Roommate (F/F story)

 Ann looked around the apartment, shaking her head. "Look at this place!" she said, glaring at her roommate, Lisa, who was sitting in the couch with a book. "Are you EVER going to clean up?"

 

Lisa tried her best to look completely uninterested in what Ann was saying, but in reality, she was listening to every word, hoping for another threat like the last one.

 

Last month, Ann had gotten fed up with her roommate's inability to clean up after herself, and had lectured her about how difficult it was to do all the tidying up on her own. She'd picked up a hairbrush that Lisa for some reason or other had left on top of the TV, and pointed it at her roommate like a dangerous weapon. "You better watch yourself," she'd said. "If you don't start cleaning up, I'm going to pull you over my knee and blister you with this."

 

And she'd left the room, failing to see the look on Lisa's face as the threat went through her body like an electric current, making her gasp for air. She wasn't entirely sure why that threat had caused her blush and go weak-kneed like that, but there was no doubt it did. The idea of getting a spanking from Ann was incredibly scary, but disturbingly intriguing at the same time.

 

As the days passed, she watched Ann walk around in her short shorts, long legs on display, and started to imagine herself being pulled over those legs, bottom in the air.

 

The fantasies soon got stronger and more detailed. "You've been a bad girl, Lisa," Ann would say. "And now you're going to get it."

 

Lisa would plead for mercy, promise to do better in the future, but to no avail. Ann had made up her mind, and would punish her for her misbehaviour. Slowly, but mercilessly, she would cover her poor bottom with spanks, as Lisa cried into her pillow. Then, the poor girl would be forced to stand in the corner, with her bare bottom on display, but Ann would soon call her over – not to hug her and tell her she was forgiven, but to pull her back over her knee, brush in hand.

 

Lisa decided she wouldn't clean up the apartment, just to see what would happen.

 

 

"Are you listening to me?" Ann's angry lecturing brought Lisa back to the present.

 

"Every word," Lisa replied.

 

"How do you even MISPLACE some of these things?" She said in disbelief. She picked up a nearby sauce pot. "Why is this not in the kitchen? And this pile of clothes, are they clean or dirty? Either way, they shouldn't be here." Her eyes moved on, falling on the hairbrush on the TV again. Lisa could feel her hands shaking, and she put the book down so it would be less obvious.

 

"Hm," Ann said, smiling to herself. "Perhaps I SHOULD teach you a lesson with this." She looked over at her roommate. "What do you think, Lisa? Do you think a sore bottom would make you listen?"

 

Lisa looked at her, unsure if it was a serious threat or a joke. She considered her reply carefully, before glaring up at her tall, slender, sexy roommate. "You wouldn't dare."

 

As the tall blonde picked up the brush, marching towards her roommate with ill intent in her eyes, Lisa briefly wondered whether that was the wrong thing to say. Perhaps she should have apologized, promised to do better, done a better job of cleaning up in the future and forget this whole silly spanking business. But before she could take her words back, she found herself pulled over a firm set of thighs, a firm wooden brush about to meet her rear end.

 

Ann didn't waste any time with a warm-up, planting a series of firm, hard smacks on the seat of her shorts. Lisa cried out in shock; she hadn't expected a spanking to hurt like this. Soon, the unrelenting assault on her poor bottom had her kicking her legs.

 

"The brush seems to have an effect on you, little girl," Ann remarked, smirking. "Let's see what it does on the bare." And before Lisa could react, she'd grabbed her shorts, jerking them down to her knees. Her panties followed.

 

Ann continued her brush work, and Lisa howled like a banshee. She hadn't expected her thin shorts and panties to be much protection against the brush, but the difference was mind-boggling.

 

"I want you to start cleaning up after yourself," Ann lectured as if it came naturally to her. "I want you to pay attention when I'm telling you something." She delivered a series of hard smacks to Lisa's sit spots, causing her to cry out. "And I want you to keep in mind that I'll keep a brush around to remind you, in case you forget."

 

Finally, after what seemed like days of non-stop spanking, Ann put the brush down and allowed her friend to stand. She laughed as Lisa leapt from foot to foot, desperately trying to rub the sting out of her poor, abused rear. She picked up her clothes, which had been kicked off her legs some time ago, and retreated to her room to escape her laughter. Just before closing the door, she spotted Ann sitting there, self-satisfied smile dancing on her lips.

