My former babysitter (M/F story)

I was talking a walk in the park near my home, enjoying the scenery, when a particularly attractive sight caught my eye. At the side of the path, a woman had bent over to fix the shoelaces which had come undone, and her tight jeans offered a delightful view as they stretched over her shapely rear end. I stopped, drinking in the sight, smiling when her backside swayed enticingly as she tied her shoes. My eyes continued to travel over her body, when I suddenly noticed that she was looking straight at me. I felt that twinge of embarrassment that any young man feels when he's been caught gawping at an attractive woman.

She smirked at me as she rose, when her eyes suddenly widened. "Josh! It's you!"

Now that I heard her voice, and was looking at her face, I suddenly recognized her as well. "Hello, Marilyn," I mumbled, blushing bright red. It was one thing to be caught staring at the bottom of a woman I didn't know. It was quite another thing when the woman in question turned out to be my former babysitter.

"It's so good to see you," she exclaimed, giving me a warm hug. I was surprised; if she was upset at my leering, she was doing an admirable job of hiding it. "How have you been?"

Half an hour later, we were sitting at a café. I'd bought a black coffee, and she had ordered a glass of soda with a straw. We'd been chatting about the things we'd been up to in the years since we'd seen each other last.

"I've finished my second semester in college, and spent most of the summer working in a warehouse," I told her. "The pay's not great, but it's good exercise, at least."

She grinned. "I can tell." She leaned forward, running her hand across my chest to feel the muscles.

I paused; was she flirting with me? It certainly seemed that way to me. Or was I reading too much into things? I didn't want to misread her signals and ruin the mood. "Thanks," I mumbled.

She tapped her fingers on the table. "You know, you were a cute kid back then – and usually so well-behaved." She smirked. "Though there were a couple of times I had no choice but to take you over my knee."

I grimaced at the memory. As a young teenager, I had felt I was too old for a babysitter, and far too old for spankings. Unfortunately, my mother disagreed on both counts. "I remember. You always made it clear how disappointed you were when you were forced to do it. You hated spankings."

"Nuh-uh," she said, wagging her finger at me. "Not true. Not true at all. I hated to spank. Not the same thing." I frowned, not sure what she meant. She took a sip of her soda. "And you? How do you feel about spankings?"

I raised an eyebrow. "I think you know perfectly well how I felt about being over your knee," I told her. "Obviously, I hated being spanked."

A teasing smile played on her lips. "And how about being the one giving the spanking? How do you feel about that?"

I frowned, wondering why in the world we were talking about spankings. "I don't know," I told her. "I've never spanked anyone."

She looked into my eyes, clearly anxious to hear my response. "Would you like to?"

Tiffany's request (M/f story)

The doorbell rang late one Saturday afternoon as I was sitting on the sofa solving a crossword. I opened the door to find a gangly teenager in a green top and blue jeans, and with her short, red hair in pigtails. She gave me a friendly smile, though she was also clearly somewhat nervous. "Hello, Mister Fenwick."

"Hello." There was a pause as I tried to remember whether I'd met her before, when I suddenly recognized her. "You're Tiffany, aren't you? Christina's friend?" Christina was the daughter of my neighbour Brenda.

She nodded. "May I come in?"

"Of course," I said, stepping aside to let her enter, though I was wondering why this girl would be visiting a middle-aged man on a Saturday evening, when she should probably be out partying. She removed her shoes and followed me into the living room. "May I get you anything?" I asked. "A cup of tea? Some soda? I might have a pack of biscuits in a drawer somewhere…"

"Just a glass of water, please," she said quietly.

I fetched her a glass and a jug of water, and I also took the opportunity to refill my teacup. I sat back down on the sofa, directing her towards my best comfy chair. "Now, Tiffany. What can I do for you today?"

She bit her lip, trying to figure out what to say next. I smiled cheerfully, trying to make her feel comfortable, but remained quiet to give her time to think. After a few seconds, she looked at me. "I know that you spank Christina," she told me.

I raised an eyebrow at this unusual topic of discussion. "What makes you say that?" I replied noncommittally. I couldn't imagine Christina telling her about her punishments, and I saw no reason to share any details with her friend either.

"I was at her house once to borrow some shoes," Tiffany said quietly, a far-away look in her eyes. "When I arrived, she wasn't home, but she returned a few minutes later – rubbing the seat of her jeans with a tear-stained face. Her mother grinned and told me everything."

I nodded. That sounded like Brenda, all right. She was delighted when I put her daughter in her place, and was not shy about taking the opportunity to embarrass her further.

