Zoe & Thomas: Working from home (M/F story)

 Part of the Zoe & Thomas series.

 

 Thomas sat at the desk in the spare bedroom, a cup of tea at his side as he typed at his work laptop. Behind him, his girlfriend Zoe entered the room, dressed only in one of his old shirts as she stretched sleepily. Her professors had taken the week off for an autumn break, so she didn't have college classes this week.

"Hey, babe," she mumbled as she leaned down for a kiss on the lips. "Let's have breakfast!" She thought for a second. "Though I suppose it'll be lunch in your case, won't it?"

"Hello, sweetie," he responded, beaming up at her. "That sounds great, but lunch is still an hour away, and I have a Teams meeting with my boss soon."

She pouted. "I'm not sure I can wait that long. I'm hungry now!"

"Then have a snack or something, and I'll join you when I can – or you can go ahead and eat, and we'll sit together during lunch. Whatever sounds best to you."

She folded her arms in front of her chest, pouting even more. "I thought the whole point of you being home was that we could spend time together. I don't know why you don't want to be around me."

He sighed, preparing to break it down for her yet again. "Zoe, the office job pays a LOT more than my old job at the gas station, it's more fulfilling, it's safer, and I'm not as tired at the end of the day, which are all good things, right?"

She nodded, still pouting.

"The only problem is the commute, which is longer than I'd prefer – but the boss allows me to work from home most of the time, which is very nice of her." He smiled. "That way, I avoid the commute, and we can spend breaks and lunch together – in fact, you can bring a book or something in here, and we can spend every second together, as long as I actually do my work. The problem is, if I don't complete my tasks, I can't work from home any longer, which would be bad."

Zoe was still pouting. "I wish you could come to lunch with me NOW."

"And so do I – but unfortunately, I still have that meeting." He smiled at her, kissing her again. "You can be patient for one little hour, can't you?"

"I guess," she mumbled. He turned to his laptop again, checking what he needed to prepare for the meeting. Suddenly, he felt her lips at the base of his neck.

"Zoe, it's hard to concentrate when you're kissing my neck," he scolded.

"Really?" she said, grinning as her lips moved to his ear. "Guess you have to take a break, then."

He sighed. "I told you that I have a meeting. You're not being a good girl, Zoe. Do you want me to take you over my knee?"

She shivered. "No," she grumbled.

"Then I suggest you start behaving."

Zoe & Thomas

 I've decided to make pages linking to all parts of a series, to make it easier for readers to find them when they want to read the whole thing. This will be slowly and gradually, and I don't know when the next page will be created.

 

"Zoe & Thomas" is the tale of a bratty woman in her early twenties, and the boyfriend that disciplines her when she needs it. All parts are M/F punishment stories.

Part 1: The inappropriate costume  

Part 2: Puddles

Part 3: Halloween in the cemetery

Part 4: Working from home

 

It's always fun writing Zoe's dialogue, as she is eternally unable to realize that she's talking her way into trouble.  If she just realized what she was doing, she could apologize and avoid a spanking - but then there wouldn't be a story, would there?

Disciplining her flatmate (F/F story)

When I first had the idea for last week's story about a woman that spanks her dorm-mate for being messy, I couldn't decide whether the spankee should be into it or not. In the end, I decided to write both. This is the second one – different in many ways, but based on the same premise. I hope you enjoy it.

 

 "When are you finally going to start vacuuming?" I said sternly as I glared down at my flatmate Luanna, who was sitting on the sofa and staring at her phone. We'd been living together for about a month, but it was beginning to feel like it had lasted a decade.

"I told you, I'll get to it, Joelle. Don't nag me. You're sounding like my mother," Luanna said, rolling her eyes in a way that would have been annoying for a teenager – and it didn't get any less infuriating when coming from a 25-year-old woman.

