Prefects (M/F story)

Between classes, I was patrolling the school's more secluded areas, checking to see whether there were pupils smoking, drinking, or committing other mischief. Behind the bike shed, I was surprised to see my classmate Kimberly leaning against the wall, a book in her hands. Like me, Kimberly was a prefect; she was a lanky girl with deep, dark eyes, and long, dark hair that she often kept in pigtails. Some of the teachers said she looked like an angel, and she usually had the behaviour to match.

She seemed lost to the world, and there was a slight tinge to her cheeks as she stared wide-eyed at the in the old book she was reading. I wondered what it was that could absorb her like that. She was so engrossed, she didn't notice me approaching until I was right next to her. Her head shot up, and a squeal escaped her lips. "Oh! William! H-how nice to see you," she said, trying in vain to seem calm as she hid the book behind her back.

I wondered what on Earth Little Miss Manners could be reading that would embarrass her so much, and whether it was something that was not permitted on school grounds – which would surprise me from someone like her. Curiosity overcame me, so I reached around her and grabbed the book from her hand. She made no attempt to stop me, but she seemed deeply uncomfortable.

When I looked at it, it turned out to be nothing that was against school regulations; in fact, it WAS the school regulations. One of the prefects was hiding behind the bike shed, secretly reading the rules. What was going on?

Absently, I noted that there was a bookmark in the section about corporal punishment. I raised an eyebrow as I handed it back to her. "Brushing up on the school rules? Don't worry, I can't imagine you've broken any," I said, smiling.

She grabbed the book, clutching it as if afraid I'd snatch it away from her again. Tucking it away in her bag, she turned as if she wanted to leave, but she suddenly changed her mind. "Did you know prefects at this school are authorized to sp – " She paused, blushing. "To sp – To employ corporal punishment?"

"To spank?" I said, guessing the word that had she seemed to have some trouble speaking out loud, for some reason. "Yes, that was on the rulebooks in the seventies and eighties, wasn't it? The rules were changed in the nineties, I think."

She shook her head. "No. It fell out of favour, but it's still on the books. The rules never changed."

"Huh. That's an interesting piece of trivia. Might be good for a quiz or something, that," I said, smiling gently.

She bit her lip, somewhat annoyed with how lightly I took this revelation. "But you could sp… spank people if they misbehave!" she announced, finally overcoming her difficulties with the scary word.

I shrugged. "Maybe that was acceptable in the seventies, but I cannot imagine it would fly today. Do you?"

She stared at the ground, seeming lost in thought, before suddenly meeting my gaze. "Have you ever been spanked?" she asked, once again taking me by surprise. When I shook my head, she continued, "Me neither. But have you never been curious? Or have you ever wanted to spank someone else?"

"… I can't say I've thought much about the subject," I said, wondering why in the world we were discussing this.

She regarded me thoughtfully, seeming to size me up. Finally, she came to a decision. Taking a deep breath, she said in a quiet, slightly trembling voice: "Would you spank me if I deserved it?"

The prankster (M/F story)

With one eye glancing at the morning paper, Darren stirred his teacup, placed it to his lips, and took a small sip. Suddenly, he grimaced, spitting it back into the cup before glaring at his girlfriend. "Really, Christie? Salt in the sugar bowl again? Aren't you far too old for those childish pranks?"

"Why, Darren, whatever do you mean?" the petite redhead said, batting her eyelashes and trying to look innocent. "I haven't done anything!"

"Oh, so the salt just climbed into the bowl all on its own?" he said, pouring the ruined tea into the sink and making himself a new cup. "Well, if any more salt should find itself in the sugar bowl, or any similar antics, a certain mischievous little prankster is going to find herself over my knee, having her bottom smacked. Is that clear?"

Christie started at the unexpected warning, blushing as she tried to return her boyfriend's glare. This was a new side to her gentle giant; he had never said anything like this to her before. "You're not funny," she muttered.

"Neither are you. The difference is, I'm not trying to be," he told her firmly. "I'm not joking. If you're going to act like a child, I'm going to treat you like one. And that means giving you what you deserve – a good, hard spanking."