"I also know that she's not the only girl around here that you spank," Tiffany went on. "Marybeth was willing to describe the trips over your lap, and Abigail even raised her skirt and showed me the marks." She blushed. "She let me touch them."

There were a few single mothers in the neighbourhood who had a daughter they were unable or unwilling to handle. They would send them over to me with a letter describing their infraction, and I would punish the girl as I saw fit. I then wrote a note about how they were punished, signing it to let the mother know that justice had been served. It was not a service I particularly enjoyed, but I was always willing to help someone who needed it.

I could tell that Tiffany still had something to say, so I stayed silent.

She filled her glass, taking a slow sip as she prepared herself. "And that's why I'm here," she said, putting the glass down. "To be spanked."

Being sent next door (M/fF story)

"Oh, hello, Christina," Sheldon said cheerfully as he answered the door to find the daughter of his next-door neighbour Brenda standing on his doorstep.

"Hello, Mister Fenwick," the teenager responded, in a despondent tone. She had her hands behind her back, and a look on her face that suggested that she wanted to be a million miles away.

"Now, what can I do for you today?" he said, still in the same sunny tone. Sighing, Christina took out the letter she'd been holding behind her back, offering it to him. He frowned. "I see," he said, his voice now markedly less friendly. "A letter from your mother again? I guess we'd better head inside."

Christina's legs trembled slightly as she followed her big, strong neighbour into his house. She knew what was about to happen to her, and she was not looking forward to it.

A few months ago, Brenda and Sheldon had been chatting at the garden fence. "I don't know what to do about Christina," Brenda had complained. "She's getting sassier and sassier. I had hoped that she'd mature once she turned 18, but she seems more childish than ever. She even called me the B word at breakfast today!"

"Well, if either of my daughters had something like that to me or Skye at that age, they wouldn't sit for a week," Sheldon replied with a frown. Skye was Sheldon's wife, who had sadly passed away a few years before.

Brenda sighed. "Discipline was always my husband's job. He knew how to get her to behave. In the years since he left…" She shook her head. "I don't think I'd feel comfortable spanking her. Could I do as good a job as he did? Besides, as big as she's getting, I'm not sure I'd win that struggle," she said with a rueful grin.

A thoughtful look passed across Sheldon's face. "You know, if you ever need any help, you could always send her over to me. I've raised two daughters who found themselves over my lap whenever they needed it, and I know how to deal with a stroppy young madam."

Brenda considered the proposal. "You know, I think that's a really good idea."

They'd broken the news to Christina later that evening. Her arguments that she was too old, and that it was too cruel, and that it would be humiliating to be spanked by a man who was not related to her, fell on deaf ears, and her claims that she was too well-behaved were treated with the derision they deserved. She finally threw a tantrum, earning her first trip over her neighbour's lap. As Christina squirmed and sobbed over Sheldon's knee, her bare bottom burning bright red as she promised to behave, Brenda grinned. Yes, this arrangement would suit her just fine.

After that, whenever the teenager would get too big for her britches, Brenda jotted down a short description of the transgression, placed it in an envelope, sealed it, and handed it over to her cringing daughter, who was forced to take it next door to face her punishment.

"What did you do this time?" Sheldon asked as he tapped the envelope against the table.

"Why don't you just read mum's note?" Christina replied sourly. "I'm sure she's explained it."

Sheldon raised an eyebrow. "Because I need to make sure that you understand what you did wrong. I suggest a little less of the attitude, missy. My guess is that you're in enough trouble as it is – though I can always add a few extras at the end if you continue to sass me."

The bank loan 2 (M/F story)

I knocked on the door and entered Lucy's office, smiling as she blushed at the sight of me. She squirmed in her chair, and I wondered if it was from nervousness, or whether it was a reflex from thinking about the spanking I gave her the week before. I knew she couldn't still be sore, but a young lady who's received a hard, well-deserved spanking will often fidget for some time even after the marks have healed. "Hello, Mister Pierce," she said quietly.

"Hello, Lucy," I said, placing my briefcase next to the vacant chair in front of her desk. "Do you have good news for me?" Last week, I'd learned that Lucy had deliberately wasted a month of my time when I applied for a loan at her bank, misfiling my paperwork on purpose, as she secretly hoped I would spank her for it. In the end, I'd given her the long, hard, bare-bottomed spanking she'd asked for – but since I was so enraged at her for wasting my time, I'd also snapped a few pictures of her sitting on her desk with her legs spread and her moist sex on display. I gave her one week to fix the mess she'd made, and if she could, I promised to use a couple of the spanking paddles I made on her. If she couldn't, however, those pictures would be sent to her boss.