 

With her bared butt to the mirror, Lisa turned her head, gasping at the deep-red colour of her cheeks. That was HER bottom, all bruised and beaten like that. Her own two cheeks, finally spanked.

 

Now that it was over, and she was safe in her room again, Lisa found the warmth spreading through her quite pleasant, and she knew that she would find some way to get back over her lovely-looking roommate's knee. Once was not enough – couldn't be enough.

 

She slipped on her panties again, wincing as the fabric touched her skin. One thing was sure, she was going to mend her ways. She was going to keep the place spotless. At least until her bottom healed.

Going on the Web (F/M story)

 John looked over his shoulder, making sure he was still alone. If he was discovered going on the webpages he was currently on, he knew he'd be punished. But if he WASN'T discovered....

 

He opened another page, gasping at the female forms that filled the browser. He was lost in thought, imagining what he wanted to do to the beautiful women in the pictures, when he heard a small giggle behind him that made him jump three feet in the air. He whipped his head around. His younger stepsister was looking at him with like a cat that had just spotted a particularly slow, fat mouse. "What do you think you're doing, John?"

 

He opened his mouth, trying to find SOME excuse that would save his skin, but none came. She giggled even harder. "Don't even try, young man. We both know what you've been doing, and what I'M going to do about it, don't we?"

 

He blushed. He knew perfectly well what she was about to do.

 

"Why don't you go into my room and wait for me?" she said. "I'll be in shortly to spank your bratty little bottom." She giggled again. "Oh, you're in for it now! Your butt is going to BURN!"

 

A few minutes later, he was sitting on the bed in her room, waiting for those familiar footsteps that would spell certain doom for his ability to sit. He wanted to get it over with, so that he wouldn't have to sit there worrying. Suddenly, he heard her steps. She walked firmly, but slowly, and he knew she did it to drag out his torment. But finally – or perhaps all too soon? - she reached the door, opening it. She grinned as she saw him sitting there. He had a feeling she'd be grinning a lot today.

 

"Right," she said. "You know why you're here, so there's no need for me to remind you." She sat down on the bed and clapped her hands. "Stand up and strip."

 

"S...strip?" he said nervously.

 

"Off with every stitch," she said joyously. "I think the added humiliation will be good for you."

 

He rose to his feet, and with shaking hands, started to take off his trousers. Despite the fact that she was younger than him, and had no actual authority over him, the thought of resisting her never entered his mind, and even if it had, he'd push it away. She was in charge, and he obeyed. That was the way it had always been.

 

He blushed bright red as he put his thumbs in the waistband of his boxers, pulling them off. He was now completely nude.

 

"Been working out, John?" She patted her lap. "Over here, then. Let's get this show on the road."

 

He placed himself over her lap, feeling her soft legs under his stomach. She placed her hand on his bottom, giving it a quick pinch. The fact that her soft hands would soon cause him so much pain seemed completely absurd.

 

He cried out as the first few smacks landed on his unprotected rear end, followed by many more. Her hand moved from cheek to cheek, each spank harder than the last. He felt tears in his eyes, and soon, he was kicking his legs.

 

"I hope you're learning your lesson, young man," she said. "I won't hesitate to spank you every night for a week if I think you need it." And with a few last smacks, she sent him to the corner.

 

He stood there, hands on his head and bottom on display, the way she'd taught him over the years. He blushed as he heard her giggle. He knew she loved watching his 'cute little butt', as she put it, as it was displayed in the corner. It was one of her favourite sights, and she had a cell phone full of pictures of it to prove it. From time to time, she'd threaten to send a couple of them to the girls in his class, but luckily, she'd been bluffing. At least so far.

 

After fifteen minutes, she told him to get out of the corner. He was about to reach for his clothes, when he noticed that she was still sitting on the bed, and now, she was holding a very big, very mean-looking hairbrush.

 

"You can't..."

 

"What's that, John?" she asked innocently. "Can't what?"

 

"You can't be thinking of using... THAT on me?"

 

"This?" she said, holding the brush up as if she'd only now noticed it. "You think I plan on spanking you with this? You think I'm planning on smacking your sore little butt with it until you can't sit for a week?" She gave him her friendliest smile. "Well, how right you are!"

 

"Please, no more!" He'd felt her brush a few times before, and was in no hurry to repeat the experience. "I've learned my lesson, honest!"