She folded her arms in front of her chest, scoffing at his absurd threat. "You wouldn't dare."

He leaned in close, with a stern look on his face that caused her to avert her eyes and made her heart beat rapidly. "Try me and see what happens," he suggested in a cold tone.

Christie had butterflies in her stomach, and there was an unexpected tingling between her legs that told her that she should, in fact, try him and see what he would do. Part of her wanted to see more of this sterner, scarier Darren.

Wrist healed

 The good news: my wrist is healed, so I can type again.

The bad news: There's been little time to write during the Christmas season, and I've already blown through my buffer.

There will be no update this weekend, but I'm planning to spend some of my Christmas vacation writing and editing, so everything should be back to normal in the new year.

Hiatus

 I've recently had wrist surgery, which makes it hard to type. This blog is going on hiatus for a few weeks.

Linda at the nightclub (M/ff story)

Linda and Janet grinned to each other as they mingled on the dance floor. It was a lovely summer evening, and the pair were at the nightclub to drink, party, and flirt with boys. Two short, skinny, cute women with bubble butts and tiny skirts were always a popular sight. Blonde Linda placed an arm over her redhaired friend's shoulder. "Your glass is empty. Need a new one?" Janet nodded.

They were walking back to the bar, where Janet hoped she could flirt her way to another drink from one of the young men sitting there, when Linda suddenly stopped, a nervous expression spreading across her face. In front of her stood Lance, an occasional disciplinarian of hers, and he looked far from happy. The powerfully built man in his thirties was slightly less than six foot high, but when he approached them and scowled down at Linda, he towered over the little woman so that she looked like a small child. "What are you two doing here?" he asked with a voice that made both of the girls shiver. "The age limit here is twenty, last time I checked, and you're both nineteen."

"I'm dancing," Linda responded, scowling back at him. She was having fun, and she had no intention of listening to anyone asking her to behave.

"That's not what I meant, and you know that very well, little miss," he said, his voice somehow even sterner. "How did you get in?"

"I flirted with the bouncer, and he let us pass," she explained, grinning. "But what's so wrong about dancing a little?"

"What are you drinking?"

She tried to hide her glass by holding it behind her back, even though she knew it was far too late. "Soda," she responded while avoiding his gaze – Lance was a little TOO good at picking up when she was lying.

He grabbed her arm and forced her to hand him the drink. He lifted it up and sniffed the contents. The look he gave her made her bottom tingle unpleasantly. "You're also too young to be drinking spirits, Linda. That means this place can lose their liquor licence if anyone discovers it. Do you want the nightclub to close just because you can't wait for your next birthday?" Janet didn't even try to resist when he grabbed her glass as well. Even though it was empty, he could smell clearly what had been in it. "You as well?" he said, scowling at her. "You two are coming with me, and we will discuss this somewhere more private."

Linda folded her arms in front of her chest and poked her tongue up at him. "We don't want to. Me and Janet are going to continue partying."

"I wasn't asking," Lance responded calmly. With little effort, he picked her up and placed her over his shoulder. He glanced over at Janet, who took a step forward as if to show that she was a good girl and would come along without needing to be carried.

With one girl squirming on his shoulder and the other obediently following him, Lance started to move away from the crowd. Linda blushed so much she was struggling to breathe – to be scolded like a little girl in the middle of the club was bad enough, but to be placed over his shoulder and carried away like a sack of potatoes? How embarrassing! She struck her fists against his back to make him put her down, but he responded by smacking her butt with his palm, so she quickly stopped. To be carried was embarrassing, but to be slapped on the butt while everyone was watching was even worse, and she also didn't want to make him any angrier than he already was. In addition, his smacks were quite painful.

Linda's essay (M/ff story)

"I must say I was impressed by the essay you handed in on Monday, Linda," Hannah said with a big smile on her face. "Well-written, with effective arguments, and a good length. Without a doubt the best essay I’ve seen in some time!"

The nineteen-year-old grinned back at her teacher, pleased with being praised. She was far from being the best student in class, so it didn't happen often.

"In fact, I thought it was so good I had to show it to May, who's the teacher of 2D. You know, the class your friend Janet goes to?" Hannah drummed her fingers on the desk.