As I sat down, Lucy kept glancing at the briefcase, clearly worried about what was in there.

"You'll see what I've brought soon enough, young lady," I scolded, causing her to bite her lip. "Now, do you have good news for me or not?"

Finally tearing her eyes from the briefcase, Lucy pulled out a piece of paper from her drawer and handing it to me. "Here is the bank's offer. I think it'll be to your liking," she said, trying to sound professional, though there was a hint of nervousness – and possibly arousal.

I read through the contract, which turned out to be just what I'd wanted. It was incredible what could be accomplished with the right motivation. Nodding appreciatively, I signed it. Lucy breathed a sigh of relief and gave me a nervous grin as she signed on the bank's behalf. Five long weeks after I first entered her office, Lucy had finally given me what I wanted.

Now, it was time for me to give her what she needed.

The bank loan 1 (M/F story)

The young lady behind the desk tapped on her keyboard for a minute or two, before shaking her head. "I'm sorry, Mister Pierce. I'm afraid we have no record of you filling out these forms."

I sighed, rubbing my temple. "But I handed them to you just last week! I sat here, in this room, right in front of you, filling them out, before handing them to you! You assured me that you'd take care of it!"

"Oh." She frowned. "Are you sure? I don't remember anything like that."

I felt like screaming. Dealing with the bank seemed to require a lot more patience than I possessed.

My one-man company, Pierce's Punishment Paddles, sold spanking paddles for adult play and punishment. Sales had been a lot better than I'd expected, and I wanted a small loan to expand. I'd gone to the bank, where Lucy had been assigned to handle my case. She assured me that it would be a quick and easy process.

One month later, I wondered what she'd been smoking that day. This wasn't the first time that Lucy lost my paperwork, and she'd also misunderstood or forgotten several things I'd told her. Sometimes, she still had the forms I'd filled out – she'd just forgotten to send them in. I was beginning to wonder if her name was short for "Lucifer", and she was sent here to Earth to torment me.

"I'll print the forms out for you," she said, clicking away. The printer on the other side of the room began to whirr, and she walked over to fetch the papers. As she bent over the printer, her pencil skirt tightened nicely over a lovely rear end. The sight of that beautiful backside was the only highlight of my visits to the bank. Not for the first time, I could feel my palm itch, and I longed to take her over my knee and spank her soundly for wasting my time, but I managed to resist the urge.

She handed me the forms, as well as a pen, and I began to fill them out yet again. It only took a few minutes – I had some experience at it at this point – and handed them back. She returned to her computer. "Now, I need to see your business licence."

I frowned. "I brought my business licence to you two weeks ago. You scanned it, remember?"

She looked at her screen again, then at me, then back at her screen, with a confused expression. "Are you sure?"

I sighed. "You know what? Forget it." I rose to my feet. "There are other banks in this town. I'm sure at least one of them knows how to file paperwork."

I turned to leave, but as I reached the door, she jumped to her feet. "Mister Pierce, wait!" With my hand on the doorhandle, I looked over my shoulder at her, and she continued: "I am very sorry for losing your paperwork. It was very unprofessional of me, and I can only apologise." She licked her lips. "I admit I've been careless lately, but I'm afraid I can be a bit undisciplined in my work." There was the merest ghost of a smile on her face. "I'd like to keep you as a client. Is there another way we can resolve this? I'm sure you can think of something to help me focus on my work…"

I stared at her for almost a minute, trying to process what she'd just said, before exclaiming "What the hell is wrong with you!?"

She took a step back, her face pale. "I was only –"

I turned towards her, glaring sternly. "Lucy, have you been deliberately wasting my time for the last month in the hope that I would take you over my knee and spank you?"

"Um." She squirmed, biting her lip. "No comment?"

The drunken coworker (M/F story)

Caden glanced at his watch. It was now almost three in the morning, and he had a feeling that his first party with his new coworkers was drawing to a close. They'd been at the bar until midnight, and then Beverly had suggested that they should all go back to her flat. Half a dozen of them had agreed.

Beverly was a young, petite brunette with big doe eyes and a button nose. They'd gone straight to the bar after leaving the office, so she was wearing a white long-sleeved shirt and a black pencil skirt – or at least that's what she'd been wearing the last time he looked. As she suddenly jumped up on the living room table to dance along to the music, a bottle of vodka in one hand, he noticed that the skirt seemed to have gone missing. She did not let this fact prevent her from shaking her tushy, however.

