The mature student (f/F story)

It was only two months since the start of the semester, and I could already tell that I was falling behind. Back when I was a teenager, I had flunked a few classes and never finished college, and now, after two and a half decades in the workforce, I had decided to return and finish my degree.

I had hoped that the decades of work experience would mean that college was a lot easier this time around, but that proved to be optimistic. I found it hard to focus in class, and it took more and more time to complete my assignments. Some of the other girls had formed a study group, but since I was old enough to be their mother, it felt a little embarrassing to ask if I could join them.

One evening, I was returning to the dorm after a trip to the pub, when I walked past the room of one of my classmates – a petite blonde by the name of Sheila Page. She was standing in the open doorway of her room, and Josephine, a lanky redhead, was giving her a hug. Neither of them appeared to have noticed my presence. "Thank you so much for your help, Sheila!" Josephine gushed.

"Anytime, Josephine," Sheila replied. "My door is always open!" She folded her arms in front of her chest, grinning. "And I suspect you won't be late to class again?"

Josephine pouted and gingerly rubbed the seat of her jeans. "Don't worry, I'll be on time – though for a few days, I'll probably have to stand up for the entire lecture!"

"Oh, don't be so dramatic," Sheila giggled. "There's no lasting damage, just a well-deserved sore seat. You'll sit down in a few hours – though you probably won't enjoy it much."

I stared wide-eyed at the two girls. What the hell was going on?

Josephine left, still rubbing her bottom, and Sheila finally spotted me. "Oh! You're Jacqueline, aren't you? We're classmates, right? Good evening!"

"What was that about?" I asked, staring at her.

"What do you mean?" Sheila replied, a confused expression on her face.

"Why did Josephine just leave your dorm room while rubbing her backside?"

"Oh, that. I've just spanked her," Sheila responded matter-of-factly.

I stared incredulously at her. "Are you being serious right now?"

"Entirely serious," she replied calmly. "Some of the girls are away from home for the very first time, and the total freedom and lack of consequences can have a detrimental effect on their mental health. Back home, misbehaviour earned them a trip over the parental lap, but here, there are no immediate repercussions. Some girls find that destabilizing, and they have a hard time focusing on their studies."

"So you SPANK them?" I couldn't believe what I was hearing!

"It's a service I provide to those that need or want it. People have told me I'm mature for my age, and they find it easy to rely on me."

That part, I could believe. When I first met Sheila, she seemed so grown-up that I assumed she was one of those twenty-somethings with a baby face who looked much younger than they were. It was a surprise to learn that she actually was the eighteen-year-old girl she looked like.

"So, you just drag them over your lap and whack away?"

She frowned. "I always ask them to bend over voluntarily – it shows that they know they deserve the punishment. Then I smack them long and hard with my hand. For serious offences, I reinforce the lesson with a good spanking with the back of my hairbrush. Then, I send them to the corner to reflect on their behaviour, before they get a hug and forgiveness." She shrugged. "It's simple, and it works."

The thought of these girls voluntarily seeking out a spanking from Sheila struck me as daft, but I decided not to tell her that.

"Going out for an evening walk?" she asked, looking at my jacket. "It's a lovely night, I believe."

"No, I'm returning to my room. I was at the pub," I explained.

She looked puzzled. "I thought you had an assignment that was due in the morning."

"I do," I confirmed.

"Oh, you finished it before you left?"

"No, not yet," I said quietly, suddenly feeling a little nervous for some reason I couldn't explain.

"I see," she responded, raising an eyebrow. She didn't SAY that she disapproved, but her expression certainly did.

Unfinished story: Consequences of shoplifting (M/f story)

 Like last week, I have a story that's not quite finished yet, but still worth reading. I'll finish it in January.

I was out for a long evening walk, enjoying the cool air after a hot summer day, when I walked past a small corner store and heard raised voices and a woman who sounded close to tears. Curiosity overcame me, and I went inside to see what was going on.

The teenaged girl standing in the centre of the room stared at me. "Eric!" she shouted in relief. She rushed towards me and threw her arms around my neck, tears in her eyes.

