What’s better than getting drunk and telling off your ex-best friend? Oh, I don’t know, maybe getting hauled out by a cute co-worker to whom you confess your love for spanking. And then the next morning you’ve already forgotten about it and he’s already starting to spank you and you’re like wtf? Yeah, that was my fantasy. I wrote about it.
I chugged down my fifth wine cooler, already feeling a good buzz. It was a little after ten on a Saturday night and I was hanging out with a couple of my guy friends, all of whom were more drunk than me and finding it mildly amusing how angry I was at two of my current friends.
“I hate that bitch,” I muttered to them, opening a sixth wine cooler.
Joey giggled, drinking his nasty budlight. “And you hate her why?” he asked, tapping his friend so they’d listen up to my rant, again. It’d been about the fourth time I’d repeated the story and they found it more entertaining each time, probably because I added another insult.
“Because she’s a hippopotamus and she’s stupid and I hate her.”
“How’s she stupid?” Joey’s friend asked after dissolving into giggles.
“Because she wanted to get pregnant and have the babies of a stupid illegal immigrant who already has a fucking wife.”
The two boys looked at each other like a couple of daring school girls. “Do you wanna have my babies?” Joey asked. “I’m not illegal or married.”
“No thank you,” I sneered, drinking some of my wine cooler. Ah, how nice it felt to drown out all of my problems in alcohol. Unhealthy, I’ll admit, but it’d been a long time since I’d been able to do that. I hadn’t been able to drink away my sorrows since Alex and I had been friends. Alex… the illegal immigrant I was talking about. Yeah, he’d decided to knock some girl up and then was persuaded to treat me like I’m not worthy of his presence.
“Actually, it’s the other way around,” I told Joey and his friends.
“What’s the other way around?”
“He’s not worthy of my presence.”
“Oh? Why’s that?”
“Because I’m sooo much better than him and I’m hotter and have a great personality. He’s just stupid. He shouldn’t be allowed to see me.”
“You should tell *him* that,” someone said, obviously sick of my complaining.
I glanced at that guy, finishing off my wine cooler in one gulp, then popping another open. As you can imagine, I was feeling excellent. “You know, you’re right,” I told him, taking a big gulp then attempting to stand up. “But first I have to pee. Is anyone sober enough to drive?” I asked. Before letting anyone answer, I stumbled towards the toilet and took care of my business, not forgetting to wash my hands with soap and water. I get very OCD when I’m drunk.
I somehow made it back to Joey’s room and drank the rest of my seventh wine cooler, and finally opening the last one. He’d bought me all those drinks and that just gave me another reason to drink them all. At least it was my excuse.
“So you’re going to tell your stupid friends that they’re stupid?”
“Damn right I am. Give me the phone. I’m calling a taxi.”
Joey threw the cordless phone at me and missed me by inches, but it was okay because I wouldn’t have caught it anyway.
“What’s the cab number?” I asked.
Joey shrugged, then popped a friend upside the head, asking him to get the phonebook. Instead of getting the phonebook, he asked me to try calling “222-TAXI” because it sounded good enough. Surprisingly, it really was a taxi service!
The man on the other line assured me that a taxi would be waiting outside Joey’s apartment within ten minutes. I thanked him a countless number of times, listening to him chuckle. He must have known I was drunk as a skunk…
I hugged Joey and all of his friends, wishing them a fun night. They cheered me on, telling me to tell Alex and his girlfriend off and let them know that I’m worth more than they make me out to be. They were pumping me up so much that I was ecstatic as hell to tell my friend and had to be helped downstairs to the cab.
“Just be careful, for real,” Joey said, blue eyes shining.
“Thanks Joey!! You’re the best! Thanks for the alcohol!”
“No problem, kiddo… just don’t get into any trouble, okay?”
“Me? Trouble? Yeah right!”
He gave me a slight nudge then helped me into the cab where I, once again, began complaining.
“.. and THEN she had the fucking nerve to treat me like I wasn’t good enough, like I wasn’t there for her, like I didn’t help bail his ass out of jail. Not to mention that he doesn’t even talk to me anymore and… oh, I’m so sorry, I know you don’t care, I’m just rambling. You’ll have to excuse me, I’m a little drunk.”
“I couldn’t tell,” the cab driver answered, smirking.
“So how about you? Do you have any crappy friends?”
“Everyone has crappy friends.”
“And we should let them know how crappy they are, right?”
“If that’s what you want to do, then, sure!”
“I bet you’re not a crappy friend! You sound like a really nice guy!”