Caden glanced around to see if any of his female colleagues wanted to aid the drunk young lady, but Jessica was playing on her phone, and it sounded like Natasha was vomiting in the bathroom. Caden tried to be a gentleman and look away, but found his gaze drawn to the twerking backside, barely covered by a pair of black satin panties. Beverly had a round, full bottom that was lovely to look at.

When the song ended, Beverly slowly stepped off the table and down to the floor. She glanced around, spotted Caden, and surprised him by sitting down on his lap. "Caden! How's going?" she slurred, almost managing to look him in the eye. "Good? You good? Good! That's good."

"Are you OK?" he said, shifting uncomfortably. He was not used to having a half-naked coworker in his lap, and as she wriggled her panty-clad rear end on his groin, he could feel himself harden. He wondered if she was too drunk to notice – and whether she'd mind if she did.

"I'm gait! Geet. Greet? Great!" she said. "Haven't dunk vodka before. Good. V' good."

"I think you've had enough," he told her gently.

She looked quizzically at him, before putting the bottle to her ear and shaking it. "Nah. Not empty yet. Fix that, though." She lifted the bottle, managing to put it to her lips on the fourth attempt.

He grabbed the bottle, gently pulling it away from her. "You've had enough, Beverly," he repeated. "I think you should stop drinking now."

She looked at him, pouting. "Or what? Gonna spank me?"

He stared at her. "What?"

"Gonna spank me if keep drink'n?" she slurred.

"No! Of course not," he assured her.

"Oh." She frowned. "What if I ask nicely? Say please and tank you and all'at?"

He stared at her, not sure what to say.

"Cute guy, Caden. Thought that since met you. Big lad too." She wriggled some more, grinning as she pressed her bottom against his growing erection. "More ways than one."

Accused of shoplifting (M/F story)

In most of my stories, either the spankings are deserved, or the spankee wants them (or both). A spankee of my acquaintance wanted me to write a story where an innocent girl is humiliated and spanked. A bit of warning: this story is darker than the others I've written, and there is no retribution.

 

Natalie and some of her classmates from the college went to the mall after class one Friday afternoon. They were at a clothes store, where Natalie admired a skirt that she could almost afford, and she was now planning to find a café. As she moved through the alarm gates at the store's exit, the alarm suddenly went off. She looked around in confusion – what had set it off?

A nearby door slammed open. Out stepped a tall, strong, broad-shouldered man in the uniform of a security guard – black trousers and a blue shirt with long sleeves. A man that was this tall and strong could seem scary even with a friendly smile on his face, but when he scowled aggressively, like right now, he was truly frightening. He glared at Natalie. "Hey! Trying to sneak away, are you? Little thief!"

Before Natalie could respond, he'd grabbed her shoulder and pushed her against the wall. "Let's see if we find the stolen goods, shall we?" The guard started to frisk her, but to her horror he began by placing his hands on her breasts.

"Hey! W-what are you doing?" she gasped. She tried to squirm away, but he held her in place. It was embarrassing enough that the alarm had gone off as she exited the store – probably a technical error, she assumed – and it wasn't entirely unreasonable for him to search her, but she could see no reason for him to grope her like this. The fact that he was doing it in public made it even worse.

"Bad little girls like you almost always place the loot in your bra, because you think we won't dare to search there. But that's where you're wrong!" he responded with a sadistic grin. He continued to paw at her chest, and she didn't dare protest.

He then placed both hands on her bottom and squeezed. "Nothing in the bra, but let's see if you have anything in your back pockets." She shrank and wished she could disappear – it was so humiliating to be fondled in this manner – but she didn't have the courage to speak up to the large, aggressive man. She looked around for help and could see several of the girls from class standing nearby and staring at her. Some gave her looks of sympathy, some stared in disbelief, and some were openly giggling, but none seemed to be willing to come to her rescue.

After he'd groped her bottom for a while, a triumphant expression suddenly appeared on his face. He stuck his hand into one of the pockets, and when he pulled it out, he was holding a small pearl necklace. "What do you say to this?" he said, holding it up before Natalie.

She stared at the necklace as if she'd never seen it before – which was completely true. "T-that's not mine!" she exclaimed.

He raised an eyebrow. "So you admit to stealing it? A confession already!"