"Breanna? What's wrong?" I said. Breanna was a slim girl of 18 with long, blonde hair and large, blue eyes.

A tall, balding, middle-aged man approached me, with a stout, red-headed woman of about the same age following two steps behind him. "You know this girl?" he asked me.

"Yes, I'm a friend of Breanna," I replied. It would be more correct to say she was my younger sister's best friend, but I figured they weren't too interested in the details. I glanced down at Breanna, but she'd buried her face in my shirt, sniffling. "What's wrong?" I said to the man.

"The little missy was shoplifting!" the woman responded. "She took two bottles of wine and hid them in her backpack when she thought we weren't looking – and dropped one of them when we caught her."

I glanced down at the whimpering girl. "Breanna, is this true?" She didn't answer at first, so I gently rubbed her back and repeated the question. She nodded, giving me a tearful gaze.

"I was at the pub with the girls, and when I left, I wanted a couple of bottles to take home." Her lower lip trembled. "I didn't have enough, so I thought…"

"You thought you'd steal them instead." I shook my head. "I expected better of you, Breanna:" I guess my tone was slightly harsher than I intended, for the tears immediately started flowing again, and she buried her face in my shirt again and sobbed.

"Hello! What's going on here, then?" A police officer entered the store. She was a dark-haired athletic woman who appeared to be in her late thirties, and introducing herself as Officer Kaye. The couple, who turned out to be the store owner and his wife, Mr and Mrs Brockham, explained the situation, while I continued to comfort the slightly intoxicated teenager.

The police officer placed a gentle, but firm, hand on Breanna's shoulder. "Right. Come with me, young lady," she said. When Breanna didn't respond, the officer tried to disentangle the teen's arms from around my neck, but it proved to be more difficult than we supposed. She held on for dear life, clinging to me like a babe to her mother.

"Please, Eric! Isn't there anything you can do?" Breanna whimpered. I knew how scared she was of getting into trouble, but while I was flattered at her belief in my abilities, I didn't see what could be done.

"Shame about seeing a young girl like that in court," the man grumbled. "Back in my day, a young lady who stole would have her butt spanked instead. Teach her not to steal again."

"I think I'd have preferred that," Breanna mumbled in my ear.

A solution to our little problem had suddenly presented itself to me. I looked at the man. "If I give Breanna a good spanking, do you agree not to press charges?"

Breanna gasped, staring up at me, but didn't release her grip. For a few seconds, no one spoke. The man raised an eyebrow, considering the proposal. "Hm. If I thought she'd been sufficiently punished… but I think I'd prefer to spank the little miss myself."

"No!" Breanna squealed. "Not you! I trust Eric!"

Unfinished story: Coworkers (M/F story)

Being very busy before Christmas, I did not have time to finish a story this week - nor will I have time in the week to come. However, I have two unfinished drafts, and I think what's here is worth reading, even if the story is not complete. I'll upload the second draft next week, and then work on finishing them - as well as the Sheila Page and Sylvia sequels I will upload in the coming weeks.

 

Alice had only worked with the company for a few weeks, so she was quite delighted when the other girls in her department invited her to join their monthly after-work drinks. Betty warned her that the chats could occasionally get a bit dirty, but Alice assured her that it wouldn't be a problem.

The four were sitting at a pub a stone's throw away from the office, and they were now nearing the end of their third glass. They'd discussed their favourite and least favourite managers, the best stores in the area, and where the most convenient place to park was, when Betty suddenly grinned, leaned forward, and whispered to the others. "Would you like to talk about something a little more… twisted?"

Diane frowned. "What did you have in mind?"

"What is the kinkiest thing you've ever done?" Betty asked, leaning back to watch their response.

The girls looked at each other, nodding. Diane looked at Betty. "Sure – but you go first."

Betty was a curvy brunette with long, straight hair, a dress that she somehow managed to look more expensive than it actually was, and a face full of makeup. She took a sip of her white wine, before telling them "I had a friend with benefits some years ago. Once, he asked me if I could wear a blindfold while we were having sex." She grinned. "And I said yes!"

