Zoe's Valentine's Day (M/F story)

The fourth and last part of Abigail's adventures will be uploaded next week, but I wanted this uploaded before Valentine's Day. Another entry in the Zoe & Thomas series.

Zoe smiled blissfully as she curled up under the blanket on the couch. It was Friday, she didn't have any college classes today, and best of all, it was Valentine's Day! She wondered what Thomas was planning to do once he came home from work. Would he cook something lovely? Had he ordered a table at a nice restaurant? What sort of present had he bought? He knew how important the day was for her, and he always knew how to make her feel special.

Her phone rang. Seeing that it was her boyfriend, she eagerly picked it up. "Hello, darling!"

"Hi, Zoe. I've just been told that there will be a mandatory meeting at the end of the day, so I'll be about half an hour late. Thought I'd let you know. You have the day off, right? Were you planning to make dinner, or should I pick up a pizza on the way?"

Zoe's eyes widened. He expected her to cook on Valentine's Day? That was HIS job! And pizza? He couldn't even pick up something fancy? "I… I wasn't…" She was too stunned to speak.

"Oh, and I think I mentioned to you that I'm playing Fifa with Steve later today? Hope you didn't have any plans?"

Zoe couldn't believe her ears. He was going to play games with one of his buddies on Valentine's Day? After bringing home a cardboard pizza? She frowned. This would not go unpunished. "No plans, no," she said quietly.

"Are you OK?" he said, a hint of concern in his voice. "You seem upset. Is something wrong?"

"No, nothing's wrong. I'll have dinner ready when you come home," she promised, trying to sound cheerful.

"I'll see you soon. Love you, babe."

"See you later," she said, hanging up. She headed into the kitchen to prepare the first part of her surprise.


A few hours later, Zoe was lying on the bed with a glass of wine, still wearing her sweatpants and an old t-shirt. She'd originally planned to dress up before he came home, but their conversation had changed her mind. She heard Thomas enter the house and call out her name, but she didn't respond, and he started looking for her. By now, he would probably have noticed that the house didn't smell like dinner – Zoe had already eaten some pasta. She had no intention of cooking anything for him.

Thomas let out a shocked exclamation when he entered the living room. A few minutes later, he found her lounging on the bed. "Hello, Zoe," he said, his voice strangely calm. She didn't respond. "Would you care to explain why my PlayStation is full of porridge?"

"THAT is what happens when you ignore me on such a special day and make plans to play games with your friends instead," she huffed, glaring at him. "And pizza? Instead of a nice restaurant? Do you really think that's an appropriate Valentine's Day dinner?" She folded her arms in front of her chest. "I bet you don't even have a gift for me, do you?"

Thomas stared at her for several seconds, speechless. Finally, he sighed. "Zoe, Valentine's Day is tomorrow."

Abigail's adventures 3: Pushing her luck (F/F story)

As the first light of dawn entered the room, Abigail groaned loudly and rolled over. This was far too early to wake up! A few minutes later, her eyes shot up when a hand began to gently caress her bare bottom. Where was she, why was she naked, and whose hand was that?

She realized that she was in the room of her flatmate Nilima. The day before, Abigail had returned home after a long, hard, and wonderful spanking from her former employer Isaac, to find her flatmate spanking herself with a wooden spoon. Deciding to give her a hand, Abigail had bent the girl over the kitchen counter and spanked her bare bottom with the spoon until she cried and squealed. The two girls had then ended up naked in Nilima's bed, caressing each other's bottoms while spreading some cooling lotion. They must have fallen asleep in the end.

She glanced out of the corner of her eye and confirmed with a sigh of relief that the hand exploring her bottom belonged to Nilima. The girl stared at her target with wide eyes, and Abigail could guess why – the redness would have faded by now, but the bruises would only be more visible. Her skin was most likely very marked.