She shook her head frantically. "No, that's not what I meant! I –"

But before she could say another word, he grabbed her ear and dragged her into the back room. She howled in pain and tried to wriggle free, but that only made it hurt more, so she followed him as quickly as she could. When they were in the back room, he locked the door behind them and placed the key in a pocket. He finally let go of her, and she whimpered as she rubbed her sore ear.

She looked around in the small room. It contained a low desk with a PC and some sheets of paper on it, two chairs, and a small filing cabinet; that was all. "Sit down," he commanded, nodding to one of the chairs, and then sat down in the other and began to fill out a form.

Standing in the library (M/F story)

As Abigail gazed in wonder at the gigantic library, she had to pinch herself once again to prove to herself that she wasn't dreaming. It was all real!

Abigail had been dating Wesley for a little over a year, and today was the day she'd been introduced to his parents. She had known for some time that they had quite a lot of money, but she hadn't realized just how rich they were until Wesley's old BMW pulled up in front of the mansion. The building was enormous! And not some decrepit old ruin – it was well-maintained, richly decorated, with a lovely garden. She'd shivered in her cheap charity shop dress, wondering how exactly they'd receive her. Would they think their son was wasting his time dating someone like her?

To her immense relief, his parents had been extremely nice. They'd received her with friendly smiles and made her feel welcome. His mother had complimented her on her hair and nails, and then listened intently as Abigail talked about life at the college, and when she mentioned that she was an avid reader, his father had told her that she was free to borrow some books from their library if she wanted. As many as she wished, in fact.

Wesley and his father were chatting in the lounge over a cup of tea while Abigail went to explore the library. Her eyes widened as she entered the room. It was massive! Shelves upon shelves of books, and several of them were centuries old. She found old classics, personal favourites, rarities, and books she'd never even heard of!

She'd already picked out quite a large stack of novels she intended to take home, when she spotted a copy of "Through the Looking-Glass" high up on a shelf. She stared. It looked so old – it couldn't be an original print, could it? She looked around for the ladder, but couldn't see it. In a room this big, it was easy to get lost. Searching for another solution, she spotted an armless wooden chair, which she immediately placed under the book. However, even standing on it, her petite form was far too short to reach the novel. Stepping down, she glanced over at the large stack of books she'd already picked out, looked back up at her prize, and placed the stack on the seat of the chair. By standing on tiptoes, she just barely managed to reach the volume, tipping it into her hand. "Success!" she exclaimed.

That's when she felt the stack wobble under her feet. To her horror, she could feel it toppling.

As she started to tumble towards the floor, Abigail shrieked. The stack had been high, and she knew that landing headfirst on the hard floor was unlikely to end well. Time seemed to slow down, and she watched the shelves inch past as she fell. At the back of her mind, she wondered whether her boyfriend or his parents would find her first. She gasped as she struck something, then frowned. She'd landed on her side instead of her head, and she hadn't fallen as far as she'd been prepared for; the floor was a lot closer than she'd expected. Softer, too.

"Are you OK?" Wesley's voice was full of worry. Glancing up, she realized that he'd caught her as she fell. Nestled in his arms, she reflected on just how worried she'd been when the stack started to topple, and she buried her face in his chest, a tear rolling down her cheek. "Abigail, are you OK?"

"Thank you," she murmured from the depths of his shirt.

"I came to see how you were doing. I arrived just as the books started to shift - fortunately, I managed to get to you in time. Are you OK?" he repeated again. "Are you hurt?"

She looked up at him. "I'm fine!" she assured him. "You can put me down now."

He lowered her gently until her feet touched the floor, eventually letting go of her. "You're sure you're OK? You're not hurt in any way?" When she nodded, the worry on his face was replaced with a stern frown. "Good. Now, explain yourself, young lady. What in the world made you decide to do something like that?"

She looked at the novel in her hand. "I wanted a closer look at this," she explained.

"We have ladders for that," he said, clearly trying hard to keep his voice calm.

"Yeah, but I couldn't find one."

His frown deepened. "So instead of searching a little bit harder, or asking for help, you decided to risk life and limb by making a large pile of books, placing it on a chair, and standing on it?"

Now that he said it out loud, it suddenly didn't sound like such a good idea after all. Her backside began to tingle, and she had a horrible feeling that she was going to find herself over his knee once they were back at the flat. She managed to resist the urge to rub her rear; if he wasn't already planning to spank her, she certainly didn't want to give him ideas.