Luanna had only recently moved out of her parental home, where her mother had done almost all of the housework. As such, I now found myself with a flatmate who didn't clean up after herself, had never done her own laundry, and considered boiling an egg to be an impossible culinary challenge. She also seemed to struggle with the concept that the hot water tank in our flat was smaller than the one in her mother's large house. Every time I found myself forced to take a cold shower in the morning, I could feel my palm itch, longing to give Luanna the one thing her mother had never been considerate enough to give her: a long, hard spanking on the bare bottom.

And if there was one word that described Luanna, besides "brat", it would probably be "spankable." She was a tall brunette with a firm, well-shaped backside that she loved to show off in tight jeans, and there was something about her pouty expression that made me long to see her standing in the corner with those jeans pooled around her feet and her red bottom on display. She'd look even cuter like that, I decided. 

It would be one thing if she was eager to learn some of the things her mother had failed to impart, finally ready to grow up, but that was sadly not the case. When I offered to teach her how to do something, or help her with a task, she quickly tried to sneak away and leave it to me.

Deciding I had better things to do with my day than stand there and watch my flatmate not doing housework, I headed out. I was picking up a parcel from the post office, and we needed groceries. I'd previously tried to make Luanna do the shopping, but either she'd postpone it until the shops were closed, or she'd somehow convince herself that buying a latte at Starbucks counted as getting milk.

The line at the post office was even worse than I had expected, and when I finally returned to the flat, more than two hours had passed. Before entering, I wondered whether Luanna had moved a finger while I was away, and soon discovered that she had – she hadn't done any vacuuming, but she'd made herself a sandwich. I could tell, because there was an assortment of spreads standing on the kitchen counter, and a dirty plate on the coffee table with a half-eaten sandwich lying next to it. I sighed – never mind cleaning up after herself, the girl couldn't even place the sandwich back on the plate after taking a bite.

Luanna was still staring at her phone, and I could no longer contain my wrath. "Luanna!" I snapped, taking the phone from her hands. "Either you clean up this mess RIGHT NOW, or you'll find yourself over my knee for a smacked bottom. Is that clear?"

Dorm room secrets (F/F story)

When I first found out that I would be sharing a dorm room with Lily, and thus sleeping only inches away from the most attractive and most popular girl I knew, my heart started beating. I considered myself the luckiest girl in the college, and I was quite looking forward to it. By now, almost two months later, that initial delight had definitely worn off.

Don't get me wrong; Lily was still a stunner – a tall, curvy blonde with a cute button nose, and it was always captivating to watch her bend over to retrieve something from the bottom drawer of her desk, and see those tight pyjamas stretch nicely over that beautiful bubble butt. I could feel my palm itch just looking at it. However, she turned out to be a real pain in the rear to live with. She was never knowingly selfish, but she was shortsighted and seemed unable to predict how her actions would affect others.

Today, I had gone straight to the library after my college classes were done, and I returned to the dorm room in the evening to find that a party had happened while I was away. Beer bottles were strewn all over the room, crisps had been trampled into the carpet, and there were stains that hadn't been cleaned up, while Lily was lying on her bed reading.

"Hi, Debra," she called out in her usual cheerful tone. "What's up?"

"Had a party, I see?" I said curtly. She nodded, and I continued: "And when were you planning to clean this up?"

"I'll do it tomorrow," she replied casually. "I'm a bit tired now."

"Do you think it's acceptable to leave the room in this state until then?" I said, placing my hands on my hips in what my little sister teasingly called my 'mum pose'.

She frowned. "Is something wrong, Debra? You seem upset."

"I'll tell you what's wrong," I said, starting to count on my fingers. "One, you hold a party here without asking me. It's my room too, and I have a right to know when there's going to be other people here. Who knows, maybe I'd accidentally left my underwear drawer open or something. Two, it's a bit hurtful that I didn't get an invite – I don't think I'd have spent the evening at the library if I knew there was a party."

A guilty expression crossed her face. She seemed about to say something, but didn't.