He smiled. “Why, thank you.”
“I’m sure plenty of crazy drunk girls have told you that before, huh?”
He didn’t want to hurt my feelings by telling me yes, so instead he just pulled up to Mr. Pizza’s parking lot, not letting me give him any money for the ride.
“This one’s on me. You’re a doll,” he said. “But be careful tonight, okay? You’re not going to drive home, huh? You have a ride?”
“Well, you know the number, and my name’s Pete.”
“Thanks, Pete! You’re the greatest!” I had the sudden urge to hug him and give him a big kiss on the cheek, but decided against that since I would have never done that when I was sober.
I skipped through the parking lot of Mr. Pizza’s, seeing my “friend’s” car and narrowing my eyes towards it. I’d gone from being totally happy to being livid. I stormed past the car, trying to open the front door of the restaurant, then noticing that it was locked. It was after ten… they closed at ten.
I stalked around to the back. I was allowed to go in through the back door since I used to work there and my friend was the only manager present. I swung the door open, seeing my Mexican friend, Angelo. Even in my drunken state, he was the most beautiful creature I’d ever seen. His hair fell past his shoulders as he stood towering over me, a good six feet tall. He was wearing his blue Mr. Pizza’s shirt that was tucked in with a belt, showing that he was quite buff. His dark eyes looked deep into mine, and I noticed his beautiful smile and the fact that he was clutching onto a mop. Ugh, he even had beautiful hands!
“Hey Katy!” he said, grinning from ear to ear.
He must have missed the fact that I was stone drunk. “Hey Angelo,” I muttered back. “Where’s Alex and Amanda?”
He pointed towards the front.
“Thank you very much,” I said, nearly tripping over my own feet to get to the front.
As I steered my way through the obstacles of the pizza place, I finally came upon the two figures, sitting near the cash register, talking and not getting a bit of work accomplished. Of course, Alex didn’t work there anymore, and Amanda was a manager so she felt as if she didn’t have to do anything.
“Oh, hey Kathryn!” Amanda said, as if we should be excited to see each other.
“Don’t pull that shit,” I spat at her. “Don’t ‘hey Kathryn’ me. Don’t try to pretend like you’re not a bitch.”
She blinked, sort of confused.
“What’s your problem?” Alex asked.
“YOU’RE my fucking problem, Alex. You haven’t fucking talked to me in months because you’re stuck up that bitch’s ass and you think that she’s a fucking goddess and I know damn good and well that she’s not and you’re just a stupid little prick who has a FUCKING WIFE in Mexico for god’s sake. And you’re both stupid for trying to have a goddamn baby. It’s going to be the most screwed up little shit because you two don’t love each other… it’s just in your heads.”
Alex glared at me and Amanda looked like she was about to cry.
“Don’t fucking look at me like that, Alex,” I scowled, getting up in his face. “And don’t call me when you need something, ’cause I won’t be there. Don’t call me when you need someone to drive you somewhere, don’t call me when you get put in fucking jail. I won’t help you out. I’m through bailing you out of shit. I’m finished with you and her. I’m sick of you two using me. You’re just a heartless….” and I went on to say words that even I’m ashamed of, ignoring the fact that a crowd of Mr. Pizza’s workers was forming around us.
“Shut up, Kathryn,” Alex told me, showing me that his girlfriend was crying.
“You think I give a shit about her? Or you? I don’t give a fuck. I don’t care anymore. Do you hear me? I DON’T CARE! And you two can go fuck yourselves… or each other… and have more goddamn babies and I won’t be there to help it and you can live your sorry asses off the fucking government because you’re too goddamn lazy to make anything out of yourselves and…”
Before I could continue, I felt Angelo’s hand on my shoulder.
“Get the fuck off of me!” I told him, shooting him a death glare.
He looked at me and said sternly, “You need to go.”
“Fuck you. I’m not going anywhere until I tell these motherfuckers what I think of them.”
“Kathryn,” he said, keeping his cool, unlike some of us (me) who had already turned around and started screaming at Alex again. I was talking out of my ass. I don’t even remember what I said. I was probably just repeating myself.
Angelo had had enough and grabbed my upper arm, beginning to pull me away. “Let me GO,” I yelled at him.
He was too strong for my fights, and the fact that I was drunk was probably in his favor. “Come on, Kathryn,” he told me, pulling me away from the cash register.
“I’m not finished with you two!” I told him. “I’ll kill you in your sleep!” By the time I’d said that I was already back towards the door and Angelo shoved me outside.