Charlie gasped, blushing, and Diane raised her eyebrows in shock. Only Alice looked unimpressed.

"It was so exciting!" Diane continued. "Not being able to see what he was doing. I heartily recommend it." She turned to Charlie. "Your turn."

Charlie was a shy, lanky girl in a frumpy sweater and a long skirt who wore her red hair in pigtails. She paused, thinking of how to respond, then blushed as a memory resurfaced. "I once went an entire day without panties on – while wearing a skirt!" She hurriedly lifted her cider and had a small sip, to calm herself.

"Was it a workday?" Betty asked. "Did you go to the office?" When Charlie nodded, Betty's grin became even wider. "You dirty girl!" Out of the corner of her eye, she could see Alice roll her eyes.

Diane placed her IPA down on the table. She was a tall, athletic blonde wearing a t-shirt and jeans. "I once asked my ex-boyfriend to pull my hair while we were in bed." She touched her short-cropped hair. "Obviously, that was while we were still dating, and before I cut my hair."

Alice snorted, and Diane gave her an annoyed look. Alice giggled as she glanced around the table. "This is what you girls think kinky is?" In her hand was some sort of mixed drink, and it seemed her petite body was not as used to alcohol as the others. Or maybe she just had a lot more of it; in either case, she was well past tipsy, which played a part in what was about to happen; she probably wouldn't have shared her experience with three women she barely knew if she was more sober. She had another sip and grinned at them. "Let me tell you about last Friday…"

"This ought to be good," Diane commented drily, but Betty shushed her.

"I've been seeing this guy for about a year now. Stern chap, into discipline," Alice said, putting the glass to her lips again. "I was at his flat last Friday, for one of our regular sessions. As usual, he took me into the living room and pulled my jeans and panties down to my knees. I had to stand in front of him with my hands on my head while he scolded me for forgetting to do my laundry and not cleaning up after myself – little things like that." The others stared wide-eyed at her, and she smiled.

"Standing there on display, naked from the waist down, while he lectured me… it felt like hours, but it probably wasn't more than ten or fifteen minutes. Then, he patted his lap and ordered me over his knee. He pushed me forward until he was happy with my position and then began to spank me." She grinned at the three speechless ladies watching her, mouths open as if they were hoping to catch flies. "He started off quite slowly and gently, but it became harder and faster, and soon, I was squirming over his lap, moaning. But he kept on spanking, his hand slamming down like a paddle, and was bucking and bouncing over his lap with tears rolling down my face. I can't tell you how much I was squealing and yelping! I promised to be good, but he ignored my pleas."

Sheriff Graham's new secretary (M/F story)

A prequel to Sheriff.

 

"You wanted to see me, sheriff?" Claire said, poking her head into her boss' office.

"Ah. Yes, I need to talk to you. Come in," Graham responded gruffly. He was a tall, dark-haired middle-aged man who had begun to grow slightly wider as he aged, but there was still a hint of steel both in his body and his gaze.

Claire entered, sitting down on the chair in front of the sheriff's desk. Claire was a short, curvy woman with an infectious grin, and she beamed at her employer, who did not return the smile.

He picked up a piece of paper from his desk. "Now, you've been working here for a month now. How do you think it's going?"

"Great! It's a good job," she said, still smiling. "A lot to do, but I manage to stay on top of things."

"Hm. Yes, I must admit that you do good work – when you show up, that is."

Her smile faded a little. "What do you mean?"

"After one month, there's been three days you were NOT late. THREE." He scowled. "You're usually fifteen minutes late, and at least once, it was more than an hour. I know my deputy has talked to you about this, but it doesn't seem to have helped. We need you to be here in the mornings – you can't just show up when you feel like it."

She pouted, fidgeting slightly. "I'll do better, I promise!"

"Yes, you told Steven that as well. I'm afraid that pretty words aren't enough anymore. I could dock your pay…"

"Oh, please don't!" she begged, her eyes widening in panic.