"Three. I come home after a long day of studying to find my room in a mess. If you're going to have a party, the least you can do is clean up after yourself – not leave it until the next day. Every part of the room is messy, and someone even accidentally spilled a beer bottle in my bed." I frowned. "At least, I HOPE that's what that small stain is…" Quickly sniffing it, I sighed in relief. "Thank God, it's just beer."

She rose up on her elbows, putting her book away. "Oh. I'm sorry. I didn't think –"

"I'm sure you didn't. You never do." I sighed. Too tired and frustrated to consider what I was saying, I blurted out "I should take you over my knee and spank you."

On the train (M/F story)

When Catalina boarded the train, she planned to read a bit in an empty compartment – which would not be difficult to find at this time of year. However, she soon spotted an attractive man sitting alone, and she concluded that while solitude could be great, there were benefits to company as well.

 

The man was tall and broad-shouldered, with deep blue eyes and dark hair, and the slight stubble gave him a rugged look. "Can I sit here?" she asked with a smile as she opened the door.

 

The man shrugged, barely glancing at her. It was not the dazzling grin of welcome she'd hoped for, but it would do. She sat down next to him, deciding that she'd quite like to get to know him better.

 

As the train rolled on, however, Catalina found her efforts poorly rewarded. She learned that his name was Arthur and that he was on his way home from a work conference, but while he answered all of her questions, he didn't ask any in return, and he did little to keep up his half of the conversation. He mostly stared off into space, as if he was thinking deeply about something – or possibly on drugs.

 

She nodded to the window. "Do you mind pulling the blind up? The scenery here is quite beautiful."

 

He shook his head. "Sorry, but no. Seeing things speed past is… stressful."

 

She raised an eyebrow. His taciturnity suddenly made sense. "You're scared of trains?" she asked incredulously. He nodded. "What about flying?"

 

"Flying's worse," he told her, his voice slightly strained. "Trains at least stay on the ground most of the time. I prefer driving, with full control over where I'm going, but that wasn't an option this time."

 

Catalina giggled; there was something delightful about this big, strong man being scared by something so silly. He cast her an angry glare; it seemed he did not find the situation quite so humorous.

 

She reached out to pull up the blind, but he grabbed her wrist. "Stop it," he warned in a quiet voice.

 

She tried to shake him off and reach the window, but his grip was firm; it seemed he was just as strong as he looked. "Or what?" she said sassily. "What are you going to do if I pull the blind up?"

 

"I'll put you across my knee and spank you," he said calmly as he released her arm.

 

Catalina gasped, her heart beating rapidly. He couldn't have said what she'd just heard, could he? She looked at him, trying to find some hint that this was just some flirty joke, but he seemed entirely serious. Her backside tingled, and she decided that there was something thrilling about this man speaking as if he had every right to pull her across his knee if she disobeyed.

The alchemist and the apprentice (F/F story)

"Great news, Tabitha!" Heidelore exclaimed when her assistant finally arrived at the workshop. As usual, the petite alchemist was wearing a leather apron, a robe that might have been clean once, and a manic grin, and her hair looked like she was waiting for a bird to nest in it. "I have a commission. Have you heard of Crescentia Falkenrath?"

 

The willowy apprentice thought for a second. "The senator's wife?"

 

"That's right," Heidelore confirmed. "It seems Senator Falkenrath doesn't like her wife's spending sprees, and is using a belt on the woman's bare bottom to make her displeasure known. Crescentia, not willing to change her habits, has hired me to make a salve or lotion that will make it possible for her to sit comfortably."

 

"And how much is she paying you for this?"

 

"Seventy denarii," the alchemist replied.

 

Tabitha whistled. "Wow. I wonder how the Senator will react when she learns about that expense. Sounds like it could be painful for Crescentia."

 

"Hm?" Heidelore frowned. "I don't see… Anyway, I've made a few test batches that I think will work, but we obviously need to test them first, so it's good that you've arrived."

 

Tabitha felt a chill running down her spine, and her backside tingled unpleasantly. She had a feeling that she wouldn't like where this was going.

