The Appropriate Spank

         The Ambassador adjusted his ball gag before he went out onto the stage. It needed to be loose enough that he could talk, but still tight enough that he looked very meek. The rest of his costume was impeccable: his hair was a very dignified salt and pepper (not a trace of balding, either); and his suit was very formal, but not too formal. It was all quite appropriate.

         He would be spanked by the Environmentalist and it would be very exciting. That was why he was at the UN today, to be spanked by the Environmentalist and to have meetings with various important delegates and industry leaders. The delegates would all be watching his spanking, of course. In fact, he knew that some of them had brought their own paddles, so they could spank themselves, too. There would be plenty of spanking. He was especially excited about the part toward the end of the spanking, when the crowd would be shouting and clapping and he would be making a variety of appropriate, spank-related noises, and the Environmentalist would even cry. The Ambassador was very much hoping that the Environmentalist would cry.

         He adjusted his ball gag one more time, straightened his tie, and then went out onto the stage to meet with the Environmentalist. The curtains had not yet opened, so they were partially in the dark.

         The Environmentalist looked surprised to see him, and he could not imagine why. One of his aides walked out with him and handed her the paddle.

         She looked at the paddle and at his gag. “What on earth is this?” she asked.

         He looked affronted. “Well, it’s why you’re here, isn’t it? To spank me?” His voice was muffled by the gag but he still spoke in his normal tone, which he thought was very mature of him. Much less mature was the Environmentalist, who was frowning in confusion and leaning forward to listen.

         “No,” she said. “I thought I was going to give a speech.” Her eyes looked a little wide and the Ambassador became hopeful that she was going to start crying, but that did not happen. All for the best, since the spanking hadn’t started yet.

         “Well, of course. There must have been a misunderstanding – you’re going to spank me while you give your speech,” he said. His aide made appropriate noises of agreement.

         “Why would I do that? I’m not going to do that,” she said. Her eyes kept flicking from the paddle to his face.

         The Ambassador sighed. He had been afraid of this – sometimes people just didn’t get it. “Well,” he said. “Someone has to spank me. If you are unwilling, then I will spank myself.” He took the paddle from her.

         “But I just want to give my speech. I don’t want there to be any spanking.”

         He snorted. “Young lady, someone has to be spanked, and that someone is me. It’s what everyone expects. I think I’ve been quite flexible with your needs, and it’s time you were flexible with mine. I’ll spank myself while you give your speech.”

         The Environmentalist was going to protest again, but the curtains opened and the whole UN was there watching them. The Environmentalist walked up to the podium and adjusted the microphone as the Ambassador got down on his hands and knees next to her. He was wearing his special spanking pants, which had a very tasteful ass-flap on the rear. He adjusted his tie again, unbuttoned his ass-flap, and waved at the cameras. Several other delegates waved back enthusiastically, and the reporters’ cameras clicked and clacked away. The Environmentalist coughed into the microphone and the Ambassador held the paddle aloft.

         The Environmentalist began. “Thank you for having me. Thank you also to the protesters in the street outside, calling on this global body to do what is right.”

         Smack. The Ambassador’s first spank was a small one, in keeping with where the Environmentalist was in her speech. As the speech progressed, he planned to give himself progressively louder spanks. The crowd clapped in titillated agreement.

         “Excuse me, sir,” said a quiet voice. The Ambassador looked up to see his aide standing there with a clip-on microphone. “If you’ll just let me attach this to your ass-flap, sir,” the aide said.

         “Oh yes, of course,” said the Ambassador. “Please.” He was a little embarrassed that they had forgotten to include it beforehand. The aide began attaching the microphone to the edge of the ass-flap, far enough away from the majority of the ass that it would not be damaged by the spanking.

         The Environmentalist was continuing in a halting, unprofessional manner throughout this exchange. “Year after year you have come here for summits, for meetings, and yet nothing has changed. The world, the younger generations, have watched decades of empty promises come from this body and every major governmental organization on the planet.”

         Smack! As soon as the microphone was affixed and the aide has scurried off the stage, the Ambassador gave himself a loud spank. It was partly to make up for lost time, since he should have had two or three quieter spanks during the opening of the Environmentalist’s speech. A few of the other delegates in the audience, he could see, were spanking their own asses in a generally approving manner. There was a smattering of applause.

         “The science is clear, and has been for over 30 years – yet we still fill the air with pollutants and the planet gets hotter every day. The longer we delay meaningful action, the higher the stakes get, the more species we lose to extinction, the more vulnerable communities are put at risk. You say that you are aware of the dangers we face, but you are either naïve or lying about reality, because you continue to bring us further and further down the path to chaos and extinction.”

         Smack! Smack! Smack! The Ambassador was smacking away quite happily, and the audience was applauding each time. This was all going very well. He hoped that the President was watching. The microphone was even amplifying his spankings louder than the Environmentalist’s speech. He began to accompany the butt-smacks with a variety of piteous “I’m sorry!”’s and “Yes! Tell us!”’s and “We need action!”’s. The audience was enjoying it quite immensely. The ones who were not spanking their own asses were clapping along in time with his spanks. The Ambassador felt quite happy, and all for a good cause. The cameras kept filming and photographing the whole spectacle.

         “None of the solutions, none of the plans that you have shown us here today do anything to resolve the crisis, and some actually make it worse – give me that!” The Environmentalist ripped the paddle out of his hands, her face hard with emotion. She smacked him and the Ambassador felt a searing pain across his rear. “You are failing us, you have failed us, and you will fail the world if you do not accept reality. A mass extinction is underway and all you talk about is endless wealth, even as Creation crumbles!” SMACK. SMACK. SMACK.

         The Ambassador moaned, and the room had gone completely silent except for the clacks of the photographers. The Environmentalist was crying, crying in earnest, tears tracking down her face as she shouted. All of a sudden, the Ambassador was not having a good time. He wanted this to be over. He wanted to be back in his office, or meeting with the other delegates. He wanted to be home. He wanted all of this to go away, the shouting, the smacking, the tears tracking down her face – none of it was appropriate, none of it was as it should be.

         “Enough,” he finally cried, ripping off the ball gag, leaping to his feet and seizing the paddle from her hand. His action was met with enormous applause and the Environmentalist was escorted out of the building. The Ambassador thanked her for her powerful words and gave a short speech on the day’s activities before re-buttoning his ass-flap and adjusting his tie (which had gone askew during the final explosion of spanks). He left the stage to a standing ovation.

         His first meeting was with an old friend, the Executive, who greeted him warmly and held him as he shook. The spanking ordeal had been quite difficult.

         “That was much too hard,” the Executive said. “Very inappropriate. Are you all right?”

         The Ambassador sniffled a little, and then fell asleep in the Executive’s arms.


Zack Fox Loehle is a student in the Kennesaw State University MA in Professional Writing program. His writing has appeared in Mental Floss, SaportaReport, and other newspapers, and his fiction is forthcoming in Steam Ticket


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