Didn't think he'd do it (M/F story)

"No, you're not going anywhere tomorrow," Vincent said, his tone revealing that he didn't want any further discussion about it. "Not even to visit your friend."

Maxine, his girlfriend, had other ideas. "Give me ONE good reason I shouldn't go and visit Claire," she said, scowling.

"How about this? A storm's hitting the coast tomorrow, and you shouldn't be outside when it hits. And since you lost your license last month, you can't drive – and I won't have you WALKING through weather like that."

"You're leaving the house tomorrow," she said, sulking.

"To go to work," he pointed out. "I'd much rather be at home. Besides, I'll be home well before the storm hits – and in a car."

Maxine opened her mouth, still hoping to change his mind, but he placed his finger on her lips to get her to stay quiet. "And how is this for a reason?" he said. "I won't have you endangering yourself. If you as much as STEP OUTSIDE the house tomorrow, I'm going to pull you over my knee and spank the living daylights out of that sweet little butt of yours. Is that understood, young lady?"

She gave him a clearly sarcastic smile, to show that even though she got his little joke, she didn't think it was at all funny. Spanking her, like she was some six-year-old with a bratty streak? Please!


As Vincent approached the house, he was glad the drive was almost over. The storm had come earlier than reported, and it was raining quite badly. Soon, he could sit down in the couch, hug his girlfriend and watch a film as they waited for the storm to pass. He couldn't wait.

He entered the house, calling out, and got a sinking feeling in his stomach when there was no response. She couldn't have... Had she actually been stupid enough to leave the house? He searched through the house, but couldn't find her anywhere. That's when he found the note on the table.

"It's easier to ask for forgiveness than permission. I'm at Claire's house, see you tonight!"

He picked up the phone. If she was at Claire's house, at least he could sit down and wait until she came back when the storm was over. He'd be waiting in anger, ready to drag her over his knee and blister her bottom the second she came through the door, but at least they'd both be safe.

"No, I haven't seen Maxine all day," Claire said. "She said she'd stop by, but I assumed she'd cancelled it because of the storm."

He put the phone down with a sense of dread. This meant that she was somewhere between their house and Claire's, outside in the storm. All alone.

He ran to the car.


As he drove through the storm, glancing around to see if he could spot her by the side of the road, he picked up his cellphone. If he knew where she was, it would be easier to find her. But there was no answer.

He'd been out there for fifteen minutes before he spotted her, cowering under a tree. As he ran over to her, she flung her arms around his neck, clutching him as if she was a scared child. She was wearing a thin coat, barely protecting against a stiff breeze, much less a storm.

"I hope you're sitting comfortably," he growled when he'd carried her back to the car, and started to drive home. "Because when I get you home, you won't be sitting down for a MONTH!"

She rolled her eyes. She still didn't think his little joke was funny, but since he'd just saved her from a storm, she was going to let it pass. A few bad jokes didn't seem so bad from the man who'd saved her life.


"Finally," she sighed as they entered the house. "First thing first: A long, hot bath."

She walked towards the bathroom, but he stepped out in front of her, stopping her. "Aren't you forgetting something? Like that spanking I've been promising you?"

She rolled her eyes, trying to push him out of the way. "Don't get me wrong, I'm very grateful that you rescued me, but that whole 'spanking' thing STILL isn't funny."

In the blink of an eye, he'd grabbed her arm and pulled her towards the couch. "I agree."

She gasped as he sat down, pulling her across his knee. What was going on? He couldn't be SERIOUS about the whole spanking business, could he?

As the first smacks landed on her denim-covered seat, causing her to cry out in a mixture of surprise and pain, she got her answer. She tried to stand up, to run from the sudden sting in her rear, but he'd placed his left hand on her back, holding her down.

"Ow! Let me up, you bastard!"

"Ignoring my orders? Being rude to me? Endangering your own LIFE!?" The anger in his voice was one of the scariest sounds she'd ever heard, especially considering her current position. "Oh no. I'm nowhere near done with your arse."

She howled as his hand continued its unrelenting assault on her rear end. She tried to reach back, but he grabbed her hands, holding them against the small of her back. "You deserve every smack," he said strictly.

She breathed a sigh of relief as the spanking stopped, which turned into a gasp as his hands moved to her jeans, starting to unbutton them. "What are you doing?" she said.

"I think this lesson will get through to you a lot better without your jeans," he told her.

She gasped as his hand landed on her panties. It hurt so much more without her jeans. "Ouch! Please, I'm sorry! I'll behave!"

"I doubt that," he said, not pausing the spanking for a second. "And I decide when this spanking is over, young lady. Not you."

The heat in her behind was getting unbearable before he let her off his lap. She reached back, trying to rub the incredible sting away, but he slapped her hands away. "Oh no. We're nowhere near done with your punishment."

She gasped. He couldn't be thinking of spanking her MORE?

