Chapter 1— Shuffling and stepping sounds from multiple feet, in concert with sharp, echoing loudspeakers, fill the air. Then there is the shushing sound of the pneumatic doors.
Marisol feels a little shock in her back when the train sets off to leave Pamplona station. It is a five-hour ride to Barcelona, but it is worth it, no doubt. The platform slowly glides by on the silent and smooth drum of the train, while a happy smile broadens her lips. Wow, on her way to Barcelona, this great bustling city at sea, staying with her aunt and uncle, who always welcome her so wholeheartedly. She adores the Mediterranean Sea with its sweet scents, exotic summer ambiance, and palm trees, so different from Pamplona, where she lives and grew up.
She is an only child living with her mother, who makes a modest living in her tiny tapas bar in the cozy Mercaderes Street in the old town center.
On the other side of the wagon, an old couple, seemingly weekend tourists, are about to occupy a seat. The old man lifts their two small suitcases high up, one after the other, and swings them with some difficulty onto the rack above the window. “You can’t smoke here, dear. You know that smoking isn’t allowed anymore in the train,” says the old lady when she sees him taking his leather pipe case out of his pocket. His mouth, located under a gray mustache, mumbles something about ‘modern nonsense’ while he slips back his case.
Once left the station, the train picks up speed rapidly, cadencing smoothly over its course, each traveled mile bringing her closer to him… She sighs.
Marisol has become a confident young lady. Her femininely shaped legs stick out firmly from the short white skirt that she bought yesterday, especially for the vacation. Her shiny black hair reaches way past her shoulders. Next year, she will be finishing her studies in interior architecture. She sees her future with confidence.
It is rainy weather, and heavy clouds are hanging low over the landscape. The green hills of Navarra are rolling by slowly, sometimes briefly hiding behind bushes and houses that sweep past in a blink.
Her eyes are shining with expectation. Wow, she is so looking forward to the weeks that lie ahead. Since last year, everything has changed, having met him for the first time, her new boyfriend from the far north; so special, so different! He is just four years older than her young self, and yet, he has this special air of authority about him. Something that makes her feel safe under his protection.
Her mind can’t help wandering away to that one particular occurrence with him, last year. Her smooth legs shuffle restlessly over the seat at the thought. That day, she had nagged and provoked him unendurably, little brat she could be sometimes. She knows very well how unbearable she is when she has her little mood, and the number of boyfriends she has lost consequently can’t be counted on one hand.
With him, however, things turned out different indeed! A gentle shiver travels along her spine, goosebumps on her thighs, when she recalls what he did, to which she had agreed with a laugh, although she had never taken it too seriously. He flipped her over his knee without wasting any angry words, lifting her miniskirt and tugging down her panties. In her mind, she can still hear the slaps left and right on her bare bottom, smacking so hard and loud that it literally took her breath away. Fireworks and sparks on her backside! She puffs. The very memory makes her squirm in her seat. He then pulled her straight up, close to his face, and gave her a long, warm kiss of conciliation on the mouth, making her feel ever so puzzled but also wonderfully calmed down at the same time. One thing was sure; she had found her stable rock, handling her the way she needed.
She is dying to see him again, but she has never brought up that one special occurrence, though, not knowing exactly how he feels about it. It probably has just been a trivial incident to him. She sighs again in contemplation. Hard loud smacks on her bare bottom when she deserves it! This painful, wonderful sparking glow and tears of remorse…
The intercity whizzes steadily through the landscape, which has gradually changed from bright, fresh green into red-brown and sandy colors. Crude rocky hills emerge out of the hot and dry landscape. Cars glitter in the bright white sun while gliding steadily along the highway that winds through the arid rocky land.
The train slows down and stops in a mid-sized town. Zaragoza station. Three more hours to go.
Shuffling passengers are stepping in and out, and then the doors close again, allowing the train to resume its journey.
Marisol thinks back to the day they first met. Her uncle, CEO of a project company, was proudly showing her around the office. A young man in one of the engineering rooms caught her attention immediately. He stuck out just a bit above his colleagues. Despite his brown eyes, he didn’t look like a Spanish guy. He smiled at her when her uncle introduced them. His name, Hans, sounded foreign. “Estoy de Holanda,” he explained in broken Spanish, his grammar errors sounding funny and so cute in that accent.
“Hola, yo soy Marisol, mucho gusto en conocerte. ¿Cómo te gusta la vida aquí en Barcelona?” she replied friendly in her clear voice.