"…Or I can find an alternative solution." The prospect might have seemed promising, but there was something about his stern voice that made a shiver run down her back. "Tell me, what would your father have done if you were late when you were working at the farm?"

"Well, he certainly wouldn't have been happy!" she exclaimed. She did not feel like volunteering any further details.

"But what would he have done?" he pressed. She blushed, reluctant to answer the question, so he answered it for her. "He would have taken those jeans down and paddled your butt, wouldn't he?"

She blushed even more, squirming in her chair. She didn't want to admit the embarrassing truth, but she didn't think lying to her employer would be a good idea either. "Well… I guess that… No, I'm not…"

"Because back when I dated your sister, all those years ago, she always made sure that she was back home before her curfew – and told me what would happen to her if she was late." He raised an eyebrow. "Your father doesn't seem like the type of man who would treat his daughters differently in that regard."

She stared at him – she hadn't known that Jessie had shared that piece of information about their upbringing with her boyfriend. Claire had never admitted it to any of the boys SHE'D dated. She stared at the floor, sighing. "Yes," she admitted in a whisper. "Yes, he'd have paddled me."

"Oh? Now, as I said, I can dock your pay, OR…" He opened a drawer, placing a small, thick paddle on his desk.

Sequels

Two months ago, I asked people to nominate stories they wanted to see sequels to. I received three suggestions: the Sylvia stories (where a young man spanks his ex-girlfriend's mother), the Sheila Page stories (where a teenager spanks her friends and their older relatives), and Sheriff (where a small-town sheriff paddles a young woman who was speeding; someone wanted a prequel).

I had originally planned to create a poll to see which one people wanted to see the most, but I was already thinking of sequels to the first two before I asked for nominations, so I'll be writing all three. I'm hoping to get all three out before the end of the year, but I'll have to see how busy the Christmas season is. The Sheriff story will be uploaded in a few minutes.

The violin teacher (M/F story)

"Let's try this one more time," I said calmly, doing my best to hide my annoyance. Jolie scowled at me, before lifting the violin bow and giving it another go. Sadly, the result was just as unimpressive as the last few attempts. "Did you forget to practice again?" I asked, no longer able to keep my voice level.

The eighteen-year-old blushed, placing her hands on her hips and glaring at me. "Of course I didn't, Elliott! I completed all the exercises you gave me, and –"

I raised an eyebrow, and the look I gave her was enough to make her fold and tell the truth.

"OK, I didn't," she admitted, sighing. "I was going to, but I was just –"

"'Was going to' is not good enough, Jolie," I said sternly. "I give you those exercises for a reason. Not only do you ignore your exercises, but you LIE to me about it?" I folded my arms in front of my chest. "You know what that means, don't you?"

She turned pale, swallowing nervously, and both hands reached back to clasp her bottom protectively. It was clear that she knew what I intended to do. "Please…" she whispered.

"Take down your jeans," I instructed.

"You can't do this," she muttered. "I'm an adult."

I sighed. "You said pretty much the same thing the last time this happened, didn't you? Did it help you then? No? Then what makes you think it will work this time?"

"My parents never spanked me," she sulked.

"When your parents hired me to come to their house and teach you the violin, they agreed that I could use whatever means of discipline I saw fit – and this is the most effective," I reminded her. "Would you like to explain to your parents that you no longer wish to learn the violin, and that my services are no longer required?" She shook her head. "Then I suggest you take your trousers down NOW, before I add extras."

Pouting pitifully, the teenager started to unbutton and unzip her jeans, pulling them down to her knees. I guided her over my lap so that her bottom was raised high in the air and her head faced the floor. I then placed my fingers in the waistband of her white knickers.

"Please, Elliott!" she squealed. "Can't you leave my panties up?"

"Jolie, have I ever spanked you over your panties?" I asked. "No? Can you give me a good reason why I should do it this time?"

"It's embarrassing," she whimpered.

"That's what makes it effective," I told her as I slipped her panties down to join her jeans around her knees. Wasting no more time, I lifted my hand and delivered a series of hard slaps to her pale, quivering buttocks.