He pushed her towards the corner, grabbing her hands and placing them on her head. "I want you to stay here, nose in the corner, until the otherwise. Don't try to speak, turn around, or rub your bottom," he told her. "You won't like the consequences."

She wanted to protest as he grabbed her panties, pulling them down to her knees, but a had a feeling it would be a bad idea at the moment.

"And while you're here," he growled, "I want you to think about how I felt, when I came home from work, and realized that you were out in the storm, when feared I could lose you forever because that stupid little head of yours can't grasp basic concepts of danger." He shook his head. "Well, I'm going to teach you to watch yourself, if I have to spank you every day for a year."

She cried to herself as the faced the corner. She hadn't thought about how he'd feel.


She squirmed around as she stood in the corner, knowing that he was sitting on the couch, watching her every move. Watching her stand there, red arse on display. She'd been here for almost twenty minutes, with nothing to do but stand there and think, and it was getting boring. On the other hand, he'd promised her more – meaning that the second she got out of the corner, she was going back over his knee. She wasn't sure whether she wanted to get it over with, or stay where she was forever.

After thirty minutes of corner time, he called her over. She walked over to him on shaky legs. "Bend over my knee," he said, patting his lap. "It's time to finish your spanking."

She lowered herself over his lap, scared of what was to come, but even more scared of the consequences of disobeying. She'd never thought her gentle giant of a boyfriend would spank her like this.

She cried out as the spanking continued, and her bottom, which had almost cooled while she was standing in the corner, was quickly heated up again.

When her backside was bright red and blistered, he helped the sobbing girl up, clutching her in his arms. She was there. She was safe. And if she ever endangered herself like that again, he was going to wear out her bottom to show her the error of her ways.

Camera (F/M story)

"Do you honestly think we couldn't see you?"

Mark looked up. A tall, intimidating blonde had stepped over to him, glaring at him.

"Excuse me?" he said, trying to seem innocent.

She pointed at his bag. "The camera in your bag? Do you honestly think we haven't seen you following us, trying to film our asses?"

She'd seen him. That wasn't good. "I don't know what you're talking about."

She slapped his face. Hard. "You're already in a world of trouble, young man, so I suggest you don't make it worse for yourself."

"Okay, okay," he said, stepping back while rubbing his sore cheek.

"So, here's what's going to happen. Either you come with me, and me and my friend will make you sorry you ever misbehaved. Or, we call the police. I don't think they'll be kind to a pervert like you. What do you say? The Justice system, or MY Justice?"

"What would your justice entail?"

She stepped forward, leaned in and whispered: "Well, I take you over my knee and spank you. A good, long spanking to make you good and sorry. Does that answer your question?"

He nodded.

"Now, answer mine. Which do you want?"

"I'll take your punishment."

"Good. Pick up your bag and follow me."

As he followed the blonde's beautiful backside, Mark positioned the bag as best he could. It was an excellent opportunity to get some first-class footage, and he wasn't wasting it.

They entered a small, white house. Inside was a brunette, just as big and strong as her blonde friend.

"Hey Janet, you know he was filming you while you were walking here, right?"

The blonde turned to Mark, an amused look on her face. "I guess he's even more naughty than we thought, still trying to dig his hole deeper."

Janet sat down in a straight wooden chair nearby. "Okay, pervert, here's what's going to happen. I'm going to bare your bottom and take you over my knee. Then, I'm going to spank your bare bottom until you can't sit down for a week. While this is happening, Sara..." she nodded at her friend, "is going to hold your camera and film it all. Any questions?"

He shook his head.

"Good. Come over here." She grabbed his trousers and underpants, pulling them down in one movement. His erection bobbed up and down. Janet reached forward, grabbing it. "Well, well, well. Look at this. Are you looking forward to going over my knee, pervert? Are you hoping for a little spanking fun?" She grabbed his arm and pulled him over her knee. "Well, your luck is out, because this is going to be a LONG, HARD spanking, and it's not going to be fun. Well, at least not for you."

The first few smacks landed, and Mark was shocked by the sting. "Hey, that hurts!"

"It's a punishment. It's supposed to hurt." A series of smacks to his sit spots, causing him to cry out in pain. "I don't know why you're so surprised. I promised you a good, painful spanking. I'm giving you a good, painful spanking. Why the surprise?"

Mark was determined not to let her see how much it hurt, but to his humiliation, he could feel tears running down his cheeks.

"Hey, Sara, getting good footage?"

"Plenty. High-quality camera, too. Too good to belong to this pervert, really."

"Can you get some good footage of his face as I spank him?"

The brunette kneeled in front of Mark, sticking the camera in his face.

"Now, pervert, tell the camera how sorry you are."

"I'm really, really sorry," he said between sobs.