The northerner looked a bit overwhelmed, clearly unable to follow her rapid cascade of words. With her finger pointing to herself, she repeated slowly: “Yo soy Marisol. ¿Te gusta Barcelona?” evoking a confirmative look of comprehension on his face with a warm but also examining smile. These deep eyes, they seemed to hide something special…
One day, he asked her out to explore Barcelona. The magic click sparked over soon. First, they strolled hand in hand down the Rambla and along the harbor, and later on, in the night, they danced wildly in the disco. From one thing came the other, and love swept her off her feet.
A smile broadens her mouth. She can’t forget him giving so much effort in teaching her to pronounce his name correctly. She really could not get that first letter out of her throat. “In Dutch, you have to pronounce the letter ‘H’ as if you were sighing,” he lectured. She remembers how she laughed out loud. Imagine a letter that sounds like a sigh. So funny and cute!
The landscape has become greener again, however, quite different from the rainy green back home in Pamplona. The dark-green trees are contrasting amiably against the red-brown colored soil and clear blue sky. Bright white cottages with nostalgic red roofs decorate the Mediterranean landscape. So now and then the hills open, granting a glance onto the deep-blue sea.
The train must be approaching its final destination as the rural scenery is giving way more and more to busy motorways, factories, and high buildings. Marisol notices with excitement how the train is losing speed, immersing itself into the metropolitan eclecticism of edifices, traffic rush, walking crowds, and traffic signs to finally glide into the cool shadow of Barcelona station. Her heart is beating eagerly. What will become of this vacation?
She grabs her rucksack and hops out of the train, as scratchy loudspeakers catch her ears while reverberating their announcements over the extended formation of platforms that are covered with people, booths, and billboards. She stretches her neck and scans expectantly over the scurrying crowd. Where is he? He must be there, he must be!
There he is, waving with a red rose in his hand! She waves back, taking an elated sprint and jumps at him, throwing her arms around his neck, followed by an ardent and long kiss. She is so excited. There is so much to tell. He already speaks Spanish fluently. Only his cute accent gives away his northern roots. Engaged in happy chitchat, they find their way to the parking through the hectic flow of people. And look at that; he has got a promotion at work and has swapped his old wheels for a new shiny Golf convertible.
Barcelona city brightly welcomes her when they are driving through the sunny Diagonal Avenue with its abundant green trees and fancy buildings with numerous apartments, shops, banks, and hotels. Turning right into a side street, a residential edifice draws the eye thanks to its extraordinary convex-shaped facades and windows, as if made of pastry. She puts her left hand on his knee and looks around happily, her long black hair fluttering in the warm summer wind, the blue sky cheering with joy about the promising vacation ahead.
Chapter 2— The sun is descending slowly behind the hills, throwing long shadows over the bay.
The tickling sweet fragrance of conifers fills the late afternoon air. The little beach house is safely situated between two rocks and offers a gorgeous view. The sandy beach and the red rocky hills covered with green trees cut a beautiful outline against the sea that is turning dark blue under the dusky sky.
With a generous gesture, Marisol’s uncle has handed over the keys to the little weekend dwelling for the entire duration of the vacation. But the weeks have passed by so quickly. Only two more days to go before the train takes her back home to Pamplona. This vacation has been unforgettable and yet… that restless feeling deep in her…
She paces in the bedroom and then looks at herself in the big mirror. Her skin has turned brown with an almost reddish tone thanks to the bright vacation sun and healthy sea air. Her sporty legs contrast femininely against her white miniskirt. She lifts it for just a moment and caresses her girly bottom that sticks out provocatively in those tight panties.
“Come on, Marisol, get dressed,” sounds his voice from the living room. “Our table has been booked for nine o’clock. It is time to go!”
She scowls in the mirror. Damn, she is so not in the mood for this! Why, for heaven’s sake, did they have to arrange for a dinner with friends in Barcelona tonight? If she had only refused. He enters the sleeping room, already prepared for tonight, freshly dressed in the new jeans and the white T-shirt they bought together in the Corte Ingles yesterday. She displays her reluctance with a pouting face.
“But we have agreed on this last week!” he says impatiently. “And our friends are expecting us, come on, agreed is agreed,” he urges her with a compelling voice.
The little spoiled brat deep inside her takes over control and cries no with stomping feet. Words of vexation fill the room. He is without any appreciation for her attitude. She is angry too. Why is he making such a fuss about this? Why can’t she have it her way? The disagreement flares up. “I am going for a walk along the beach,” she cries impulsively, “just leave me alone!” She intends to turn around resolutely when she suddenly feels his firm grip around her wrist.