Jolie gasped as the first smacks landed, but quickly bit her lip to stop herself from crying out. She always tried to take her spankings bravely – stay perfectly still, no tears, and no crying out. I don't know why she bothered, as she was always reduced to a sobbing, squirming, pleading mess by the time I was done.

I moved my hand from cheek to cheek, covering every inch of her posterior with hard, stinging spanks. She had wasted both my time and hers, and then lied to me about it, and I intended to make her sorry. She was still trying to be stoic, but when I focused my attention on her sit spots, the first squeals escaped her lips, and she began to wriggle. I knew it would not be long before tears fell.

As I punished the young miscreant, I happened to glance up, and was surprised to see someone peeking in through the door crack. I recognized Iris, Jolie's sister – a decade older than her, but with the same long, dark hair and almond eyes. The woman had moved out years ago, but still visited her parents and sisters often, and I had seen her around the house a couple of times.

When Iris realized that she'd been spotted, she blushed beet red and quickly closed the door. I decided that I needed to talk to her about that later – I was fairly sure Jolie didn't want her sister spying on her private punishments. However, right now, I had other matters to deal with, and Jolie still sounded far from contrite.

Forgetting his birthday (M/F story)

Hazel was standing outside her flatmate's bedroom door, trying to summon the courage to enter. Eventually, she took a deep breath, lifted her hand, and managed to knock.

"Come in," a dry, monotonous voice said.

She opened the door to find Giles sitting at his computer. He glanced up, nodding at her before returning his attention to the screen.

"Happy birthday," she said again, wringing her hands. "And… I'm SO sorry for forgetting about it!"

"It's fine," he said, trying to sound like he meant it. "It's not a big deal."

"It IS a big deal," she insisted. "I haven't bought anything, I didn't prepare anything… I had the day off! I could have baked a cake and prepared dinner for when you came home, maybe hung some decorations…"

"You didn't have to do any of that."

"You did it for MY birthday," she pointed out. "It was wonderful coming home to all that. I should have done the same."

"It's fine," he repeated, though he still didn't sound as convincing as he hoped.

"Giles, you're allowed to be upset when people close to you forget your birthday. You don't have to play the stoic act around me."

He shrugged. " We just share a flat. We're not dating or anything like that. We're on friendly terms, but not exactly besties. It's OK." He still stared at the computer screen, and it was clear that he wanted the conversation to be over.

"I don't even have a gift! Remember that necklace you bought for me? How many months in advance did you order that again?" She sighed. "If only I'd seen the notification before the shops closed."

"I told you, it's fine," he snapped, still not looking up from his screen.

"You say that, and I appreciate it, but I can tell you don't mean it," Hazel said. "I just feel so guilty about it." She bit her lip, wondering how to broach the subject that was on her mind. "I think I need to be punished."

He finally glanced up at her, narrowing his eyes. He stared at her for almost a minute before speaking. "Tread carefully," he warned her.

"You should spank me," she added. "Like you spanked Zelia."

The businesswoman and the waitress (F/F story)

Imogen was on a business trip to a town she'd never been in before, and late in the evening, she had somehow ended up on her own in all-night diner. The only people present were a group of giggling teenaged girls and the waitress, a young, slim, dark-haired woman whose name-badge identified her as Abby.

The waitress brought Imogen her third cup of coffee of the night, and she thanked her. The two women started chatting, and during their conversation, Abby nodded towards the teenagers at the other end of the room. "Look at them," she said disapprovingly. "It's a school night, and they're out this late? From the way they act, they've probably been drinking as well." She tutted disapprovingly.

Imogen looked at the girls, then back at the waitress. Abby didn't look that much older than the teenagers, but there was something in her eyes that suggested maturity beyond her years. "They look old enough to drink, don't they?"

Abby sniffed. "Possibly, but they're going to have a bit of a hangover in class tomorrow – unless they skip, of course." She shook her head. "Every single one of them needs a smacked bottom, but I suppose their parents are letting them down in that department."

