So bad."

"What?" he said quickly as he struck her again, the slap echoing throughout the basement.

"Bad," she repeated.

Another spank.

"Bad!"

"And nasty," he added through gritted teeth and he spanked her three more times in rapid succession while she repeated his new insult. Her knees buckled again, and she fell on her arms over the counter. She was breathing harder now.

"Forgive me?" she said as she struggled to get back into position.

He grabbed a handful of her hair and made her turn to him. He leaned in close to kiss her. She closed her eyes and puckered her lips ready to receive him. When he didn't kiss her, she opened her eyes. He gave her hair a yank before letting it go to give her another spank.

"Ah!" she cried out, wincing.

He slid his hand under her T-shirt to squeeze her breasts again. He squeezed them hard and gave the nipples a pinch.

"Take me upstairs now," she said to him, standing up and leaning into him.

Upstairs. To her apartment where he spent so many nights. So many nights—listening to her problems, fixing her computer, ordering stuff for her online, chatting endlessly with her roommate while she fucked a guy in her room.

"You're not forgiven yet," he said.

She laughed at that and resumed her position, shaking her hair out of her face, ready for more.

He went behind her and took her arms. He gently made her lean her chest on the counter and twisted one arm behind her back. He made sure she wasn't in pain. For now.

With his freehand he started unbuckling his belt.

"What are you doing?" she started to ask.

He stopped and spanked her once. "Face down!"

She turned her face, but her body was starting to squirm.

He undid the belt and pulled it out.

"Wait," she started saying.

"Hush!" he said to her.

She clenched her fists and closed her eyes and waited. "Oh my God, okay. Okay. Oh, God. Okay." She groaned through her teeth, anticipating what was coming.

He wished it had been an actual whip so that he could snap it into the air and make that crashing sound. But this was all he had.

Her reddened ass was squirming. Her feet were stomping. She was panting.

Then lightning struck her ass, and she yelped a loud, sudden cry. She was ready to fall to the ground, but he was holding her.

"You okay, Carla?" he asked.

She gave out a weak and muffled, "Yes," as her body continued to squirm.

He lashed at her again.

Her knees snapped together while her feet continued wiggling and panicking. A long-sustained groan was coming from her.

A few more snaps made her cry out. He moved hair from her face and saw real tears in her eyes.

"Carla, Carla. You had enough?" he asked, ready to stand her up.

But she gave him a defiant look and shook her head.

He laughed out loud and readied his belt again. She grinned, blinked out the tears and turned her face back around. She groaned again, ready for the pain. He raised his mighty hand ready to belt her.

But instead of whipping her again, he tucked the belt under his other arm and instead reached between her legs. He fingered her, slowly at first, then faster. Her groaning became "Ooh!" and "Aah!" as he worked her over, and the occasional "Oh!" as he poked her in the ass as well.

She was drenched. And she couldn't hold it. For the mess she made, he punished her again with the belt with three more lashes, making her cry out to God again. She dropped down and was squatting over the wet floor, head leaning on the washing machine, body shaking, as she recovered.

When she had enough, she struggled to get back up. She curled into his arms as he held her.

"Oh, God, Roger..." she said to him, burying her face in his chest.

He ran his fingers through her hair and slid them down to her ass and gave it a pat that made her jerk in pain. "Now you're the good girl," he said to her.

She laughed at that. She reached up to kiss him and he let her. A long kiss. When they were done, she wrapped her arms around his neck.

"Upstairs," she said, but he shook his head.

"Not on the first date," he said flatly.

She looked confused as he pulled her arms off his neck. He pointed to the mess on the floor. "And you've got to clean up."

He pulled away from her. She stared at him with her hands still in the air. He walked over to where her shorts and panties were and picked them up. He walked past her to the stairs with them.

"Roger?" she asked.

"Keepsakes," he explained to her.

"Roger!"

"I'll text you later."

He stopped by the door and gave her a smile and blew her a kiss, before exiting the apartment building. He got into his car and pulled out of the parking spot. As he was about to go, he caught a glimpse of her through one of the floor's windows as she hurried up the stairs in only her T-shirt, her brown hair and bare ass bouncing behind her.

As he drove home, he got a text message from her that read, "Asshole!"

He pulled over to text her back. "Any ideas for our second date?" he asked her.

He continued driving and didn't get a response. He was disappointed when he got home and still hadn't received anything. He laid in bed holding her black panties. He was about to fall asleep.

Then a reply buzzed on his phone. She had sent him a picture.

It was of a cat o' nine tails whip.

He flew out of bed. He went online and ordered one immediately.