Linda's smile faded a little. Her heart was beating rapidly in her chest, but she did her best to look innocent.

"And you know what's strange? May had just read the same essay." Hannah folded her arms in front of her chest, raising an eyebrow. "So how is it that you and Janet handed in the same essay? Care to explain that, Linda?"

Linda shrugged. "We're quite similar, after all… so it was probably a coincidence?" she said, still wearing her most innocent expression. There was no reason not to try to bluff her way out of this, was there?

The smile that Hannah sent her student was completely devoid of her customary warmth and kindness. "Really? You should explain that to the principal. He's waiting for you in his office, and seemed very interested in hearing what you have to say."

Her classmates giggled as Linda rose with a blush on her face. Hannah did nothing to stop them, since she felt Linda deserved to hear their laughter.

As Linda walked towards the principal's office, she met Janet, who had clearly been sent there for the same reason. "You too?" Janet said quietly when she saw her friend. It was clear that she was nervous for what was about to happen; Janet never got into trouble.

"Your essay was too good," Linda said sharply as they walked down the hallway. "If it had been a little more average, they wouldn't have shown it to each other." Janet lowered her head, and Linda knew she shouldn't have said it – she was just being cruel to try to cover her own nervousness. But she still wasn't going to apologise.

Principal Rockall was a large, powerfully built and fairly scary-looking man known for maintaining strict discipline. Sitting behind his desk, he watched the two girls with a dark expression on his face, but Linda was more worried about the large wooden paddle he was holding, tapping it against his left palm. It looked very painful, and Linda didn't like the sound it made. She had a feeling she'd like the paddle even less in a few minutes.

The principal had listened to their explanation, and was not convinced. "I cannot believe you have been cheating on an essay. Two grown girls like you, supposedly adults, sneaking around like little children." He shook his head. "Do you know the punishment for cheating at this school?" Both girls nodded gloomily, but he chose to tell them anyway. "A good spanking on your bare bottoms." He placed the paddle down, pushed the chair away from his desk, and scowled at Janet. "You're the youngest, so we'll deal with you first. Come here!"

Janet approached him nervously, and stood before him like he had ordered. The principal started to unbutton her jeans, before determinedly pulling them down to her knees. He then grabbed the waistband of her underwear, and her cute, pink little panties were also lowered. Janet blushed, ashamed of being undressed like this, and the tears rolled down her face before he'd even started to spank her.

Principal Rockall picked up the half-naked woman as if she was a small child and placed her over his lap. She made no attempts to resist, and lowered her head in despair when he began to rub her naked, quivering bottom. "I hope this teaches you honesty," Rockall declared while lifting his hand over his head.

The ghost girl 2 (M/FF story)

It was my second day in the sleepy little Polish town whose name I could neither remember nor spell. The night before, I had taken a shortcut through the town's ancient graveyard, where I had encountered the ghost of a beautiful young woman. The maiden, whose name was Krystyna, told me that she still felt guilty about her disobedience to her parents in life, preventing her from reaching her eternal rest. To my surprise, she asked me to quieten her conscience by taking her over my knee and spanking her. I obliged, giving her the long, hard, bare-bottomed spanking she told me she needed.

After the spanking, the girl turned to mist in the middle of a wonderful kiss, and I stumbled into the nearest bar, where I learned from the woman working there that I wasn't the first young man to see the spirit – nor the first to place her over my lap. In fact, it had happened quite often; despite what she had said, it was for her enjoyment, nor her salvation. The bartender suggested that I should visit the spirit again the next night to punish her for deceiving me, and I readily agreed with the suggestion.

In the evening, I returned to the lovely little bar, which was just as quiet as the night before. The young woman behind the counter was not the one I’d met the night before. "Hello. Is –" I was about to ask where she was, when I realized I hadn't actually asked for her name.

The bartender smiled, calling out over her shoulder. "Teresa!" This was followed by a string of Polish that I assumed, based on no evidence whatsoever, meant something like "That guy you mentioned is here!" What luck – now I had her name!

The young, dark-haired woman from last night emerged from the back. "There you are! You are going to face the ghost again, yes?"

