The Football Player

On a Monday before Brian finished the chair, Shannon got a call from a friend in New York, one who knew her from the scene. “It sounds like an emergency situation,” Tina told her.

Shannon laughed. “Emergency? What, he needs an emergency spanking or something?”

“Yeah. At least–the guy sounded like he was on the edge of panic. He got my name from a friend of a friend of a friend–you know how it is. But I don’t have room for anybody else, and anyway, he’s down in your new neck of the woods.”

This time, Shannon sighed. “I’m already working one who is nothing but complicated. I’m not sure I can handle another bundle of complicated shit.”

“Give him a call, at least. Talk to him, see what you think. He really sounds desperate.”

“I’m a dominant, not a shrink.”

“Hey, if he needs a shrink, make him go to one. Just get him through whatever this crisis is, or don’t. Just talk to him.” Tina laughed. “I know you, girl. I know what a hard-on you have for needy guys, especially when what they need is a good, hard whuppin’.”

“Okay, okay. Give me his number.”

Tina complied. “Let me know how it goes.”

“I will.” Shannon thought she would anyway. She had a busy day ahead of her, what with the shopping she still had to do for the house. At least she’d already written her letter to the grant winner. She could mail it when she went into town. It took a lot of groceries to support her household. She was considering hiring Kenny full time as chef and grocery shopper as well as security. She didn’t like having to go into town as often as she was having to.

On her way home, she called the number Tina had given her. It was answered before the first ring finished.


“Hello. This is Shannon Stirling. Tina Faro gave me your number.”

“Oh, thank God.” He sounded ready to collapse with relief.

“Let’s not get ahead of ourselves yet, darlin’.” She hadn’t made up her mind. “What’s your name?”

“Deshaun. Deshaun Jackson.”

“And what is it you want from me, baby?”

He cleared his throat, lowered his voice and spoke. “An ass whipping.”


“Cause I messed up. I messed up bad, and the only way I’m gonna get my head out of the mess I made and start getting straight again is if I get a whipping.”

“How did you mess up?”

“I missed three sacks, I got tagged for four penalties, and missed covering a fumble. Plus some tackles I messed up.”

“Are you a football player?” That was probably a stupid question, given what he’d just said.

“Yes, ma’am.”

“One bad day doesn’t mean–”

“It wasn’t one day, ma’am. Sorry, shouldn’t have interrupted. Sorry. But it’s not one day. That was just one day, but this has been going on three weeks. Coach is fixin’ to kill me. My teammates are too. I gotta do something to get my head on straight, and this is the only thing I can think to do. I can pay.”

“I don’t do this for pay, darlin’.” She told him about the institute, and that of course, they took donations. But his visit–if she agreed to see him–was free of charge. “Though I would appreciate it if you would be willing to anonymously answer questions. Nobody would know who you were.”

“I don’t care. Just–please, please, Miss Stirling. I need it bad. I need it so bad I’m shaking. Can I come?”

She could hear the shaking in his voice. That was what finally decided it for her. “Are you all right to drive?”

“Yeah, I think so. If I know I’m coming to you, and you’ll take care of me.”

That was the truth of it, she thought. Someone else to take care of. She gave him directions to the institute. “Drive up to the gate. Give your name to the security guard, and do what he says. I’ll meet you there.”

It took him another hour after she got home to reach the front gate. Kenny was there, working his first full-time day, waiting for him. He told Deshaun to park in the gravel-paved lot just inside the high wall and come in to the guardhouse. That gave Shannon time to walk down from the house.

It was another hot day, and she was dressed in a light-weight embroidered peasant blouse and full, turquoise gauze skirt, along with flower-embroidered ballet slippers.

Deshaun was waiting in the conference room reading the paperwork. He was a huge man, and definitely a man. She’d been afraid he would be a boy, a high school player. But he was an adult. Well into his 20s. And he was enormous–easily six and a half feet tall, weighing well over 200 pounds, maybe over 300, all of it muscle. He had no neck. His skin was a warm cafĂ©-au-lait color, and he wore his hair in a cascade of medium brown curls that fell past his shoulders. He wore a pastel green polo shirt, khakis and boat shoes without socks, along with an enormous diamond-crusted ring on his right ring finger.

“Do you understand the papers?” she asked, padding silently into the room.

He jumped, then closed his eyes while his shaking slowed, the papers rustling in his trembling hands.

“Relax, baby.” Only after she warned him did she set her hand on his massive upper arm and squeeze. How would Tim react to not being the biggest any more, she wondered idly. “Do you understand?”

“Yeah. It says I’m here voluntarily and willingly taking part in anything that happens here. I’m doing this because I want to.” He opened startlingly green eyes and looked at her. “Where’s the pen?”

Shannon produced one and watched him sign. She handed the papers to Kenny to file. “Now,” she leaned against the table and folded her arms. “Let’s talk. You want an ass-whipping, right?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“I aim to take your pants and your drawers down and whip your naked ass. That okay with you?”

“Yes, ma’am.” His melon-sized hands clenched into fists.

“I can use a belt, a cane, a paddle, a padded PVC pipe–that can leave some amazing bruises–a switch from the peach tree out back–” She paused when Deshaun stiffened. “Okay, peach whip it is… If you come back after today, we can experiment with other things.”

She thought a little more. “Deshaun, if this isn’t about sex for you, that’s fine. I’m happy to help you out. But if it is tangled up in sex, that’s fine too. It’s pretty tangled for me–whipping you is going to get me all kinds of worked up. I’ll tell you that up front. Just so things are clear. If you’re interested in exploring anything that direction, you just have to say so, or you can pull your pants up over your sore ass and say ‘thank you, ma’am,’ and go. Okay?”

His pretty skin went a ruddier shade of warm. “Yes, ma’am.”

(Excerpt word count: 1190, story word count: 5627)

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