 

She tutted. "Has pleading ever saved your rear end from my wrath, Johnnie boy?" He shook it his head. "And it's not going to do it now, either." She patted her lap. "Get your butt over here now, little boy. If I have to come get you, you will regret it."

 

Defeated, he did as she instructed. He gasped as the cool wood of the brush rubbed against his bottom, goosebumps forming as he thought about how much it would sting in just a few seconds. She lifted the brush, swinging it down at his rear, and he realized how unprepared he had been. Then again, he would never be prepared for the biting pain of that accursed piece of wood.

 

"You are a naughty, filthy little boy," she said as the lifted the brush, bringing it enthusiastically down on his hind quarters. "And now, you have to pay for it."

 

He was sobbing into the bed, all fight and all rational thought driven from him by the pain of the horrible, horrible brush. By the time she put the brush down, rubbing to calm him down, his bottom was bright red, and heavily bruised.

 

"You should see your butt right now," she giggled. "Such a lovely sight."

 

He had a feeling he wouldn't share her view, but decided not to inform her of that.

 

"I should show you some proper web pages later," she said as he rose to his feet, trying in vain to rub the sting away. "Sites about strict women teaching naughty boys how to behave. Would you like that, little brat? Would you like me to show you those sites?"

 

He thought about it. Would declining her offer put his bottom in danger? If it did, the choice was easy.

Secretary's Secret (M/F story)

There was a knock on the door, and I looked up from the papers I had been studying. In came Jenna, our newest secretary. "You asked for me, sir?"

 

Jenna was a short brunette with a friendly smile, and one of the cutest girls I'd ever met. She was one of the most popular girls in the building. Unfortunately, she was also one of the laziest. Jenna had only been working with us a couple of weeks, and when she was at her desk working, she worked at an impressive speed. But far too often, I had found her talking with the other secretaries, or just wandering around in the building.

 

"You know why you are here, Jenna."

 

She nodded; I had talked to her about her problems before. She had promised to improve.

 

"And you still waste far too much of your time."

 

Jenna looked at me, and I could almost see tears in her eyes. "Haven't I improved, sir?"

 

I admitted that she had, but that she still had a long way to go. "Therefore," I told her, "I have decided to let you go."

 

By now, I could actually see the tears in the corner of her eyes. "But please sir, I'll try harder, just-"

 

"I have said all there is to say, Jenna."

 

"But sir! Please give me another chance, just a few weeks, please, sir." Now the tears were running down her cheeks.

 

"I have given you several weeks already," I said, expecting the matter to be over.

 

"But please, sir, I'll do anything, but I can't lose my job now!"

 

I couldn't help myself; I felt sorry for the girl with the big brown eyes. She could tell I was considering the situation, so she sent me a warm smile. That settled it. There was no way I could fire her now. But something had to be done. I looked at her. With those big, wet eyes and the pigtails she always wore, she looked like a scared child. Maybe that's why the idea popped into my head. And the more I thought about it, the more I liked it.

 

"Your problem,” I told her, “Is that you can't concentrate on the task at hand long enough. You lack discipline. And if you can't provide it, maybe I should."

 

"What do you mean, sir?"

 

“I mean that there is one way for you to keep your job: I take you over my knee and spank you.”

 

There was an audible intake of breath, and Jenna looked down on the floor, unable to meet my gaze. Her cheeks were blushing furiously. “But sir, I -”

 

“That is the deal, Jenna. Either leave, or bend over my lap.”

 

To my surprise, Jenna didn't sit there thinking about it for long. She slowly rose to her feet and walked over to stand next to me. I wheeled the chair back, straightened my lap and guided her over it.

 

As I rubbed the short black skirt now lying over my lap, it occurred to me that this could lead to a sexual harassment suit. But sod it, I thought. She wanted me to find a solution, I found one, and she accepted.

 

I started smacking her bottom, wasting no time on warm-up or a slow start, just smacking away quite hard. I wanted to get this over with as soon as possible. As, I suspect, did she.

 

At the start, Jenna just lay over my lap, not moving a muscle. Soon, however, the heat started to build up, and she started kicking her legs. I paused the spanking and told her to lie still.

 

“But it hurts,” she told me.

 

“I know, that's the point.”

 

I continued the spanking, and Jenna continued the kicking. But I decided that the thick skirt was providing too much protection, so I grabbed the hemline and started to raise it.

 

“Please, sir, you can't raise my skirt!”