I nodded. "You said you were going to lend me something?"

With a smile, she placed her hand in her pocket, pulling out a large, old wooden hairbrush. "I think this will be very effective," she said. There was a strange gleam in her eye as she handed it to me. "This hairbrush can really sting a young woman's bare bottom."

I looked at it, tapping it against my palm. "Thank you. I believe it will." I glanced at my watch. "Almost midnight. Do you think she'll be there?"

Teresa nodded. "She often shows up around this time.” She placed her hand on my arm. “Do not forget to return here afterwards so you can tell your story – and give me the hairbrush."

"Don't worry, I'll return it," I promised, before heading out.

The graveyard was not far away. I entered, but as I started walking around, glancing at the tombs and looking for the mischievous spirit, I was almost certain I heard footstep behind me. Was it the sounds of the ghost I was looking for? Another phantom entirely? Something else? Or just my imagination? I tried to stare into the night, but saw nothing.

It was a chill night, and I wrapped my coat tighter around me. The moon was up, so it was not completely dark, but trying to find a ghost the colour of marble among the statues was not an easy task. I glanced at my watch again. I had been out here for forty minutes and hadn't seen a sign of her. "Krystyna! Where are you?" I called out in frustration.

"You are looking for me?" I heard a teasing whisper in my ear. I spun around to find the girl behind me, grinning. "Adam! How nice to see you again!"

"What happened to your eternal rest?" I commented drily.

She shrugged. "Eventually, maybe. For now, I live – in a manner of speaking, of course."

"You didn't ask me to spank you to quieten your conscience! You enjoyed it, didn't you?"

She nodded. "Of course – and so did you! Do not think me so innocent that I do not know what poked me in the belly when I was over your lap." She grinned impishly. Noticing my expression, she sighed. "Adam, why are you being angry? I was happy, you were happy – why so unhappy now?"

"You lied to me!" I told her. "You deliberately misled me."

"Yes, I did," she said, grinning even wider and clapping her hands. "Oh, what fun!"

"Well, I think you need to be disciplined for your deception," I said, pulling out the brush and tapping it against my palm.

Krystyna gasped, both hands in front of her mouth, before smiling blissfully. "Oh, Adam! For me? How lovely!"

Could you take it? (M/F story)

I was supposed to publish the sequel to last week's story today, but due to being busier than usual, I haven't had time to write it. Instead, I've taken one from my buffer, and will finish the other story in time before next weekend.

“I’m glad you could come, Laura,” Charles said, waving the teacher into his office. There was something about the principal's tall, slim form, his hook-nose, and his thin mouth that gave the suggestion of cruelty, but this was more than made up for by his kind eyes. His dark hair had begun to turn grey at the temples, and he was always impeccably dressed, a sign of his belief in being a good role model for his students and staff.

Laura was almost as tall as her boss, had long, curly red hair, and the dimples suggested that she laughed loud and often, which was true. She had never even attempted to match his dress sense, preferring a more casual look. She gave Charles a bright smile as she entered. “I always have time for the principal. You know that.” She sat down in the chair in front of his desk. “What was it you wanted?”

Returning to his seat, Charles looked thoughtfully at his newest employee. wondering how to begin. “You’ve sent a lot of students here to be paddled in the months you’ve been here.”

She nodded. “I do not tolerate disrespect, and it’s important to establish your authority when you’re new. These girls are always trying to get you to lose control.”

“I understand that, but I think you’re relying too much on the threat of the paddle in order to secure your legitimacy," he said, opening the discipline journal and giving it a quick glance. “What was it – three this week? How many last week? Looking at it, I’m not sure there’s a single girl in your class who hasn’t been sent to my office at least once during the autumn.” He closed the journal. “I’m not saying you shouldn’t get them to respect you – these teenagers can be very ill-behaved and are always trying to push you – but I think you need some other ways to achieve it, and some alternative punishments when needed.”

