#824) The Return of the Old Girlfriend

There was a sharp knock on my apartment door. I wasn’t expecting anyone, so it alarmed me.
“Who’s there?” I called out. No one spoke up, alarming me more. I don’t have one of those peepholes in the front door, so I got some Mace spray I keep handy, and figured that I could get to the push-button if it was a bad guy. I braced myself so as to be ready to attack, unlocked and opened the door.
It wasn’t a bad guy, exactly. It wasn’t a guy, it was an old girlfriend, Rebecca.
When I say “old” I mean former. Becky was about my age. When I say girlfriend, I’m trying to say that I loved her, wanted to be exclusive and date just her, but she didn’t feel the same, so we drifted apart, and she disappeared out of my orbit. I still had raged feelings and it had been over a year since I last saw her. I guess my face expressed all this.
“Surprised to see me?” she smiled, and then kissed me. I wasn’t ready for it, so she ended up kissing the side of my mouth. That felt like a perfect summary of our entire relationship. She was past me and inside before I knew it. I probably would have let her inside eventually, but it, once again, felt like she was two steps ahead of me and I was playing catch-up. “So what’cha been up to?” This is why I would’ve kept her outside my door, to get this bullshit out of the way, so that we could be real for once.
So, we talked for a moment about surface-level crap, none of the stuff that really needed saying. But Becky had totally surprised me showing up unexpectedly like that, and I really needed to pee. The question flashed through my mind, Do you trust Rebecca alone and unsupervised in your apartment? To which my mind answered, You’ve had your tongue lodged deeply up this pretty woman’s butt hole, among other intimacies, so Yes. And I excused myself and went to the bathroom.
I was not prepared for the sight that greeted me when I emerged from the lavatory. Becky had taken the opportunity to strip off all her clothes and stretch out on one of my chairs. The late afternoon sun bathed her already gorgeous body in the most amazing golden light, giving veracity to the phrase, “sun’s out, buns out.”
“I like this chair! All steel and black leather. Is it new?” Rebecca asked as if nothing was out of the ordinary.
“Yeah. Yes, it is. In fact, it was quite expensive…”
“It reminds me of one of the implements you used to use on me, a thick black leather paddle with a reinforcement of something stiff inside it, like a flat piece of steel, or something… Do you still have that paddle?”
“As a matter of fact, I do,” I replied. I realized that I hadn’t moved since I first caught sight of Rebecca nude, stretch out comfortably on my designer furniture. It was like this vision of Rebecca of old had rooted me to the spot on the hardwood floor.
I won’t stoop to making any puns here about wood and the view, but then Becky took things to another level.
“Listen… I always felt bad… about the way things ended… between us… What do you say… you get that wicked, black leather paddle… and you make things right between us…?”
I knew what she was getting at, but I wanted her to grovel more, “What are you saying, Rebecca?”
“I’m saying that I’d like it if you used that paddle on me once again… I’ve missed you, missed our play… Remember how good we were together…?”
“I do,” I replied, trying not to think too much about it. “As I remember, you used to get pretty damn wet when I’d paddle your butt…”
“I know…” Becky responded seductively, added a little squirm of her hips for emphasis.
“I’m thinking that maybe I better get a towel to put underneath you along with that paddle… give me a minute.”
The look on Becky’s face told me that she thought she’d won yet again. I liked that she thought that for the moment. Therefore, she wasn’t suspicious when it took me a little longer than expected to return to her. First, I adjust my chair, lowering the upper part and raising the bottom half. I balanced the paddle that Becky said she remembered so fondly on the small of her back. My unspoken message was to subliminally say, Hold still. Rebecca did, and I systematically fastened a padded cuff around each of her wrists and ankles and clipped each one to the steel bars of the designer chair. Only then did I stuff the thick terrycloth towel under her loins.
I picked the heavy paddle back up. Becky and I exchanged looks. Suddenly her mood changed, she sensed what she was in for.
“I’m kinda glad that you feel bad about the way we ended, Rebecca!” CRACK! I brought the paddle down hard across her buttocks. “I felt bad about it, too!” CRACK! “For weeks afterward.” CRACK! “No word from you.” CRACK! “My calls going straight to voicemail.” CRACK!
“I’m sorry! It was unavoidable…”
CRACK! CRACK! “My guess is that you found someone else who you thought had deeper pockets than I have…” CRACK! “Does that sound about right?” CRACK!
“No! No, I got a call from a sick relative… They…” CRACK! CRACK! CRACK!
“So you are not back here because you need a loan of money…?” CRACK!
“Well, the surgery my Aunt Anne needed was very expensive… And I thought…”
CRACK! “I thought you told me that you didn’t have any family still alive…” CRACK!
I saw red. I unloaded on her. I paddled Becky’s butt crimson, then worked my way down the backs of her legs. With her so nicely immobilized, I then took a firm pinch of butt cheek and parted her. I really enjoyed paddling her pink little butt hole hard and long, remembered way back when, when I used to enjoy licking her there. Rebecca really started to yelp and beg during that.
“I’m gonna undo your cuffs in a minute.” CRACK! “When I do, I strongly suggest that you make a bee-line for the door.” CRACK! “Because I’m gonna continue paddling you all the way.” CRACK! “If you turn around, I’ll happily paddle your tits and vagina.” CRACK! “Do you understand me?” CRACK!
I did as I said, unclipping her right wrist last, and started herding her toward the front portal like I was a cowhand herding a heifer out of the rodeo arena. Half way to the door, Becky stopped dead in her tracks and turned toward me.
“What about my clothes?”
I caught Becky with an uppercut with the strop right across her right nipple, sending the booby bouncing about and Becky back to running toward the front of my home.
I went back to working on her ass with the paddle. CRACK! “I might throw them out to you from an upstairs window once you’re safely locked out.” CRACK! “Now keep moving!” CRACK!
After I turned the bolt lock on the front door, and Becky was once again out of my life, I took my sweet time gathering her clothing and waltzing up the circular stairway. Becky had taken refuge in her car while she waited. As I threw the articles of clothing down to her on the front lawn, I made-up a lie.
“I just called 9-1-1, informing them that there was a lunatic loose on my property, such a crazy bitch that she’d taken all of her clothes off while she threatened me and ranted about spacemen spanking her! I suggest you get out of here and never darken my door again, bitch! And by the way, now we are even. Have a nice life!”
Rebecca didn’t bother to put any of her clothes back on, just threw them into her old Camaro and roared away.