 

“I can and I will. You agreed to this, now take it.”

 

I started to smack her black panties. As my hand met her rear, her cheeks wobbled up and down. Jenna cried out; it was clear it was much more painful without the skirt.

 

I spanked hard and fast, showering her bottom with spanks. Tears were running freely, and by now I had to hold tightly on to the girl to keep her from kicking off my lap. I kept on smacking, and the bottom in front of me turned from light pink, to darker pink, to red.

 

When I was satisfied that she had learned her lesson, I helped Jenna to her feet. To my surprise, she immediately closed her hands around me, leaning her head against my chest in a hug. We stood there for a while, she crying into my chest and I feebly rubbing her back to calm her down.

 

When she had calmed down enough, Jenna surprised me yet again by thanking me for the spanking. She rubbed her sore bottom through her thick skirt and told me that I had provided some discipline she had sorely lacked. She went back to work, and so did I. For some time, however, I found it difficult to focus.

 

During the next few days, Jenna's work ethic improved, but she still spent a lot of time wandering the halls. I wanted to call her into my office again, but I had promised her two weeks to shape up, and I would give her those. At the end of them, however, I would call her back into my office, and tell her she was fired. Or perhaps I wouldn't. Perhaps I would give her another dose of the old-fashioned medicine. The second option sounded more appealing.

 

Ten days after the incident, however, something happened. There had been talk about the firm being bought up by a rich businessman for some time, and this morning, we learned the rumours were true. Our manager gave the man a tour of his new property, when our new boss dropped the bombshell.

 

For about a month, he said, his daughter had been working at the office in secret, seeing if we were as hard-working and skilled as he had heard. Obviously, she had decided we were. And Jenna walked forward, giving her father a hug.

 

I was sitting in my office, my head in my hands. My colleagues had headed off to a celebration of the transfer of the firm, but I was sitting in the dark of my office trying to digest the new information.

 

A spanking. I had actually spanked the boss's daughter. His daughter, whom he always listened to. I realized now that she could have me fired with a single word. I wondered if there was a word to describe a screw-up of this magnitude. I decided there wasn't. I briefly considered making one.

 

Suddenly, there was a knock on the door. It was Jenna, but not the Jenna who had worked for me, the lazy, talkative secretary. This was the real Jenna, a self-secure young woman who was her father's most effective worker.  I realized how efficient she was. She had pretended to be someone completely different, worn her like an outfit, all the while studying the firm, judging us, stealthily luring information out of the other secretaries. She was good.

 

“Mind if I come in?” she said, flashing a smile at me. She sat down on the chair in front of my desk. For the next few minutes, neither of us said a word.

 

“I'm so sorry,” I told her at last. “What I did was inexcusable, it was -”

 

“You did what you had to. You looked for an alternative to firing me, and you found one. Besides, I could have solved the situation easily. I could have phoned my father and asked him to explain the situation to you. I had already decided you could be trusted with the secret if it came to that.”

 

I looked at her, not even trying to hide my confusion. The whole day had been too much for my poor head, it felt like the puzzle was lacking a vital piece, a single piece of information that would make everything make sense. But I didn't have it.

 

She sighed, obviously annoyed at my ignorance. Then she smiled. “You know, I haven't been completely honest with you. I've been working here almost a month, and I could have told you this at any point. I've been withholding information, almost as bad as lying.” She stood up. “I guess you can say...” she said as she walked around the desk, “... I've been a bad girl.” With that, she leaned forward, pushing my chair back. She flipped her skirt up, leaning over my lap. As I sat there, staring at that beautiful bottom again, she looked at me with a stare that told me to get on with it.

 

I smiled. The missing piece of the puzzle. I lifted my hand and started smacking the willing bottom of the woman that would, in a year's time, be my wife.

Steven & Julie, part 3: Punished (M/F story)

Julie pouted as she stared down at the paper in front of her. She was not happy with the state of things. She had wanted her boyfriend – her BOYFRIEND! They hadn't been together long, and Julie still had butterflies in her tummy every time she thought about the fact that he was now her boyfriend – to act as a strict disciplinarian. She wanted him to lecture her when she needed it, to bare her bottom and spank her when she needed it the most, and to keep an eye on her behaviour and treat her like she deserved to be treated.

 

But not right now!