The robot assistant 2 (M/F story)

Adeline had invited her coworker Lydia for some after-work drinks one Friday evening. Lydia was her best friend in the workplace, and the pair had often hung out at bars, but it was the first time she would visit Adeline’s home. When Adeline stopped to think about it, she realized she didn’t receive a lot of visitors. She usually preferred going out if she was going to spend time with friends.

"Welcome home, Miss Beckett," Sam said as they entered. He turned and bowed to Lydia. "Welcome, visitor."

Adeline nodded towards the robot. "This is Sam, my assistant. Sam, this is Lydia from work."

"I didn't know you had a robot," Lydia exclaimed. She grinned. "Didn't know they made them tall and handsome, either. Though I suppose that didn't enter your mind when you bought him?" she said teasingly, raising an eyebrow at Adeline.

"Perish the thought," Adeline responded, trying to look innocent.

"Would you like me to prepare some food for the two of you?" Sam asked.

"No thanks, we had some pizza before we left the office. I'd like you to open a bottle of wine, though. Red, please."

"Ah. I am afraid you did not go shopping as you intended this week, so there is no red wine in the house." Sam handled most of the shopping, but robots legally could not buy alcohol or cigarettes, since the risk of children using them to bypass age restrictions was considered too high.

"Oops!" Adeline said, with her hand in front of her mouth. "I completely forgot! We'll have some white wine, then, and I'll remember to buy some tomorrow."

"Yes, you will, young lady – or I will have to take you across my lap and spank you for your forgetfulness," the robot responded, before going to fetch the wine.

Adeline paled. Her legs had turned to jelly, almost making her fall over. At her side, she heard Lydia give a shocked gasp. It took several long seconds before she dared to look over at her friend, and when she did, Lydia stared back at her, her eyebrows raised so high they disappeared into her hair.

In all the weeks she'd taught Sam how to be her stern disciplinarian, she'd completely forgotten to tell him that her punishments should be private. He'd just threatened to give her a spanking in front of her coworker. She wanted to sink through the floor and disappear completely.

"It's a joke!" she hurriedly exclaimed. "I accidentally left the TV on during some I Love Lucy reruns – it’s this show from the fifties – and ever since, Sam makes strange comments like that. I've been trying to get him to stop, but once the AI gets an idea into its head …"

"Huh," Lydia said, eyebrows still raised. Adeline had a horrible feeling that her coworker didn't believe her. "Didn't know they still broadcasts a show that old. Which channel was that?"

"I don't remember," Adeline mumbled. "One of those oldies channels."

Sam returned with a bottle of wine and two glasses, and Adeline took a large sip, trying to calm her nerves. Hopefully, Lydia would forget about the embarrassing little exchange. The last thing she wanted was for word about this to spread at the workplace.

The two women sat down on the sofa, chatting away. They had soon emptied the first bottle, so Sam brought another, as well as some snacks. They were deep in conversation when Sam suddenly appeared next to his owner. "Miss Beckett? I just found this while tidying in your office. Would you care to explain it?"

Adeline glanced up. The robot was holding a letter she'd opened the previous day – she'd forgotten to sign some papers, and had incurred a 25-pound penalty for lateness. "It's my bank," she explained. "You remember those papers I had to sign and mail back in?" She shrugged. "I didn't."

Sam frowned. "Even though I reminded you that it was due? More than once?"

At this point, she probably should have tried to tell him that she had a guest and that they would discuss it later, but she was more than a little tipsy, and there was something about his stern tone that made it so easy to slip into her submissive state of mind. "I'm sorry, Sam," she said, lowering her eyes.

He nodded. "Not as sorry as you are going to be. You have earned a good spanking, young lady."

At her side, Lydia snorted with laughter. It was clear that she found the whole thing wonderfully amusing. Adeline spun to look at her, her face pale. "It's just a joke! Sam doesn't spank me! It's just a little –"

Sam placed his hand under her chin and turned her head, forcing her to look at him. His strong touch made her insides melt. "Do not lie, young lady. I have spanked you before, and I will spank you now."

Adeline shivered. This evening was not turning out the way she had hoped. Was there anything she could do to save her dignity? "No! It's all just a silly joke, and I'm not –"

"Adeline, if you tell another lie, I will wash your mouth out with soap. Is that clear?"

Lydia was now laughing so much there were tears in her eyes, and Adeline blushed scarlet. She’d never been so humiliated in her life. "Yes, sir," she said meekly, causing Lydia to laugh even harder.

"Good." The robot sat down on the sofa, patting his lap. "Bend over my knee, Adeline."