“Like writing lines and sending them to the corner? Please, Charles. They just roll their eyes at that stuff. They don’t roll their eyes at a paddling – at least not afterwards,” she said with a grin. “It’s quick, harmless, and effective.” She shrugged. “I’d prefer to paddle them myself – it would be a good lesson for their classmates – but since that’s not an option…”

Charles looked thoughtfully at her. “Laura, were you ever paddled in school? Or at home?”

Laura shook her head. “My parents didn’t believe in it, and it wasn’t allowed at my school.”

“I thought not. If you had, you probably wouldn’t treat it so lightly. It might not be a big deal for you, but it is for them, I can assure you.”

She scoffed. “What, a few pops of the board on their panties? Oh, please. There’s no permanent damage – just a brief sting. You don’t think I could have taken ten swats without crying when I was eighteen?”

He raised an eyebrow. “I don’t think you could do that NOW, never mind when you were a hormonal teenager.”

“Of course I could,” she insisted.

“Laura, you’re talking with great confidence about something of which you have no experience whatsoever – which is exactly my point.”

She grinned. “Then I have a bet for you. My suggestion: I take ten swats of the board, just like one of the misbehaving girls here. If I can do it without sobbing, you’ll let me use the paddle in the classroom whenever and however I wish.”

The ghost girl (M/F story)

It was a chilly night in October. I had been traveling by train through Central Europe, and earlier that day, I had stopped in a small Polish town that I'd already forgotten the name of. I was heading back to the hotel after a long day exploring the sights, and I decided to take a shortcut through the town's graveyard.

To my surprise, I found myself somewhat on edge as I walked through the graveyard under the light of the full moon. I had never considered myself a superstitious man, but there was still something unsettling about the statues and tombs around me. Compared to the simple, unadorned cemeteries back home, it looked like the setting of a horror movie. I spotted one particularly life-like marble sculpture of a crying girl, which was so realistic that I almost imagined that I could hear her weeping.

Suddenly, I realized that I COULD, in fact, hear weeping. Then, the statue moved.

It was a young woman, about twenty years old or so. No woman alive could have skin that pale, and when she looked in my direction, her sorrowful gaze revealed eyes from beyond the grave. There was no doubt that I was looking at a ghost.

My eyes widened. This couldn't be happening, could it? I was face to face with the living dead. The hair on my arms stood up, and I shivered, but the girl did not seem inclined to attack me. If anything, she almost seemed scared of me.

Taking a deep breath to calm my nerves, I did the only thing I could think of: I held out my hand to the grieving girl. "Hi, I'm Adam. Are you OK?"

The girl stared at me. A smile briefly graced her lips, before she reached out to shake my hand. Her touch was like a cold breeze. "I'm Krystyna," she said, her voice a strangely echoing whisper. I found her soft accent curiously alluring. "You are the first man I can remember who does not run away at the sight of me."

"I don't make a habit of running away from pretty ladies," I told her, earning me another smile. "Is everything alright?" I asked. Stupid question, I guess – she was dead!

"I… I cannot rest," she admitted, staring mournfully out across the cemetery. "I was foolish in life, and I still pay for it in death."

"Foolish how?"

She stared at the ground at her feet. "I never listened to my parents. Always thought I knew better than them. Never took their advice." Her eyes moistened again, and she blinked rapidly to clear them. "They told me not to go to the party when there was a storm coming, and I went. They told me to at least wear a jacket, and I did not." There was a pause, before she managed to continue. "That night, tired and cold, with a bottle of liquor in my hand, I passed away on the cold ground."

She shivered at the memory, and I instinctively took my jacket off and placed it over her shoulders. That seemed to wake her from her daze, and she grinned as she handed it back.

"Clothing does not warm the dead," she pointed out. "But thank you. You are a good man."

"Is there anything I can do to help?"

She seemed thoughtful. "I was never sufficiently punished for my disobedience – for my foolishness. I was sometimes bent over the knee for my mother's spoon or my father's belt, but not often enough. If I was, I would not have behaved like that. And I was never punished for my final misbehaviour." Her eyes brimmed with tears again.

"You froze to death," I pointed out. "Sounds like you've been punished more than enough."

She shook her head. "No. That is not the same as loving discipline – that was just cold and careless consequences. I need to be taken in hand, to be corrected and cared for." She looked at me, examining me for a few seconds before making her decision. "Adam, will you take me over your knee and spank me?"