 

Right now, she wanted to cuddle on the sofa with her boyfriend, laugh at some old film that they had both seen before, and make out. But he'd discovered that she hadn't finished the essay that she was supposed to hand in tomorrow at school, and he wanted her to take care of it before any make-outs. She looked at the blank paper in front of her. Maybe “Hadn't finished” was a charitable interpretation.

 

She rose to her feet. Steven, who was sitting on her bed, looked up from the book he was reading. “Where are you going?”

 

“Getting a glass of water,” she told him.

 

“How's the essay going?”

 

“Slowly, but it's getting there,” she said.

 

He leaned forward. “So why is the page still blank?”

 

She sighed. “I'm still thinking about it, making a few mental notes, you know?”

 

“You should make actual notes instead. That makes them easier to remember.”

 

She sighed. She wasn't sure she liked this new, stricter Steven after all. A couple of minutes later, she was back at the desk, staring at the paper, but still, she had no ideas.

 

“Come on,” she said, sitting down next to Steven. “Let's watch TV for a bit.”

 

“Have you finished your essay?” he asked, without even looking up from his book.

 

“In a little bit.”

 

“Then we'll watch TV in a little bit,” he replied.

 

Back to the desk. After a while, she just sighed, placing the blank paper inside her notebook.

 

“Come on, I'm finished, let's go.”

 

“Finished already?” he said surprised.

 

“Yep,” she said. “It was just a one-page essay, so when I got started, it was easy.”

 

“May I see it?” he asked.

 

“Later,” she said, putting her arm around him. “Sofa now.”

 

He furrowed his brow. “I'd like to see this essay of yours first.”

 

She sighed. “I'll show it to you later. Now come on, let's watch a film.”

 

“Julie, have you actually written your essay?” When she averted her eyes, he grabbed her chin, forcing her to look at him.

 

“No, sir,” she said. That strict tone in his voice made her weak at the knees.

 

“Have you, in fact, even started your essay?”

 

“No, sir,” she admitted.

 

“I'm going to give you a very simple choice, Julie. Either you can get up, sit down at your desk and finish your essay, or I can put you across my knee and spank your bottom, and you can sit on your bare, spanked backside and finish your essay. Which is it?”

 

“I don't want to write now,” she said, flinching at the whining tone in her voice. With a sigh, he lowered her tiny blue shorts to her knees, followed by her panties.

 

“I don't want a spanking,” she whined.

 

“Julie, I seem to remember we discussed this. Who decides when you get your butt spanked?”

 

“You, sir,” she admitted.

 

“There you go,” he said as he pulled her across his lap, patting her backside.

 

“But I don't want a spanking!” she repeated.

 

“That's true, but not relevant,” he said. And he lifted his palm.

 

Steven tended to start spankings gently, warming her up as they both enjoyed the slow ritual. But this time, he started to spank her hard and fast. First of all, this was a punishment spanking, and he wanted that to be absolutely clear. Secondly, he was just as eager about moving on to the make-out session as she was. He just wanted her to finish the essay first.

 

“You knew that this essay had to be done tomorrow. You could have finished earlier this week, or even last week. But you held it off to the last minute, because you didn't want to do it,” he lectured as he spanked her. He found that she listened a lot better once her bottom was bared.

 

“So now, you not only have to finish the essay, but you also have to do it on a sore bottom. Was that a wise choice?”

 

“Ow!” she grimaced in pain. “No, sir.”

 

“Are you going to be a good girl from now on?”

 

“Ouch! Yes, sir.”

 

“Are you going to finish your essay now?”

 

“Owie! Yes, sir, I promise!”

 

“Good. Let's just make sure that this lesson sticks.”

 

And to Julie's shock, he spanked not only harder, but faster as well. She would have not thought it was possible. She squirmed over his lap, trying her best to escape the stinging punishment, but to no avail – every smack landed exactly where he wanted it to, no matter what she did. She tried to reach back, blocking his hand, but he grabbed her arms and held them at the small of her back, and she was unable to move as he continued his unflinching assault on her posterior.

 

Finally, he rested his palm on her backside, rubbing in circles. “Have you learned your lesson now, young lady?”

 

“Yes, sir,” she sighed. His rubbing suddenly felt wonderful against her hot skin, and she pressed her bottom against his palm.

 

“Are you going to finish your essay?”

 

She pouted, but knew that nothing she could say would persuade him. “Yes, sir.”