She could have scolded her flatmate for touching a sleeping girl like that, but decided not to. Nilima was naturally curious about this new world she'd stumbled into, and Abigail HAD invited her to rub lotion into her sore bottom, which carried an implicit permission to caress her backside. She also didn't protest when Nilima gave her a gentle slap – in these circumstances, the urge would be hard to resist.

When Nilima gave her some harder smacks, however, giggling as she watched the flesh bounce, Abigail decided that she had to put her foot down. She lifted her head. "What do you think you're doing?" she said sternly, grabbing the girl's wrist.

Nilima froze. "Abigail!" she squealed. "I thought you were asleep!"

"I was – until someone started smacking me." She shook her head. "Nilima, you can't possibly be dense enough to think that someone will remain asleep while being spanked?"

"I was just curious what it would be like," she mumbled. "Your butt is so cute!"

Abigail grinned. "Thank you. However, I think we need to clear up a little misunderstanding – regarding WHO is going to be doing the spanking around here, and WHO is going to have her adorable little bottom smacked." Tightening her grip around Nilima's wrist, she sat down on the side of the bed, dragging the mischievous minx across her lap.

Abigail's adventures 2: Her flatmate (F/F story)

Abigail rubbed the seat of her jeans with a blissful smile on her face as she returned her flat after another lovely visit to the stern Mister Stokes. Isaac certainly knew how to spank a young lady – and how to treat her in the bedroom afterwards!

She expected to find her flatmate Nilima reading a book, or baking cookies, or drawing, or something like that. She did not expect to find the petite Indian girl spanking herself with a wooden spoon, but that was exactly what happened.

She heard the smacks as soon as she opened the door. Thinking that the sounds were quite familiar, she tiptoed over to Nilima's bedroom to have her suspicions confirmed. Sure enough – her flatmate was bent over her own bed, one hand reaching back to spank her own bottom with a large wooden spoon. She'd removed her skirt, and her panties were around her knees. Nilima moaned as she tapped the spoon lightly against her bare bottom. Abigail stifled a giggle; she guessed that the girl had never had a REAL spanking, if those taps were enough to make her fidget.

She watched the scene for several minutes, enjoying the sight as the girl continued to spank her own bottom. Finally, Abigail decided to knock on the door and make her presence known.

"Oh! Shit!" Nilima shrieked, spinning around.

"Please, don't stop on my account," Abigail said, grinning impishly. "Go ahead!"

"Abigail!" Nilima said, staring at her flatmate. "This… this isn't what it looks like!"

"Oh? You weren't spanking yourself?" Abigail said sweetly. "Then what were you doing? Playing music? Trying to swat a fly? Is this some new form of exercise I haven't heard of?"

Nilima opened and closed her mouth, trying to think of some excuse. "It's… I wasn't…. It's not…"

"You know, I hope you were planning to wash that spoon before placing it back in the kitchen," Abigail said with a teasing smile.

"It's not from the kitchen! I keep it here," Nilima assured her. "I would never make cookies with my spanking spoon! Don't be disgusting." She pouted, then suddenly realized what she'd said. "I mean – my… my massage spoon!"

Abigail's adventures 1: Meeting Isaac (M/F story)

First part of a short series I've written. 

Abigail could feel the familiar butterflies in her stomach as she followed the path up to Isaac's house. "Mister Stokes to some people, Isaac to my friends,” he often said, but for her, it was usually 'sir'.

Many months ago, when she'd moved here as a poor, bright-eyed student, she'd ended up with a part-time job tending to his garden and other menial tasks. He was a tall, bald, muscular man with dark eyes, and the first time she'd met him, she'd been almost speechless. There was something about the way he looked and acted that had made the red-headed student slightly weak-kneed, and for the first few days, she'd often found her thoughts drifting to him, wanting to know more about him. It was silly – he was almost old enough to be her father – but there was something about him that had caught her interest.