Imogen squirmed in her chair, feeling a little hot under the collar as she glanced at the waitress. The mention of spanking had given her a funny little feeling in her stomach, and for some reason, she was feeling bold tonight. "Really? It's been more than a decade since I was a teenager, but I went out drinking more than once on a school night when I was their age," she said, sipping her coffee. "Are you saying I need a spanking?" Realizing her slip-up, she blushed as she corrected herself. "NEEDED a spanking, I mean."

Slowly, the waitress turned her gaze on the businesswoman. She smirked, and there was something in her look that suggested that she was reading Imogen's inner-most thoughts. "Perhaps," she said. Imogen stared out the window, avoiding the girl's eyes.

The waitress continued to look at her, and in the end, Imogen couldn't pretend to study the scenery any longer. "So," she said, taking a deep breath. "If you had been in charge of me back then, what would you have done? Bend me over a table and swatted my trousers right in front of them?"

Abby's grin grew wider. "Not at all. I would drag you into the back room for some privacy. I would then pull down your trousers and knickers, take you over my knee, and spank your bare little cheeks. When you were sorry for your misbehaviour, I'd send you to the corner with your hands on your head and your bare buns on display, so that I could admire my handiwork."

Imogen stared at her, unable to breathe. Her face burned like a forest fire, and she couldn't get the image of herself bent over the waitress' lap out of her head. Here she was, a successful businesswoman, being threatened with a spanking by a girl ten years younger than her. And somehow, it sounded quite appealing.

Delegating to her assistant 2 (M/F story)

There was a knock on the door to Barbara's home office. Jim poked his head in, smiling at his wife and her assistant Holly. "Hello, girls. Do you want lunch soon?"

As soon as she laid eyes on him, Holly beamed. "Hi, Daddy!" Realizing what she'd said, she clasped her hands in front of her mouth, blushing. "Sorry! It's just –"

"I told you, it's fine," he assured her. The week before, he'd pulled Holly over his knee and spanked her bare bottom, then carried her into the bedroom for some passionate lovemaking – and both of these were at his wife's suggestion, and while she watched. Considering everything that had happened, the nickname was probably the least inappropriate thing about their relationship. "You can call me Daddy if you want."

"Are you sure?" she said nervously, biting her fingernail. "You don't mind?"

He thought about it. "Well, it's frightfully naughty of you, so I may have to spank you for it later."

"Oh, no, that sounds dreadful," she responded, grinning.

He looked at his wife. "Lunch?"

"Not right now," she told him. "We're in the middle of something."

He frowned. "That's what you said yesterday, remember? And you didn't eat anything." He folded his arms in front of his chest. " I'll rephrase the question. Would you like to be able to sit down for your lunch, or do you need a talk with the paddle first?"

Barbara squirmed in her chair. She hated it when her husband scolded her in front of her assistant; it made her feel like a naughty little girl. And while she found Jim's stern side incredibly sexy, and the thought of spankings was arousing, she hated actually being spanked – which was why she'd delegated them to Holly. Realizing how close she was to actually being in trouble, she gave in. "How about some caprese sandwiches? In…" She glanced at the clock. "Fifteen minutes?"

"Sounds good," he said. "See you two then."

When Jim left, Holly glanced over at her boss. It took a few minutes before she summoned the courage to speak. "Barbara?"

"Yes, Holly?" her boss responded, not looking up from her work.

"Are… are you sure you're OK with this? With me being spanked by your husband?"

Barbara smiled. "Holly, have I ever been shy about expressing my displeasure?"

"Not at all," she assured her. Quite the opposite, in fact.

"Then that's your answer," Barbara responded calmly.

"And… " Holly stammered. "And you're also OK with…"

"I don't have a problem with you fucking him, either," she added. "You DO remember that I was the one that suggested both of those things, right? As long as I can watch, and as long as he has energy left to satisfy me as well."

Holly had to admit that her life had taken a very strange turn recently. "And me calling him 'Daddy'?"