The robot assistant (M/F story)

"Miss Beckett?" Sam's calm, even voice said, pulling Adeline from her pleasant dreams.

"Go away," she mumbled, burying her face in the pillow.

"Miss Beckett, please wake up."

Adeline shook her head to clear the fogginess of sleep, before glaring up at the robot standing at her bedside. "What?" she snapped.

"Miss Beckett, you asked me to wake you up at 8 AM sharp today, as you wanted to start your workday early." Sam looked down at her, his face impassive as usual. He looked almost human, but there was something about the artificial eyes that meant none of the robots would ever be mistaken for living beings.

Adeline grumbled to herself, continuing to glare at the robot who had woken her so early, even though deep down she knew she should blame herself. Sam, however, seemed entirely unfazed by her efforts to intimidate him.

"You will find a cup of coffee on your bedside table, and I will have breakfast ready when you are out of the shower. Will there be anything else?"

"…No," she eventually replied. Sam bowed and left.

Humanoid robot assistants had become quite the rage these last few years, and most of Adeline's coworkers had bought one. She'd noticed that her male colleagues tended to select robots that looked and sounded like young, attractive women with large chests and bubble butts, which made her roll her eyes. Was that all men thought about? Of course, Adeline had settled on a tall, handsome man with a chiselled jaw, deep blue eyes, and a sixpack, but that was of course entirely different and much more excusable, according to her.

As she stepped out of the shower, towelling herself off, she found that Sam had laid out clothes for her – a few different options, all of which suited her. She settled on the pink shirt and the dark skirt. She was still brushing her hair when she entered the kitchen, where Sam had just finished her toast and eggs.

As she ate, Sam sat down next to her in case she needed anything else. Obviously, the robot did not need to eat, but she preferred him to be at the table with her rather than standing over her shoulder like a servant. It made the whole thing less weird.

"You know, I shouldn't have snapped at you this morning. You were only doing what I had asked you to do."

"That is fine," Sam said calmly. "I do not have feelings you can hurt."

"No, it's not fine," Adeline insisted. "It was rude of me to speak to you like that. I was very naughty." She pouted, trying to assume her most remorseful expression. "Can you think of any way to punish me for my bad behaviour?"

According to the manual, robot assistants should only be used for household chores and similar tasks, but it was common knowledge that you could train their AI do to just about anything, as long as you had the patience for it. With a handsome man in the house, Adeline had wondered if it was possible to teach him to be dominant – to take charge, to tell her what to do, to correct her when she erred. It was proving to be harder than she'd hoped, but she was getting closer with every passing week.

Sam paused, his artificial mind trying to predict her needs. "Perhaps I should take you over my knee and spank you once you have finished your breakfast," he decided.

She nodded. "That sounds like a good idea, Sam." It would be far from the first time he spanked her, and he was getting better at it. And it was always more enjoyable to her when it seemed like it was his idea, rather than her having to specifically ask for it.

As she finished the last bite of the toast, she pressed her skirt-clad rear down into the wooden chair, imagining the smacks that would soon rain down upon her bottom. Hopefully, the next time she found herself in this chair, she would be sitting a lot more gingerly.

Sam picked up the empty plate and glass and rinsed them in the sink, before placing them in the dishwasher. He then walked over to her and grabbed her wrist. She made no attempt to resist as he dragged her to her feet, sat down in the vacant chair, and pulled her over his lap.

She bit her lip in anticipation as she found herself bent over his knee, her bottom raised and presented for his attention. He grabbed the hem of her dark skirt, raising it to reveal her bare, pale cheeks.

"Oops," she said, putting her hand in front of her mouth with an exaggerated shocked expression. "I guess I forgot to put on panties after my shower!" She wriggled her bottom in what she hoped was an enticing manner – though it was obviously entirely lost on the robot. Still, it made her feel sexy.

"That is not a problem," the robot's tranquil voice responded. "I will just spank your bare bottom." She would have preferred him to say something like 'You brat! I will spank you extra hard for that,' but hopefully, that would come with time. At least he'd stopped offering to fetch a clean pair for her.

His hand gently rubbed in circles on her white backside. "You have been a naughty girl, and you deserve a good spanking," he intoned.

She shivered in pleasant anticipation. "Yes, sir. I'm sorry, sir."

"Not yet, but you will be soon, I assure you," he said ominously, to her great delight.

The Nerd and the Bully (f/f, M/f story)

As I was sitting at my desk grading papers one Friday afternoon, someone knocked on the open door of my office, and a timid voice said "Mister Rackham?"