“Now calm down and listen,” he says, trying to keep his patience. She wants to push away his grip, but his hand is a steadfast rock. She yanks again in vain. A fizz starts boiling in her veins, like champagne shaken in the bottle, pressurizing under the cork of self-control.
SLAP! In a temperamental impulse, she has smacked him in the face with her one free hand. He has let go of her, caught by surprise. She holds her hand before her mouth, shocked by her own act; what has she done? He only wanted them to spend a nice evening together with friends. A red mark starts fading up on his left cheek, as a token of her misconduct. She is angry with herself. Shit, why is she always so damn proud and impulsive? And moody as well; what on earth is wrong with her?!
They look at each other for a few seconds in perplexity. Suddenly, her heart melts, turning her confusion into passion. She jumps at him and pushes her head against his shoulder. They are standing like that for two minutes, embracing each other without saying a word. Then they look at each other again. His look has changed into an examining and compelling glance that arouses a strange feeling of excitement deep inside her.
He picks up the phone to contact their Dutch friends whom they were supposed to meet tonight. She can’t understand his foreign words, but it is clear that he is apologizing for them not coming tonight.
He then takes her by the hand and guides her to the balcony without saying a word. The sky has already turned dark blue. Little white breaking waves are rustling softly in the inky sea. Two palm trees, protruding from the rocky hill, seem to be ignorant of her bad behavior, waving friendly in the gentle evening air.
They sit down on the balcony couch: she, at his right side. She takes a deep breath, respiring the sweet air of vegetation combined with a soft sweep of sea breeze. The exotic air, however, is not the reason for her breathing so deeply. She glances at her hands in her lap, fingers fidgeting purposelessly. A ruling silence fills the air for a while. Then he talks to her in a calm but authoritative tone.
“What do you think of this yourself? Is this acceptable?”
She puffs and then stutters something, getting entangled in confused feelings.
“I can’t help it, it’s just that I sometimes…”
He silences her with a calm but strict voice.
“So, what do you think should be done with a girl when she behaves so badly?”
She doesn’t know what to say while a strange excitement whirls around in her belly.
“Well, I clearly… I… well, you know… I deserve… I have been…” she stutters clumsily, inclining more sidewise to him with her head against his chest. There is a short silence, but the subconscious exchange of signals between them has taken place faultlessly without the need for more clarification.
With a soft but determined grip, he pulls her further to his left until she is lying on his lap. Her head and chest at the left end of the balcony couch, her knees bent, and her provocative booty high in the air.
She feels how he lifts up her little skirt and carefully slides down her panties over her feet until they land on the balcony floor with a soundless plop. The wind, soft but with a stir of impertinence, skims gently over her bare bottom, making her feel wonderfully naughty and nakedly submitted. His left hand grips her firmly at her waist, while the other hand fondles her tenderly. Soft and smooth is her naked skin under his touch that starts caressing her buttocks and then travels down tenderly to the back of her smooth thighs. How come her nakedness feels so much more exciting when lying over his knees like a bad girl? Suddenly, his right hand’s touch is gone, silently heralding the storm to come. A thrill enfeebles her tummy.
A hard slap smacks down, shattering the silence of the night. Another loud smack lands down, this time on the other bare cheek. God, this hurts. She gasps for air, overwhelmed by a fresh sparking sting. She has survived the first two slaps, she realizes. He bends down shortly and softly fondles and kisses her bottom as if apologizing for what is about to happen.
Then they come in a constant rhythm, one loud slap after the other. Her lungs convulse. At the ninth swat, her bare butt starts realizing that there is really serious business going on, and her hands unconsciously cling to the seat’s cushion. At the fifteenth swat, tears start rolling down her face, while her feet are kicking frantically in the air. Her legs move apart as her right thigh slips over his knees, exposing her even more shamefully. The explosive swats continue as she surrenders to him, squirming and sobbing with remorse.
Suddenly, there is silence. Thank heaven! Her stuttering breath ends with a deep sigh. The punishment has been relatively short. No more than one or two minutes. Would it be over already? She hears something rustle. What is he doing?? She turns her head, lying over his lap, and spots from the corner of her eye how he is pulling something out of the planter. It is one of the rods that seemingly have been stuck in to help uphold the young plants. The rod has the appearance of a smooth switch, agile, and no more than two feet long. He now pulls a towel from the balcony fence and starts polishing the rod until it glosses menacingly against the dusky sky.