 

Heidelore picked up a leather belt lying on her workbench. "I bought this on my way to the workshop. You raise your robe and bend over the table, I strap your bottom, and we test them out on you."

 

Tabitha tried to swallow, her mouth suddenly bone dry. She had guessed correctly – she didn't like the direction this conversation had taken at all. One hand reached back to cusp her bottom, shivering as she thought about how that belt would feel against her sensitive skin.

 

In the years she'd been apprenticed to the famous alchemist, Tabitha had learned a lot, and there were certainly benefits, but she was also expected to act as guinea pig for Heidelore's various experiments. She'd been stung by insects, had itching leaves rubbed on her skin, and drunk various foul mixtures with unpleasant effects. And it would have been one thing if the cures always worked – but if they did, there wouldn't be any reason to test them, would there? Many of them did nothing, and some even made the problem worse.

 

And now, she was expected to bare her bottom for a strapping from her boss. She HAD to find a way out of this. And from the way her mistress looked at her, she had to find it fast.

 

"You know," the apprentice said slowly, trying to buy herself time to think, "I believe I see a flaw in this…"

Spying on the maid (F/M story)

"Hello, Mister Blakeley," Reinhild greeted her employer as she entered his home. "I'll just go get changed, and I'll start cleaning."

Cornelius Blakeley gave her his usual bland smile. "Hello, Reinhild. I look forward to seeing you in your uniform."

"Yeah, I'll bet you do," she muttered to herself as she walked down the hall.

Reinhild had been working as a maid for Mister Blakeley for almost a year, and the job had its upsides and downsides. On the one hand, she only had to be there a few hours three days a week, the work was not too hard, and he paid extremely well. On the other, Mister Blakeley demanded that she wear an old-fashioned maid costume while she cleaned – he claimed he liked tradition, but she was fairly certain that he was just a pervert, particularly since he liked to sit there and watch her clean.

He also wanted her to wear high-heeled shoes. She'd even brought some comfortable slippers from home, telling him that her feet would feel much better at the end of the day, but he wouldn't budge. The house was also surprisingly untidy, though she didn't know if he was deliberately making a mess so that he could watch her clean it, or if he was just a slob by nature.

Her uniform was waiting for her in the back room where she kept her cleaning supplies. She changed and went straight to work.

In the living room, Mister Blakeley was sitting in his comfiest chair, a novel in his hand. Despite her employer seemingly being engrossed in his book, she could feel his eyes on her as she cleaned, particularly when she bent over to pick up something on the floor. "Think of the money," she muttered to herself. The thought made her work a lot more bearable.

At the end of the day, she returned to the back room to change into her own clothes, sighing to herself. She would go home, soak in the tub, rub her aching feet, and spend tomorrow shopping. Standing there in her bra and panties, she hung the uniform up, and reached for her own clothes, when she suddenly frowned, glancing at the door – surely she'd closed that when she entered, hadn't she?

She walked over to shut it, and gasped. Her employer was standing on the other side of the door, peeking at her through the crack.

When Reinhild was younger, she'd once noticed the boy next door spying on her through a gap in the curtains as she was changing. Obviously outraged, she'd slammed open the window, dragged him inside by the ear, thrown him over her lap, and spanked his bare bottom until it was bright red and he was howling for mercy. He never tried that stunt again – at least not to her.

It's likely that this event was on her mind as she once again found her privacy violated – and maybe it was her memories taking control. Before either of them had time to think, she reached forward and grabbed Mister Blakeley's ear, making him squeal.

"Spying on me changing!?" she snapped at him. "What kind of pervert are you?" There was a stool in the room that she would sit on while changing shoes, and she dragged him over to it. Finally letting go of his ear, she sat down and immediately unbuckled his belt. His expensive silk trousers were unbuttoned, unzipped, and lowered to his knees. Feebly, he tried to stop her, but she slapped his hands away. In a flash, he found himself bent over her knee, staring at the carpet with his bottom in the air.

My former babysitter (M/F story)

I was taking 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," I said, smiling back. 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 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.