She'd worked for him for a few weeks when the incident occurred. She'd been given a lot of instructions when she started the job, more than she'd been able to remember, and he'd grown tired of her forgetfulness. One morning, he started lecturing her about arriving on time, and on working hard, and on following his instructions, or something to that effect. As he talked, she found herself once again lost in that deep voice and those piercing eyes.

She suddenly realized that he'd stopped talking and was looking at her impatiently. It seemed like he'd asked her a question, and that she'd have to come up with a fairly satisfying answer. In the end, she went with "Huh?”

"That does it,” Isaac had declared angrily, and he grabbed her arm and dragged her along. The next thing she knew, he'd sat down on a nearby bench, yanked her jeans down, and pulled her over his knee. She was completely stunned, unable to move a muscle until the first few smacks landed on the seat of her panties.

"Ow! What's going on?” she yelped.

"Be quiet, girl,” he'd told her. "I've told you time and time again to listen to my instructions, so now, I'm going to show you what happens when you don't.” As he scolded, his firm palm continued to spank her bubble butt, slamming like hard wood against her soft flesh.

Coworkers (M/F story)

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 TV shows they were currently watching, 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 leaned back to watch their response.

The girls looked at each other, nodding, though Charlie looked a little sheepish. 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 make 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!" Betty 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 a ponytail. 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. It hurt, but in a good way, I guess?" 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 had 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. Obviously, I obeyed. He pushed me forward until he felt that my bottom was sufficiently raised, 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 I 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."

Consequences of shoplifting (M/fF story)

The finished story.

 

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 when I entered. "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 couple.

"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 money, 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 introduced 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 suggestion. "Hm. If I thought that 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!"

Sylvia, part III: Violet's punishment (M/F story)

Sequel to Sylvia, part 1 and Sylvia, part 2. I usually only upload one story per week, but I'd decided to upload this before the end of the year - and that's still a few hours away.

 

 Sylvia, my ex-girlfriend’s mother, now visited my flat quite frequently. Sometimes, it was so that I could take her over my knee and give her the good, hard spanking she wanted and needed – she had missed being over a stern man's lap. Other times, it was just to visit me and chat. Today, she’d come to complain about her daughter.

“Violet never cleans up after herself!” she sighed. “And when I talk to her about it, she sasses me! Heaven save me from rude, lazy teenagers…”

“Violet’s no longer a teenager,” I pointed out. Violet had been a classmate of mine, and we were the same age.

“Well, she acts like one!” Sylvia snapped, grumbling into her cup of tea.

“Don’t snap at me,” I said calmly, but there was a certain tone in my voice that Sylvia knew quite well by now. She immediately apologized, as she had no desire to look at the carpet while being paddled over my knee, or study the wallpaper while being placed in the corner afterwards – or, at least, she didn’t’ want it right now.

“Violet has never behaved as well as she did when she dated you. You were a good influence on her – probably due to all those spankings you gave her.” She shook her head. “I wish you two were still dating.”

“If we were, you wouldn’t have asked me to spank you,” I pointed out. She’d told me herself that asking her daughter’s boyfriend for bare-bottomed punishments would be crossing a line – while asking her daughter's ex was perfectly fine.

She shrugged. “Well, then I wish you could come over and spank her anyway!” she declared. She stared into her cup for a few seconds, before giving me a thoughtful look.

I raised an eyebrow when I realized what she meant. “Violet’s no longer my girlfriend, so I don’t think it’s my place to discipline her anymore.”

“But it’s still mine. As long as Violet lives under my roof, I have the right to punish her – maybe even the DUTY to do it.” She grinned. “Nothing says I can’t outsource the job.”

The suggestion seemed odd at first, but when I thought about it, I could see her logic. She could certainly punish the misbehaving daughter who was still living with her, and there was nothing wrong with me helping out a woman in need. Besides, seeing Violet’s face when she was told that she would have to go over her ex-boyfriend’s lap for a good, hard spanking would probably be quite enjoyable – almost as much fun as seeing her squeal and beg as I reddened her bottom.

"I'll think about it," I said.

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.