Why on earth is he doing that? Why does it take him so long? But he seems to have all the time in the world. Her calves are moving up and down restlessly. She hears whistling sounds but doesn’t feel anything. He seems to be trying it out in the air.
“Okay,” he says with a tone of satisfaction. She feels his firm left hand on her waist again. How erotic his grip, transmitting deep feelings down her belly.
For a moment, the rod caresses gently over her bare bottom and legs, just slightly skimming her skin, as an erotic shiver travels up her back, bringing goosebumps all over her thighs and arms. Waiting quietly, she rests her head on the seat of the couch.
SSSWACK! A sharp stripe lashes across her bare bottom, hitting the left and right cheek simultaneously.
Her head tosses up wildly. SSWACK! A second one. The evil sting makes a strange contrast with the round swirling feeling in her underbelly.
For a few seconds, it is quiet again, but then it happens! Six lashes slash down on her bare cheeks at a quick pace. It is in this steady rhythm that the agile little rod shows its true character. The intensive sting seems to penetrate right through her, driving her crazy. Kicking and squirming wildly, she slips off his lap and almost falls on the floor, her folded-up skirt sliding back over her naked bottom. “Stand up for a moment,” interrupts his voice of authority. She obeys his command on jelly legs, shivering intensely. His steady hands unbutton her waistband, pull the skirt entirely down, and make her step out of it as if she were a toddler, leaving the meaningless little garment on the floor. He clamps her between both thighs and folds her entirely over his left leg, her hands now touching the floor tiles of the balcony that still feel warm from the sunny day. Her thighs, clamped between his, are thus safely locked in. Only her calves can still move up and down. Being sharply folded over one leg reveals what has been hidden before. She feels how the cheeky evening wind caresses gently between her buttocks. This total naked submission…
His left hand returns to her side again, and with loose fingers, his right hand fondles her a few times playfully. Erotic feelings are swirling up wildly inside her; a yearning begging for bitter-sweet punishment overcomes her.
“Fifty times,” sounds his verdict from above. She hears with a shiver how he picks up the rod. What happens now is indescribable and memorable! She feels how each lash whips broadly across her sharply bent bare bottom. The pace is steady and without mercy. Her breath stops, snivels, sobs, shrieks. Tears are flowing down her face. She whines and cries, slapping alternately with her left and right hand on the hard floor tiles that fail to offer any mitigation. Each lash feels sharper than the previous one. No, no, this is… no!! She shakes her head wildly, making her long black hair fan out over the balcony floor. The stinging rain explodes in her mind and then gradually changes into infernal drunkenness. The universe is swirling around her. Slowly, she starts floating away into a black firmament surrounded by a devilish firework of sharp white sparks. She is the center of everything. The time stops running…
Then, it is over. She opens her eyes filled with tears, her wet face close to the warm floor tiles, both her hands clamping onto his masculine ankle as if looking for support. A soft, comforting voice talks to her tenderly. The darkness has set in entirely.
He takes her in his arms and carries her like a bride into the sleeping room. They kiss ardently on the bed as the night rolls over passionately. Under his tender caresses, a thousand tingling stripes awake like in a sweet memory, as her raised booty surrenders to him once more, this time to feel his tongue playing up and down, making her tremble erotically. They then undulate ardently on a wild sea of love, she on top of him, he lying on his back, his hands caressing the sweet welts of naughtiness until she orgasms, immersed in a round climax of elation. Drunk with passion, she slides down on him. Her wet lips surround him intimately, her tongue twirling around the hard contours, up and down, around and around until his warm flow of love fulfills her mouth. She swallows. He moans, throbs, and she swallows again as they merge, she with him, he with her, connected to each other like two links of a chain…
Chapter 3— The train is swaying quietly over its track. They have kissed goodbye passionately on the platform. This vacation has definitely changed something in her. She looks out of the window in contemplation. The intercity slows down to make a stop in a larger town. ‘Lleida’ says the sign on the platform that slowly glides along until the train comes to a stop with a little shock. It is getting rushy now, and the train is filling with passengers. When she slides her legs aside to make way, she feels how the soft seat gently pets the lower part of her bottom. A mild pain caresses her, and a little moan of bliss escapes from her mouth. She settles back in her seat, her cheeky face tanned by the summer sun, staring into nothing, while a mysterious smile plays around her mouth. A smile that none of the passengers will understand. It’s her sweet secret…