The haunted graveyard (M/F story)

Nicki did her best to hide her trembling as she entered the old, overgrown graveyard. She did not think anyone was watching her, but if any of her classmates were hiding in the bushes, they'd see a brave woman going off to laugh in the face of fear.

The cemetery in the woods near the college had a lot of stories attached to it. Some of the students liked to hang out there for short, private make-out sessions between classes, or heavier activities after the end of the school day. But even the darkest of the goths cleared out before midnight – there were rumours that the place was haunted.

Well, Nicki did not believe those rumours, and she'd done little to hide her disdain for the people who spread them. Finally, some of her classmates had challenged her: if she could spend the night in the graveyard, she would not have to buy another drink for the rest of the semester. If she got scared and ran away, she would have to pay for the girls' rounds for the next month. Nicki had accepted the offer without hesitation.

Of course, it's easy to scoff at ghost stories when you're standing in a bright college hallway in the middle of the day. When you're wandering around an ancient, isolated graveyard shortly before midnight, it's a lot harder. And even if there weren't any ghosts, there could be wild animals in places like these – or maybe even more human dangers. A college girl alone at night could be viewed as easy prey, and she began to wonder if she'd rather encounter a bear…

She started at something that might have been the sound of a twig snapping. Was there something out there?

She shook her head, doing her best to dislodge those thoughts. That kind of speculation would only worry her unnecessarily, and she would prefer to focus on all those beers the other girls would be buying for her.

She sat down on the ground, resting her back against a tombstone that was too old and worn to read, and took the book out of the pocket. It was a collection of Poe stories, which she'd decided seemed appropriate in the circumstances. If she was going to spend the night here, she didn't want to be bored. She'd brought a lantern to read by – it was easier than holding a flashlight, and also more fitting.

As she started to read, she glanced at her watch, noticing that midnight had arrived. "Well, then, ghosts. Do your worst!" she declared boldly into the night.

"As you wish," a chilling voice whispered in her ear.

Halloween in the cemetery (M/F story)

It was Halloween, midnight was only half an hour away, and Zoe was wandering around in the town's old graveyard. Goosebumps rose on her arm as she glanced at the nearby tombstones. Just a few more minutes, and the most magical time of the most magical night of the year would be here. She could wander around in this spooky atmosphere for –

A hand landed on her shoulder, and she screeched in terror. Oh no! The monsters had got her!

She spun around, breathing a sigh of relief when she saw it was just her boyfriend Thomas.

"Are you really still here, Zoe?" Thomas sounded tired. She nodded eagerly. "What exactly is it you hope will happen?"

"I'll catch a glimpse of some ghastly ghosts and ghoulies," she whispered breathlessly. "And goblins! And… other things beginning with G, probably."

He raised an eyebrow. "You're twenty-three. Aren't you too old for this sort of thing?"

"I'll never be too old for ghoulies," she said, pouting, before folding her arms in front of her chest and glaring at him. Why did he always try to ruin her fun with things like logic?

"Well, I don't want you out here all night. You have classes tomorrow, remember?"

"I'll skip them," she said breezily.

"Oh really?" he said with a stern look that made her backside tingle unpleasantly.

"Eh… I mean… " Zoe quickly backtracked. When Thomas had that expression on his face, it usually meant she would end up with a sore bottom unless she treaded carefully. "I'll DEFINITELY go to my classes tomorrow. I won't up be THAT late." She could tell that he was wavering, and quickly pressed her advantage. "Come on, Thomas. It's only Halloween once a year, right?"

He thought about it. "Well. We can stay here half an hour, but we go home at midnight. You need to go to bed soon, or you'll fall asleep in class again."

She pouted. "But midnight is when it all begins! We have to stay here at least until one o'clock – the full midnight hour!"

"We leave at midnight," he repeated, once again using his stern voice. "This is not up for discussion, Zoe."

"As you wish," she said sweetly, smiling at him. She was sure that once midnight arrived, he'd see her point of view. It would be cruel to take her home just when the magic begun, wouldn't it?