Barbara finally looked at her, and shrugged. "I'll admit, that's a little weird, but go ahead. Fly your freak flag high, girl. Have fun." She raised an eyebrow. "Just don't start calling ME 'Mummy', or you WILL be in trouble." She returned to her work.

After a few minutes, Holly spoke up again. "Barbara?"

Barbara sighed. "What is it now, Holly?"

"Well, those fifteen minutes are almost up. If we're late for lunch, I don't think Daddy will –"

"Oh!" Barbara rose to her feet, her face slightly pale. "I'd forgotten! Yes, let's go. Thanks, Holly! I owe you one." She grinned. "You saved my butt – literally!"


The next day, Holly and Barbara were back in the office. In the break room, Barbara was talking to some of her employees, making sure everything was ready for the work trip she was leaving for the next morning. "If you have any questions while I'm away, Holly's been filled in on pretty much everything – and she knows how to contact me if there's something she doesn't know." She turned to Holly. "Do you know where those new hard drives are? The ones for my home office?"

"They're on their way – I think they'll be here the day after tomorrow," the assistant responded. "If you want them ready for when you're back, I can drop them off with Da – " She cleared her throat. "With Jim." She struggled to avoid blushing. "Sorry, for a second there, I almost called him 'Daniel'. Don't know why…"

Barbara hid her grin, knowing full well that this was NOT what she'd almost called him. She wondered how the others would react if Holly sat there in the break room and called the boss' husband "Daddy" to her face. Should she have grinned, glared, giggled, or pretended that it was completely normal? Either way, Holly would probably have passed out from embarrassment.


"Hello, Daddy," Holly said cheerfully when Jim opened the door. "I have the hard drives that Barbara ordered."

"Hello, Holly." He stepped aside to let her in. "By the way, if you're calling me Daddy, is there something you'd like me to call you?"

She paused. Her throat suddenly felt bone dry. "Well," she whispered timidly. "I-I've always wanted to be called 'Kitten'…" She looked nervously at him, clearly worried about his response.

He felt the urge to laugh, but managed to contain himself. Holly was convinced that her whims were incredibly dirty and wrong, and that they would shun her and be disgusted by whatever she suggested. In truth, she was the least filthy person of the three of them, and he did her best to make her feel comfortable. "That sounds fine, Kitten. Would you like me to set those up for her, or do you want to do it yourself?"

"I'll do it," she told him, heading to Barbara's home office. As she worked, her heart was beating rapidly. Every time she looked at Jim, she thought about being over his lap, and hearing him calling her "Kitten" only made it worse. She shouldn't have let it go so long without asking for another spanking. She had to find her way back over his lap soon, or she'd burst.

When she emerged from the office, her work completed, Holly found Jim sitting in the living room watching TV. "Can I talk to you, Daddy?"

"Sure, Kitten," he said, turning off the TV. "What about?"

"Well…" She paused, feeling the butterflies soaring like albatrosses in her tummy. "It's just… it's been a very long time since my spanking…"

"A little over a week," he told her. "Your birthday."

She nodded. "I… was just thinking…"

"That you want another one?" he said, grinning. She nodded shyly, and he thought about it. "Well, Barbara's going to be gone for a week, and she'll probably want to relax on the day she comes home. How does Friday next week sound? You can come here straight after work, and we – "

"But that's so long," she whimpered. "You're really, really good at it, you know that?" She bit her lip. "We don't have to wait for her, do we?" He stared at her, and she continued. "You're here, and I'm here, and we can –"

Delegating to her assistant (M/F story)

On a fine September morning, Barbara had decided to work from home, as there were some files she kept there that she'd like to have at hand if needed. However, she also wanted to have her assistant nearby, and asked Holly if she didn't mind coming over – the home office was more than large enough for the two of them. Holly readily agreed, partly out of a desire to see how her boss lived. It turned out that the house was bigger than she had imagined, and that Barbara had an eye for decoration. Her boss gave her a quick tour before they sat down to work.