“What the hell are you doing?” he asked. “You tell them you’re going to kill them, they’ll call the police on you.”
“You’re acting like a twelve year old.”
“I don’t care.”
“Fine. Go home then.”
“I’m not fucking going home until I finish telling them what I think.”
“You’ve told them enough. Go to sleep. Tell them when you’re not drunk.”
I digested that, then started bawling.
I could feel him rolling his eyes and sighing at me. “What is it?” he asked.
“I don’t have a way to get home,” I shrieked. “And I can’t go! My mom will kill me!”
He sighed, unlocking the door to his car and opening the passenger’s side. “Get in, I’ll be back out here in a few minutes.”
I nodded, still crying. “I’m sorry!!” I wailed.
“Okay,” he answered, shutting me inside his car.
I’ll have to admit, I only stayed in there a few minutes, but it was boring as hell. I tried to keep myself entertained by playing with the dice that hung from his mirror, but that lasted for about thirty seconds. Finally, as he’d ordered, I lay my head back and tried to get some sleep. Everything was spinning so much that I was scared I might throw up all over his car.
He came outside before I knew it and unbuttoned his Mr. Pizza’s shirt, throwing it in the backseat only to be wearing a tight undershirt. It was yummy, to say the least.
I looked up at him with pathetic eyes.
“What?” he asked, pulling out of the parking lot.
He didn’t disagree… of course, he didn’t agree, either. “Why do you say that?”
“Because I lost it. I was just really pissed.”
“I understand why you’re mad, but you’re drunk. When you’re drunk you need to let things be, not go all over town yelling at everyone you’re mad at. You’ll end up getting yourself arrested… and besides, aren’t you too young to be drinking?”
“Last I heard, you were only seventeen, and the drinking age is twenty-one. So you’re lucky as hell that Amanda didn’t call the police on you.”
I poked out my lower lip in a pout. “But they deserved it.”
“They deserved *some* of it, but they also deserved it from the calm, rational Katy that I know.”
I gave a pathetic, weak smile. “I know,” I murmured, starting to feel sick.
I don’t remember the rest of the ride home, just listening to Mexican music that I’d heard before but I can’t tell you what it was or what they were saying. In fact, I can’t even tell you if Angelo talked to me during that car ride. Just that I kept hiccupping and watching the trees outside my window and trying not to throw up.
When we arrived at his apartment, he helped me out of the car and up the steps. I nearly fell into his arms, but not because of my drunken state, because he was just so beautiful that I wanted him to carry me. I think that was when I thought about something else I wanted from him…
We got inside and I instantly sat down in the middle of the floor, pouting.
“What is it?” he asked, throwing his shirt into the dirty laundry basket and taking his hat off.
He sighed at me, obviously disappointed in my actions.
“I want a spanking,” I whined, out of nowhere. Like I said, I was drunk. In sober conditions, I wouldn’t have said that… no one knew about my *secret.*
“A what?” he asked, not comprehending that work in English.
But don’t worry, I already knew what it was in Spanish. That was how long I’d wanted to tell him that I wanted him to spank me. “Nalgadas. Quiero nalgadas.”
He raised his eyebrows. “Not tonight,” he answered.
“Yes!” I said, throwing a fit. “I need nalgadas tonight!”
He took his undershirt off and threw it across the room. “No, we’re going to bed,” he answered, holding out his hand to help me up.
I just whined more.
“Katy, I’m not going to say it again.”
“But what about nalgadas?”
“Tomorrow, okay? Come on,” he kept his hand held out, shaking it around so I would put my hand in his and get up.
I shook my head defiantly. “ToNIGHT!”
“Are you a little girl?”
“You sure as hell are acting like a brat.”
“I need nalgadas,” I said, ignoring the room that was spinning.
“Did you not hear me say you’d get one tomorrow?”
I pouted. “I need it tonight.”
“I know that, but it’s not like you’d be able to feel it anyway.”
“That’s a good thing.”
“For you it is, for me it’s not. Now, get up off the floor and go to bed.”
I shook my head.
He sighed in exasperation and grabbed my elbow, lifting me up.
I was whining like a baby, being a defiant little brat like I sometimes had the tendency to do. “Leggoooo!” I cried… and no, I wasn’t talking about eggos… I was saying ‘let go’ but my words were so slurred together.
And just like that, he popped me a good one on my backside. It shocked the hell out of me so much that I stopped whining and fighting.
“Are you going to go to bed like a good girl?” he asked.