(This is another effort in writing a story where the protagonist is ambiguous. Could be a man, could be a woman, could be you; do you think I was successful? Tell me what you think, please!)

6 responses to “#824) The Return of the Old Girlfriend”

  1. Well, Jean Marie, that is quite something! There are some phrases and sentences in this piece which really get to me, if you know what I mean…
    Sophie x

    Liked by 1 person

  2. I think if an ex-girlfriend took me to task like that, I’d never be able to stay away from her. She’d be a keeper! Kinda wish my ex-wife would stop by and work out a few things to her satisfaction. Dang you’ve got me all worked up! lol

    Liked by 1 person

    • I find your response fascinating, elseepa! In my mind, I was recalling a previous male lover as I wrote this story. I could not trust that guy as far as I could throw him, so this conditioned my thinking. But you would seriously like to rekindle a romance with your ex-wife? Very interesting, and it speaks volumes about you in a positive way.


      • I’m really old-fashioned about marriage and believe it’s a life-time commitment, regardless of how good or bad things are going. In my case, it just couldn’t be saved no matter how hard I worked at it or how much I put into trying to make it work. I’m a musician and have a deeply passionate desire to serve those I create for. I don’t make a lot of money but I make up for it in my desire to serve and did all of the typical “manly” things around the house in addition to all the household chores. I like things CLEAN, so I actually liked the results enough to not mind the chores themselves). I’m really detail-oriented and work very hard to be good at what I do. (I used to have a recording studio and would have female clients and made sure the bathroom was cleaned every time I had a session. I had women comment on how clean the bathroom was. I knew how important that is to women in general and loved doing it for their comfort and to help keep their “spirits up” doing the recording sessions.) There’s also the aspect of being a failure. One of the burdens of being a creative person is the acute pain of failure. If I could save a failed marriage, I could save anything! Thank you for such a kind reply!

        Liked by 1 person

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