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

She nodded. "May I come in?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Being sent next door (M/fF story)

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The bank loan 2 (M/F story)

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The bank loan 1 (M/F story)

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The drunken coworker (M/F story)

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He stared at her. "What?"

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

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

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

He stared at her, not sure what to say.

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

Accused of shoplifting (M/F story)

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

 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Standing in the library (M/F story)

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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