I poked out my lower lip, playing into the innocent little girl act. “Yes.”
He sternly pulled me towards the bed and plopped down, pulling me towards him. “Are you okay? Are you sick?” he asked, not as annoyed as he’d previously been with me.
“I’m okay,” I mumbled, closing my eyes and trying to make sense of what was happening.
He talked to me some more but I was so out of it that I don’t think I even responded, just passed out cold.
I didn’t sleep very well, and it didn’t help that I was waken early in the morning by a tugging at my jeans. “Wh-what are you doing?” I asked, eyes still closed and not really concerned, just thinking about how my stomach wasn’t too happy with me.
“Giving you what you asked for last night.”
At that point in time, I had no clue what I’d asked for the night before, just let him do what he was doing. He tugged my jeans down to my ankles, then moved his hands towards my panties.
“Heyy!! Angelo…!” I said, turning around to keep him from doing so.
He popped my bottom hard. “Hands away, Kathryn,” he scolded. “I’m giving you your ‘nalgadas’ that you’ve been asking for and believe me, you’re not going to forget this one.”
That’s when it clicked. Oh shit… “Wait… are you actually going to give me a spanking?”
“Isn’t that what this looks like?” he asked, tugging my panties down.
“Wait… nooooo..! I was drunk!”
“I don’t care what you were. You asked for it, I’m giving it to you,” he answered, moving to the left side of me and holding me down with his left hand.
“Pleasee Angelo… don’t do this…” I begged and was amazed that I was begging like so. This was actually what I wanted, but it felt like the right thing to do, you know? Like it was more normal to be begging to not have a spanking..
He swatted my bare bottom and I squealed like a little girl. “I’m going to do this and I’m going to tell you why,” he scolded, popping me a couple of more time. I squirmed like crazy, holding onto the blankets to keep from reaching back. “Last night you came into Mr. Pizza’s, drunk off your ass,” he began, slapping as he spoke, “and said some very disrespectful things to your friends.”
“Ooowww!! Angelo!! Please!! They’re not my friends!!” I begged. “I’m sorry!!”
“Well, you were very disrespectful, none the less, and I won’t tolerate that. And to top it off, I generously allowed you to stay with me and when you got here you acted like a royal brat.”
“Ooohhh that hurrttsss!!” I bawled when he started concentrating on my sit spots. I was kicking like crazy and squrming, trying to dodge smacks.
“Be still!” he scolded, smacking harder. It wasn’t working too well, though, because I was in so much pain I had no idea how I was supposed to be still! “Is this the first time you’ve ever been punished like this?”
“Y-yessss,” I cried. “It hurrttsss!!”
“Good. So I assume that you won’t forget this and next time you’ll act more responsibly, huh?”
He kept on spanking, trying to keep me as still as possible. “If you don’t stop moving so much, I’m going to take this belt off.”
“Noooo, pleaseee!!” I begged. “I’ll be goooood!!”
SMACK!! SMACK!! SMACK!! “Yeah, I know you will,” he answered, smacking my thighs a couple of times. I howled in pain and bucked up and down.
“Okay, that’s it, I’ve had it,” he said.
“Noooooo!!” I wailed. “Pleaseeee!! I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry!”
“Pleaseee Angelo,” I begged, turning around to note that he was unbuckling his belt.
“I said, get up.”
He slid the belt through the loops and held it up, crashing it on my bottom in such a stinging manner that I was up in no time. “Bet you wish you hadn’t asked for this last night, huh?” he asked rhetorically and dragged me towards the couch, placing me over the edge. He held me down. “If this doesn’t stop your squirming then I’ll have to find something else that will, so I suggest you stop,” he said, giving me three good whacks with the belt.
I let him hold me there, face buried into the couch, screaming into the cushions. He did it like that for a long time, smacked me three times, then gave me a short break, then spanked three more times. I began crying like a baby about halfway through the smacks, when he started concentrating only on the sitspots. I tried to give him my sincerest of apologies, but it wasn’t working since I couldn’t talk.
He finally slid the belt back through the loops of his pants and delivered a firm smack on my bottom with his hand. He helped me up, a warm look on his face, inviting me into his arms. “Katy, you’re my favorite and I don’t want to see you do this to yourself, okay?”
I smiled through the tears. “Okay.”
His hand crept down and felt my warm bottom. “Get dressed and we’ll go get some lunch.”
I wiped the tears out of my eyes, whispering a thank you in his ear then dressing myself. A spanking and free lunch, how much better could my day get?