Barbara's husband Jim had been working from his own home office at the other end of the house, but popped his head in around lunchtime. He hadn't been there when Holly arrived, and as he looked straight at his wife and didn't acknowledge her presence, she guessed that he hadn't noticed she was there. Holly smiled to herself as she watched him; though a decade older than herself, Jim was a handsome man who kept himself in shape.

"Should I make some lunch for us? Anything in particular you'd like?"

She shook her head. "Not right now, thanks."

"Are you going to be working through lunch again? Working so hard you'll forget to eat?" He folded his arms over his chest. "Do I need to put you over my knee and spank you?"

Holly, who had been finishing a report, suddenly dropped her pen, a small squeak escaping her lips as a blush spread across her cheeks. Was this a joke? Was he being serious? Did he spank his wife often? She had never imagined Barbara bending over someone's knee – but now that she did, she found it hard to stop. Jim heard the sound and turned towards her, and from the look on his face, she guessed he wouldn't have made that comment if he'd known she was here.

Barbara shook her head, grinning at him. "Sorry, but being spanked sounds painful, and today, I'm delegating all unpleasant tasks to my executive assistant. Holly, you're up!"

Holly squealed again. The slight blush had now turned into a raging inferno, and she couldn't look at either of them. The mental image of herself over Jim's lap, feeling his big, strong hands on her sensitive bottom, was even harder to dislodge than the one of Barbara. After a few seconds, she glanced at Jim out of the corner of her eye, as if wondering whether he was about to charge at her and throw her over his knee. He hadn't moved an inch, but he raised an eyebrow as he looked at her.

Her oblivious friend 2 (M/F story)

When Olivia arrived in class that Friday, Simon greeted her with a kiss. Out of the corner of her eye, she could see Erica staring at them, and Olivia felt a little tinge of pleasure from the look on the girl's face – it was clear that Erica realized that she'd lost the battle for Simon's affection. Not that Simon had ever realized that there was one, of course.

"So, are you two finally dating?" Jacob asked, raising an eyebrow at his friend. Simon nodded. "How did that happen?"

A cold shiver ran down her back as Olivia waited for Simon's reply. At no point had she thought of telling him to lie about that – and Simon, who was an honest person, wouldn't see any reason not to tell the truth. He would calmly inform the class that after she discovered his secret kink, she'd stood in his bedroom in a slutty maid outfit and asked him to spank her, and he'd happily obliged. DOING it had been embarrassing enough for her – but standing here and listening to him tell them all about it? That would be torture! She wanted to give him a subtle wave to keep quiet, but she knew that there was nothing she could do that would penetrate his usual denseness – at least nothing that wouldn't be picked up by everyone else in the room.

Simon thought for a second. "Well, yesterday, she came to my house to play video games, and she told me how she felt. I realized I felt the same." He shrugged. "Not much more to say, really."

Olivia managed to keep her face neutral as she breathed a sigh of relief. What a sweet reinterpretation of events. It turned out Simon could be tactful as well. Who knew? That was an even bigger surprise than discovering that he liked to spank girls.

After school, they headed back to his house. His parents would not be back from their cabin trip until very late, so they sat in the living room chatting and watching TV.

After a while, he smiled at her. "By the way, how is your bottom feeling? I hope I wasn't too hard on you yesterday."

She beamed back. "All healed, thank you." Her impish side made her give him a lustful grin. "Would you like to see?"

"Nah, I believe you," he said, returning his glance to the TV. It took almost a minute before he realized what she'd said. He spun around. "I mean, yes please!"

Olivia stifled a chuckle. Simon had a lot of good qualities, but there was little chance of him being the brains in the relationship.

She tossed her hair and glanced flirtatiously at him as she leaned over his lap. His hand rubbed gently on the seat of her skirt, and she purred softly, pushing her bottom into his palm. Eventually, he raised her skirt, lowering her green cotton panties to reveal a beautiful bare bottom. His fingers explored her curves, and she moaned.

"Hm. There's a few faint marks," he said quietly. "A little bit of pinkness. Not entirely healed, I see." He rested his hand on her bottom, squeezing gently. "Maybe I should spank you for lying to me…"