Guest Story: The Hottest Night Of The Year

By John S MacLeod
(inspired by the artwork 'Valentine’s Heartburn', by Banjo)

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“Hey, babe – wassup?” Brandon asked upon walking in the door, being greeted with the sight of his raven-haired girlfriend wearing nothing but perfume and the tiniest of white panties.

“Mmm, I was hoping to coax you into taking me to dinner,” she purred.

“I’d rather stay here,” he smiled, “but if the lady insists... Where did you have in mind?”

“Oh, I don’t know – you could surprise me. Do you have reservations anywhere?”

“In this town?” Half the places didn’t even take reservations and on a weeknight it should be no problem.

“Silly boy... you didn’t forget Valentine’s Day, did you?” Ashley asked in a mock-teasing tone, knowing the answer only too well. “You did, didn’t you? We won’t be able to get in anywhere without reservations...”

“Oh, God, Ashley, I’m sorry...” Brandon told her with real regret – and rising alarm. “I’ve been so busy lately...”

“Don’t worry, I’ve got evening enough planned for both of us,” she reassured him.
“Three presents – you can have one, I’ll have one, and we’ll share one. And two cards – I guess this is the one you should get.” With that she chose one of two envelopes, the red one – setting the pink one aside. “Go on, open it.”

His heart thumping wildly – and for a different reason than just a moment ago – Brandon opened the envelope Ashley handed him. Inside was a card with hearts on the outside and two poems on the inside. On the right, printed, was standard greeting-card text. On the left was a hand-written poem titled ‘The Hottest Night of the Year’.

It’s the hottest night of the year
And it will be for you though I fear
The heat will be felt on your rear
Which I’ll use a paddle to sear

Even the rankest beginner
Would have made reservations for dinner
And while it wouldn’t have made me any thinner
A box of candy would have made you a winner

Once you’re sufficiently sore
You’ll wish you’d been to the store
If a card your signature bore
At least you wouldn’t be in line for more! ;->

It’s the hottest night of the year
And it will be for you though I fear
The heat will be felt on your rear
Which I’ll use a paddle to sear

“Um, yes...” was about all Brandon could think of to say, hard pressed to appreciate the verse for its artistic merits. He could hardly be surprised – Ashley routinely smacked his butt for “pleasure or displeasure,” as she called it – though tonight it sounded like it’d be entirely displeasure. “Listen, baby...”

“No, no, no ‘baby’. Plan B doesn’t include you calling me ‘baby’. Now let’s shed those pesky clothes and we can head into the bedroom to share the presents that I, at least, had the foresight to get for us.”

This did not sound as good to Brandon as her tone or words implied. As he quickly if anxiously stepped out of his shoes and socks and stripped off his pants and shirt Ashley held out her hand for him to remove his briefs and hand them to her. “Knees, perhaps?” she suggested and he immediately dropped to a more respectful height. Though an erection was stirring, he knew it wouldn’t get far before being chased away by the solid rump-roasting she clearly had in store for him. With hands behind his head, elbows out – just like she liked – Brandon made his way slowly into the bedroom where his hot-bottomed fate awaited.

Once there, however, his unclad beauty seemed to be in no hurry to get down to the task at hand. Still assuming a romantic spirit, she quite happily produced a medium-sized, gift-wrapped bundle, handing it to him to unwrap. Inside was a small teddy bear with red-tinted fur holding a large heart professing the standard ‘I Love You’ sentiment. “How perfect,” she smirked, “his little butt is bare and red – while yours is only bare so far. But we’ll fix that, won’t we, dearest?”

“No doubt we will,” Brandon grumbled.

“Not complaining, are we, darling? Unappreciative of all the effort I put into the ‘hottest night of the year’? After all, someone had to, and it certainly wasn’t you, now, was it?” With this statement Ashley drew herself up, tempting him with her luscious bare breasts, nipples firm.

His own condition beginning to follow suit, he quickly responded with a “No, ma’am,” in hopes of preventing any additional motivation on this already difficult-seeming evening.

“And for me, a box of chocolates!” she continued. “So convenient, since we wouldn’t be able to get into a restaurant until midnight. I really shouldn’t...” she mouthed automatically, patting the flat abs of her well-toned stomach, “but I guess since I’m skipping dinner I can afford one or two.”