I looked up from my work to see Nicole, one of my favourite students, standing in the doorway looking at me. Nicole was a lanky girl of 18 with long, brown, curly hair, and large, green eyes. She was biting a fingernail nervously, and looked very uncomfortable. There was something about her manner that suggested she might be in trouble, which surprised me; Nicole was a hard-working student who always had good grades and never broke the rules. "Hello, Nicole. What can I do for you?"

"Can I talk to you about something?"

"Of course!"

She closed the door behind her. I offered her a chair, but she declined it with a grimace. "I don't want to sit down right now." Before I could ask what she meant, she sighed. "Beatrice has been bullying me."

Beatrice was one of the goths – a surly, dark-clad, dark-haired girl who treated homework like suggestions, though she usually kept quiet and didn't disturb the rest of the class. She'd never been the friendliest girl, but she mostly wanted to be left alone, and I'd never heard of her being a bully. I couldn't imagine that Nicole was lying, though.

My confusion must have been apparent on my face, for Nicole glanced outside the door to make sure we were alone, and then suddenly turned her back to me, flipped up her skirt, and lowered her panties. "Look at this, sir!"

Once I got over the surprise of having one of my favourite students suddenly mooning me, I could see that her bottom was bright red, covered in handprints. Someone had clearly given her a good spanking. "And that is Beatrice's handiwork?" I asked.

Nicole nodded, before slipping her panties back on and lowering her skirt. "She came to my room and ordered me to write her assignment for her. When I refused, she dragged me over her knee, pulled my panties down, and –" she sniffled. "Spanked me!"

I quickly offered her a paper tissue, which she gratefully accepted and began to dab her eyes. I also wanted to offer her a comforting hug, but it was not considered acceptable for teachers to hug students.

She told me the rest of her story, and I promised to deal with her bully. As Nicole left my office, there was a relieved smile on her face, though she was also rubbing the seat of her skirt with one hand.

Deciding to handle the matter immediately, I stopped one of the students walking past, asking if she could tell Beatrice to report to my office immediately. Ten minutes later, the short, stocky goth girl knocked on my door. "You wanted to see me?" Unlike most of the students, Beatrice never called me 'sir' or used my last name. I offered her the chair, and she sat down.

"I've heard reports that you've been bullying others. Someone walked past and heard you give one of your fellow students a spanking." This wasn't true, of course, but I wanted to give her the impression that someone other than Nicole had reported her, to reduce the chance of her retaliating against her victim.

Beatrice only glared at me, as if she hoped to scowl me into submission. This was obviously futile.

"Is this true?" I asked. Though I couldn't imagine that Nicole was lying – and I'd already seen her marks – I wanted to give Beatrice a chance to defend herself. I couldn't imagine what she'd say, but I was willing to listen.

Beatrice only shrugged.

"You think it's funny to beat your classmates?"

"It was only a spanking," she muttered.

"Well, we'll see whether you think it's 'only' a spanking once I'm done. Stand up." With a sulk on her face, Beatrice obeyed. My hands went to the front of her dark denim cutoff shorts, and I unbuttoned and unzipped them, before lowering them to her knees, revealing a black thong. I pulled the girl over my lap, and her thong soon joined her shorts around her knees. My hand smacked firmly down on her pale cheeks, and the girl grunted as I began to spank her.

My hand moved swiftly from cheek to cheek, and I spanked hard and fast. The girl bit her lip, doing her best to convince me that it didn't hurt at all, but I wasn't fooled. I knew my hand would last a lot longer than her bottom, and as I continued to thrash her, I was soon proven correct.

My hard hand slammed down on her soft skin. She began to squirm over my lap, and she could no longer hold back the tears. Her bottom was as red as Nicole's had been, but I kept going – I wanted to make sure this never happened again.

"I'm sorry, sir! I'll be good!" she finally pleaded. I smiled; it was the first time I could remember Beatrice calling me 'sir'. I gave her a few more smacks, just to make sure she had learned her lesson, then ended her punishment.

I helped the girl to her feet, where she gingerly rubbed her bare bottom. I offered her a tissue, and once again wanted to roll my eyes at regulations that allowed me to bare a girl's bottom and spank her, but not to give her a hug and comfort her.

Beatrice soon pulled her panties and shorts back up, leaving my office with a promise to behave from now on. I smiled, confident that the matter was solved.


A week later, Nicole was back in my office, telling me that Beatrice had spanked her again.