Unhealthy Activities

Title: Unhealthy Activities
Author: Dice
Author's Note: I heard about this prank on the radio and it came to me that in a top/brat situation it could be pretty funny.


Teaser: Smoking is bad for your health, even your top smoking is bad for your health if you decide to do something about it.




It was insane really. I realised that shortly after I did it. But I do hate him smoking. It stinks up the place and it's just not good for him. He's old for crying out loud! Thirty nine already, he might get cancer and I'll lose him!


His dad died of lung cancer – or was it his heart? I keep getting it mixed up, he died when he was fifty anyway and I want to keep my love until he's at least a hundred and can't spank me anymore!


These were the thoughts going through my head as I stared into his flaming eyes and wondered how soon that heat would transfer itself onto my bottom, my gaze sank down to my toes. He was talking about fire and playing with matches and pranks and responsibility. I was hearing spanking, spanking, spanking, spanking, spanking!


It had sounded like such a good idea when I heard that guy talk about it on the radio! Take one cigarette, remove the tobacco and put a broken off match inside and put the tobacco back. Then wait until someone lights it and watch the fireworks.


Yeah, there would be fireworks all right!


He was still lecturing for all he was worth. Couldn't he just get it over with? I wanted to kiss and make up and forget I ever listened to the radio. They should have brat safe radio channels – channels where they never gave you stupid ideas! Preferably ones without commercials so you never went out and bought something idiotic either.


"Get the cane!"


My head shot up. What did he say? He hadn't said what I'd heard him say, had he? No, he hadn't. Couldn't have… he had, he most definitely had. I whined and groaned and moped, until he turned me around, swatting my bottom rapidly and mercilessly.


I jumped into the bedroom, looking over my shoulder at his ominous form in the doorway. Waiting to deal out pain and humiliation. I whined some more.


"Get the cane and come here!"


"Oh, c'mon! This isn't my fault!" I muttered. It wasn't, it was the radio's! Well, truth be told it was actually, if you thought hard about it, all my boyfriend's own fault!


"Really?" he smiled – now that wasn't a good sign, not that particular smile anyway.


"Well, if you didn't smoke I would've never…"


"You are not turning this around to make me feel guilty! You could've burnt my nose off, you pyromaniac!"


"But I didn't mean too!"


"You know my father died of a heart attack! You want to give me one too?"


"I don't want you to die from anything! Ever! I want you to be with me forever!" My lip quivered and for a moment he seemed to be changing his mind about the whole thing and then his resolve returned.


"Nice try! I said to get the cane."


Heartless old sod! I trudged over to the closet and dragged out the horrible weapon and then turned around, tears welling up in my eyes. He cleared his throat.


"Come here then, let's get this over with," he said quietly, making it all even more dreadful with his serious tone.


I obeyed slowly, knowing that this was something unavoidable and better gotten over with, but it didn't keep me from whimpering as he placed a hand on my shoulder bending me forward across the arm of the couch.


The cane's familiar, though rarely heard, swish through the air made my entire body tense up and the line of searing pain most likely outdid any singeing of his fingers from the damn match. Of course pointing out such a ludicrous notion would only get me in deeper trouble, so I held still and squealed, while he caned me thoroughly for my dangerous prank.


He let me sob into his shoulder for as long as I wanted to, once he thought I'd had enough, giving little room for apologies as he kissed my mouth again and again as I tried to tell him how very sorry I was.


"But I really am…" another kiss, "Please, I'm…" and again! Finally I gave up trying and just laughed. His eyes were warm and he stroke the tears from my cheeks.


We made love on the couch, cane lying forgotten on the coffee table. He was always gentle and sex after a punishment was always soothing and brought us closer than anything else did. Afterwards I lay with my head on his lap and he stroke my hair absentmindedly.


"You know what?" he said after a moment. "I usually feel like a cigarette after… you know? But right now I don't want one at all."


I smiled, knowing he couldn't see me. What is it they say about silver linings…


The End