Last but certainly not least, Ashley produced a smallish flat package from beneath her pillow “for them to share.” About the size of a long letter-envelope, on receiving it Brandon realized it was both considerably heavier than it looked and much lighter than he had feared. Upon being unwrapped it turned out to contain an equally-smallish pink plastic paddle with a large heart cut-out. He felt no relief at its diminutive dimensions, knowing his strict girlfriend’s proclivities too well for that. To follow this toy with a serious paddle, strap or session with her hairbrush would not be the least out of line for her.

“Do you like it?” she chirped. “I bet you can tell which end’s yours – the one with the heart!” Brandon was tempted to say he felt that maybe she should get “the more romantic” end, but held his tongue. “They had ones in evil black leather and flimsy toy-store plastic, but this Lexan one is supposed to be the most ‘memorable’. And since we want to help your memory all we can, I just knew it was the one for us!

“Now if you’ll just climb on up on the bed here... that’s right, bottom up, head down... well, shoulders down, I want your head up,” she directed poor forgetful Brandon into position. “Be ready - while the results are supposed to be delightful, the application itself may be a bit... onerous.

“Knees apart just a bit. A bit more, I mean.” An encouraging tap caused him to open his legs widely despite his anxiety. “I want to keep an eye on you,” she teased. “Now,” carefully centering the silhouette in the middle of his right cheek, “I need to be... precise.”

“OW! OH! Holy shit, Ashley!” Brandon cried out, leaping up as the paddle made contact with his proffered posterior – but one glance at the look on her face had him scrambling back into position. “Sorry, ma’am. Sorry. Sorry.”

Neither scolding or sighing, Ashley simply aligned her love-symbol with Brandon’s left cheek. “Head up!” she asked nicely before printing a palm-sized, heart-shaped blister on that spot as well. While Brandon, with great effort, maintained his position and kept his reply respectful (if unintelligible), the second swat had been every bit as shocking as the first. Two more swats stamped the images left by the first pair, and two after that.

“Now, Brandon, sweetie, I am going to need you to hold still,” he was told, since he hadn’t been doing so very well with it. “One miss needs about three, I believe, to make up for any blurring of the outline.” Brandon resolved to keep himself still, despite the tremendous difficulty.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” he assured her every third or fourth swat, whenever he could manage the words.

“And what are you sorry for?”

“YEOW! OW!”

“What are you sorry for, Brandon?”

“AHHH! I’m sorry... OW! That I forgot Valentine’s Day! IEEE!”

“And a present?”

“HA! JEEZ! Yes, and a present,” he avowed sincerely.

“Well, now, if you’re really sorry...”

Somehow Brandon had convinced himself that he would not hear this particular statement on this particular evening, though he’d known all along how unlikely that was. “I am. I am sorry.” Thankfully, the lesson had stopped long enough for him to speak.

“Well then?”

A few taps of the paddle did little for his attention, thought her expectation was firmly in the front of his mind. “I’m sorry, Ashley, for forgetting Valentine’s Day – and a present for you,” he began. “Um, ma’am... may I have a dozen to demonstrate my, um, remorse?” This last part came out as part squeak, part whine.

“Of course you may, my dear boy. Now, to make these really stand out, they will need to be very, very hard – and I think one dozen on each cheek will work better than splitting them. May I give you a dozen a side? I know it will be very hard for you but it would make me so very happy.”

His butt-blistering having developed a real sense of regret combined with his intense desire to please his lovely lady – even apart from his intense desire for his lovely lady – his reply was only briefly delayed by his instincts for self-preservation. “Yes, ma’am, please. May I have a ‘full’ dozen?”

“You really are too sweet,” Ashley assured him. “Head up, now,” and his expressions reverted to simple syllables.

“Now into the corner for a bit – the corner of the bed will do, thank you. Here, you can have your new friend Red Ted to keep you company while you give me those lovely hearts to gaze upon and while you contemplate the importance of remembering important occasions and little gifts. I don’t need anything elaborate – tonight’s gifts weren’t expensive. It really is the thought that counts and it’s the lack of thought that leads to such sorely-stinging buns!

“And I’ll just sample this candy a bit to take the edge off any hunger pangs... then we’ll see about remembering a card before we get down to dealing with dinner reservations!”

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