"Aw, has the little crybaby got a sore bottom already?" She reached one hand under his waist, grabbing his penis. "And you're not erect any more. I guess this isn't as much fun as you'd hoped. I can't tell you how happy I am for that."

And with that, the smacks came harder and faster, and Mark was begging to be let off. Finally, after what seemed like forever, she lifted him up and placed him on his feet.

"Now, stand in this corner, facing inwards and hands on your head. If you move, it's back across my knee. Is that understood?"

"Yes, ma'am."

After what seemed like hours, he heard Janet's voice. "Hey, pervert, you can come out now. We got some decent footage of your red butt in the corner, but we need you to face the camera, tell us you're sorry, and that you won't do it again." Mark hesitated. "Or we could give you another five minutes over my knee first. That colour in your cheeks is starting to fade."

Mark hurriedly finished his apology. Sara took out the tape, returning the camera to Mark. "Now brat, if we find you perving out like this again, we'll invite a few of our friends, and take you in turns. Is that understood?"

Mark nodded.

"Good. Now, get dressed and get out."

Mark stepped out on the city streets, going home to find some ice.

A paddling due (M/F story)

Michelle took a few deep breaths, trying to calm her nerves. She was about to tell Peter, a lovely man she'd been dating for just a short while, something she'd never told anyone about, something that had been her dark little secret for more than a decade. She felt a bond with him, like she'd never felt with anyone before, and she wanted him to know everything about her. Even the ones that rarely saw daylight. Her nerves calmed, and she told him about the time she wasn't paddled.

"There were four of us, that day in high school." she explained. "Caroline, Helen, Janet and me. They were the cool kids, the girls that always got into trouble. I tagged along a few times, but wasn't really one of the gang. Even though I wished it."

She smiled to herself as the memories washed over her, of friends she'd long since lost contact with. "On that day, Helen had got her hands on a pack of cigarettes. She probably got them from her older sister – she saw it as her duty to corrupt the young ones. Someone had to do it, after all."

"And you smoked them?" he asked.

She shrugged. "We tried to. We hid in one of the bathrooms during lunch, and were sure we wouldn't be caught. We were, of course. The teachers were quite aware that if anyone got into any mischief, it would most likely be during the lunch break, so they made regular patrols. One of the teachers found us crammed into one of the stalls, and we were hauled off to the Head Mistress's office."

She was staring off into space, lost in the memories. "I was more scared than you could imagine. The others had been there dozens of times before, but it was the first time I was really in trouble. What you imagine in your head is often scarier than the reality.

She was lecturing us about the dangers of smoking, and about how the school rules were there for our protection, or some nonsense like that." She shrugged. "I wasn't really paying attention. You see, on the wall behind her, hanging proudly, was the school paddle. I'd heard the tales, but I'd never seen it myself. It was incredibly scary, especially since I knew it was likely she'd use it.

As her little lecture ended, it was becoming apparent that she was actually planning to use the paddle on us. The thought of bending over her desk, sticking my bare little bottom out while she used the paddle on it.... I grew light-headed, and wanted to run far away. But then she looked at me and told me I wouldn't be paddled."

"Why not?"

She smiled. "I'd never been in trouble before, and she knew I wasn't really part of the gang. She guessed I had been persuaded to do it, and hoped that watching the others being paddled would be enough to make me behave. Make me fear the paddle, and fear being in trouble.

One by one, I watched my friends bare their bottoms, bend over the desk, and squeal in pain as the Head Mistress paddled them. They squirmed quite a bit, I'll tell you."

He looked distant for a second, a grin on his face. "I can imagine."

She pouted. "Well, stop it, then. Anyway, that was sort of the end of our group. I still hung out with them, but we were never friends in the same way as before. I hadn't been punished, you know? I got off while they were paddled, and they resented that. Never quite the same." She sighed. "But somehow, I still find myself thinking about it so often."

"About what?"

"About being in that room, looking at that paddle and thinking of having it applied to my backside. About being bent over that desk while I squeal in pain, squirming around as I pay for my misdeeds. I should have been punished with them."

He sat there, silently thinking. "There's something else, isn't there," he said at last. "You don't just need to be paddled. You want it, don't you? There is some part of you, some voice in your head, that actually WANTS to feel the wood of the paddle on your bottom." She didn't say anything, but he could see in her eyes that he'd hit closer to the mark than she would have liked.


It was a Friday afternoon, just a few days after she had shared her little memory with Peter, and she could scarcely believe what was happening. She was standing outside his study, dressed in a pair of tight jeans and a somewhat modest blouse, about to step inside for a paddling. He'd promised to give her what she'd dreamt of all these years, to scratch that never seemed to go away, no matter how hard she had wanted it to.

"Come in."

On shaking knees, she entered. Peter was wearing a nice suit, looking more authoritative than she'd ever seen him. On the desk in front of him was a big wooden paddle. She wouldn't even try to guess where he'd gotten it.