 

A few minutes later, she was back on the wooden chair, but this time, her shorts and panties were on the floor, her naked backside squirming on the hard wood. She wanted to get a pillow, but she had a feeling that Steven's threat about removing his belt was far from empty.

 

Half an hour later, the essay was finished, and when Steven had read through it and nodded his approval, she was allowed to dress. And a few minutes later, they were on the sofa, making out and almost paying attention to a film they'd seen countless times before.

Steven & Julie, part 2: The change (M/F story)

Steven could feel his irritation growing every minute. They had the day off from school, so Julie had invited him over to watch TV and just hang out. They were sitting on the sofa in the living room, but for some reason, Julie was really snippy with him today, making rude comments and generally being unpleasant to be around. And every time she rolled her eyes at something he said, or turned half-way around in disinterest, he could feel his palm itch.

 

This was a few weeks after the day when Anna had decided to spank Julie for stealing, and had asked Steven for his help when her palm wore out. Steven had been afraid that the event would drive a wedge between them, but she really did seem relieved that he had saved her from the paddle, and she was all smiles and a joy to be around. But the effect seemed to have worn out, and today, she was a nightmare.

 

“You know, I don't think I like your attitude today,” he said at last.

 

“I don't care what you like and don't like,” she said surly.

 

Once again, his thoughts returned to that day, and the sensation of her bare cheeks beneath his palm. He had really enjoyed spanking her, and had hoped to repeat the experience, but didn't really think he'd get his chance. But the way she was acting, he thought it would do her a world of good.

 

“You were a lot more pleasant to be around after your spanking,” he told her.

 

Rising from the sofa so that she could properly stand and glare down at him, she asked him: “Are you saying you want to spank me?”

 

“Your behaviour certainly warrants it.”

 

She folded her arms in front of her. “You wouldn't dare.”

 

Needing no further encouragement, Steven grabbed her wrist, and with a quick jerk, she tumbled over his knee. She seemed too dazed to resist as he positioned her over his lap, with her bottom poking up at him as he raised her skirt to her back. Patting her behind, he started to lecture her. “You invite me over, and then act rude and unpleasant all morning. I've asked you several times what's wrong, and you tell me it's nothing. Well, now I'm going to give you something to complain about.” And he started to spank her.

 

When the first few smacks landed on her backside, Julie seemed to stir from her daze, and she started to complain. “Ouch! Let me up! You can't do this!”

 

“Don't worry, I'll let you up – once your punishment is complete, that is.” With the experience from the last time he spanked her, and from the countless times he'd dreamed about that moment in the days since, he quickly developed a pattern, spanking first one cheek, then the other, moving from the top of her bottom to the sit spots and back. He spanked quickly, but the slaps were relatively light – he didn't want this to be over too soon.

 

“You can't just take your bad mood out on other people and think it won't have consequences. I'm going to give you exactly what you deserve.”

 

“Screw you! Ow! Not so hard!”

 

Suddenly, Steven stopped, his hand resting on her cheeks. Her bottom looked fetching in her powder-blue panties, but he knew that it would look a lot better without them.

 

“Are we done now?” she asked. He furrowed his brow – it almost seemed like there was a hint of disappointment in her voice.

 

“Far from it,” he told her. “I just realized what keeps this from being a proper spanking.”

 

“Feels fairly proper to me,” she said, then gasped as she put his fingers in the waistband of her panties. “Please, Steven, I'll be good, I swear.”

 

“Oh, you definitely will,” Steven said as he lowered her panties to her knees. “I'll see to that.” And he continued the spanking.

 

As painted her backside red, Julie's whining and complaining were soon replaced by pleading and promises to be good. He smiled with great satisfaction as a hard volley of spanks to her sit spots made her kick her legs furiously, and she soon cried into the pillow. By the time he rested his hand on her bottom again, the sobbing girl over his lap had a bright red behind.

 

“Are you going to be a good girl from now on?” he asked her as he started to rub the sting from her tail.

 

“Yes, sir,” Julie said in the politest voice he'd ever heard from her.

 

“Are you going to stop whining, or at the very least, tell me what's bothering you?

“Yes, sir. I promise.”

 

Satisfied with her answers, he helped her up, and she hugged him tightly as the last few tears rolled from her face into his shirt. “Thank you,” she whispered.

 

“Any time,” he told her.

 

As they lay on the sofa in their embrace, they kissed for the first time.