Spanking the Mermaid

image from Mermaids Volume 4

by by Luis Buci, Diego Cirulli, and Pedro Cuevas

I've been working on retellings of fairy tales, and recently decided to give them a cp twist. The following is from a work called "Seasiren," based on Hans Christian Andersen's The Little Mermaid as well as the traditional folktale of Bluebeard. I actually started this scene months ago in September 6th's entry, A Writing Spasm. In honor of the amazing response I've received thanks to being recently featured on The Spanking Blog, Abel and Haron at The Spanking Writers, and Dave at The Cherry Red Report, I thought it might be to time to share some fiction--or at least the rest of that scene. So, if you were wondering, this is what I do in my spare time (when I'm not getting spanked, of course).

The little seasiren had not bothered to dress, other than to slip on the sheer cotton pants and camisole she’d found in the armoire. She wrapped herself in her sheet and sat at the window, watching the world go by, knowing now that she was not meant to be a part of it. When the sky turned violet with evening, she did not light the lamps in her room. She barely noticed the knock on the door when it came. Marie or Serena or another man--it did not matter. She continued to stare out the window listlessly.

The accent, when she heard it, startled her back to herself. "I've come for you," said the voice. She turned, clutching the sheet in shame. The man with the blue beard had entered the room and closed the door behind him. He slapped his palm with a riding crop. She had seen men with such implements riding large four-legged creatures down the street below her window. Perhaps he had come to rescue her. Hope, fierce as the frenzy with which she and her sisters had once torn men apart, tore through her. She stood, allowing the sheet to fall from her nearly naked body.

He could barely see her in the darkness, but the rustle of fabric and the gleam of her pale flesh made no secret of so much bare flesh. His body stirred, but Marie had sent him for a reason. "Light your lamp," he commanded, pointing to the small gas lamp on the vanity by the window. Serena had showed her how to do this, and she accomplished a small flame with shaking hands. Once he could see, he lit the other lamp on the bedside table and sat on the edge of the bed, placing the crop on the disheveled blanket next to him. The little seasiren stood bravely in the light.

"Come here," he said to her sternly, his voice rough but soft. She approached. Their eyes were level as they measured each other. "Do you know why I'm here?"

She nodded her hand. With a brazenness that surprised them both, she ran her hands over her breasts and belly then reached for his hand, encouraging him to do the same. Bluebeard laughed and she blushed a violent crimson. He shook his head.

"No, no, little one. That is not why I'm here." The little seasiren's eyes sought the sheet lying on the floor. Bluebeard took her chin in his hand and brought her gaze back to his face. "Madame Marie told me you deserve to be punished, little girl," he told her, "but she didn't tell me why. I don't know what you've done, but I will punish you until you are contrite."

She tried to step away from him, but he grabbed her wrist. "Over my knee, Melodie." She shook her head, not understanding. Her new legs trembled. "Come here," he demanded more forcefully, pulling her towards him and over his linen trousers in one swift motion.

She lay limply across his lap, for a moment too shocked even to struggle. The small of her back glistened. She was so pale, so delicate. He wondered whether Marie was not being cruel in asking him to punish so fragile a girl, but once she was positioned fully over his lap, her bottom surprisingly full and splayed wantonly over his thighs, he silently thanked the Madame for this unexpected gift. He cupped one cheek, then the other, testing her bottom's resiliency. Now she squirmed. When he slapped her once, firmly, she tensed then looked back at him slowly, shaking her hair from her eyes. He saw shock there, and confusion, but at the core of her gaze was a hunger unlike any he'd seen from any woman back home or here on this godless island. In the humid evening, he shivered. "Eyes on the floor, young lady," he demanded, catching the tremble in his throat. "You know what you've done." Even if I don't, he thought to himself before raising his hand over her.

Pain akin to the tearing of her tail into two legs seared through her backside. She shook her head wildly and kicked her legs, but it only made him slap harder. Her mother's voice flashed through her mind. "Every pain you feel on land will be double," she had said. But so would every pleasure. She had to find a way to take this. At least she had blacked out when she had taken the draught. This agony did not end.

(Second half to be posted this weekend... this bit takes up enough space as it is!)