"Now, young lady, I understand that you got caught smoking recently."

"Yes, sir." Standing there, looking at that paddle as he started to lecture her.... She could feel herself growing wet.

"And the Head Mistress didn't paddle you for this transgression?"

"No, sir."

"Well, I'm afraid that won't do, young lady. We can't have girls breaking the rules and not get punished for it. So today, I'm going to give you the paddling the Head Mistress SHOULD have given you."

"But sir, I'm sorry!"

"You'll be a lot sorrier before we're done, I can promise you that." He stood up, picking up the paddle and tapping it against his palm. "Lower your trousers."

With shaking hands, she undid the button on her jeans, lowering them to her knees. At his command, her panties followed. She trembled as she stood there, naked from the waist down, waiting for him to tell her to bend over and stick her bottom out. She didn't have to wait long.

"Now, I'm hoping you'll learn your lesson from this," he told her as he patted the paddle against her quivering rear end. "I'd hate to have to do it again." He swung the paddle.

Michelle cried out in pain as the hard wood of the paddle slammed into her cheeks, followed by a similar stroke seconds later. In all her years of imagining this moment, she'd never quite realized how much it HURT!

Her hands clutched the far side of the desk as the paddling continued, and she tried to stop herself from reaching back. The heat from the paddling spread through her, and she groaned with every stroke from the blasted piece of wood. Soon, tears were rolling down her cheeks, and she knew she wouldn't sit comfortably for quite some time.

Then, after what seemed like an eternity for her, he put the paddle down and helped her to her feet. She cried into his shirt as he held her close, telling her what a brave girl she'd been. They stood there, embracing, as the pain from the paddling shook through her.

After work (M/F story)

She stomped into the house, slamming the door on her way in. He concluded that his girlfriend's workday had been even more unpleasant than usual.

She stepped over to where he was sitting with his book, standing there scowling at him, hands crossed in front of her chest. "Do you have any idea how difficult it was to do my job today?"

"You know, usually 'Hello' is the first thing someone says when they come home."

She smiled as false a smile as she could, her voice dripping with sarcasm. "Hello, dear." The smile vanished. "Now, do you know how difficult it was to do my job today?"

"Hello, sweetie. Harder than usual, I suspect?"

"You're right. And do you know why?" He shook his head. "Because I had to do it all on a spanked bottom!" she yelled.

He stayed silent for a few seconds. "Quick advice: if you're as adamant as ever than no one finds out about your spankings, you shouldn't yell things like that loud enough for the neighbours to hear. But take it easy, I'm sure they're open-minded."

Her face blushed red, and it took her a few seconds to regain her composure – and her annoyance. "Do you have any idea how hard it is to focus on your work when you've got a red, throbbing bottom?"

"Not really. I'm not as familiar with that side of the paddle as you are."

"Sure, laugh it off. I'm serious, all I could think about today was that spanking you gave me this morning."

He sighed, leaning back in the chair. "Did you, or did you not, oversleep today, making yourself late for work?"

"I did," she admitted.

"And did we, or did we not, agree that I would spank you on those occasions, to make sure you stopped that bad habit?"

"But I didn't think you'd do it in the morning!"

"That's when you usually are late getting up, isn't it? You're rarely running around screaming 'Oh no, I overslept' in the evening."

"What I meant was," she said through gritted teeth, "that if I overslept that morning, you would take me over your knee and give me a small spanking."

"My way's better. That way, your offence is fresh in mind, and it's easier to connect it to your sore bottom."

"Also," she continued as if she hadn't heard him, "I think you're spanking me too hard. I said a SMALL spanking, and now my bottom's all red and sore."

"It's a spanking, it's supposed to be. And that WAS a small spanking. I can give you much larger, much harder spankings, believe me."

"Do you know how many funny looks I got as I eased myself into the chair at lunch? I can't even IMAGINE what they're thinking!"

"I've been very patient with you until now, but consider this: shouting at the man who spanked your bottom just a few hours previously is a good way to brat yourself into a second helping. Just saying."

"Shut up, you bastard!"

His hand shot forward and grabbed her wrist. "Okay, if you want it that badly..."

He pulled the struggling woman over his lap, wondering how many of these he would have to give her before she learned to behave. He had a feeling it would be a lot more than she would prefer.

Spanking at work (F/F story)

"You wanted to see me, Mrs. Landis?" Alice said, her voice betraying how nervous she was.

Kate Landis looked up at her young employee. Alice was short, with dark skin, dark hair, and light brown eyes, with a pair of tight jeans and a tight shirt, both of which showed off her admirable figure. She was biting her lip, her eyes slightly moist. Well, they would be a lot moister very, very soon.

"I think you know why you're here, don't you, Alice?" Mrs. Landis said. "You work hard, but you have a tendency to become careless." She held up the reports Alice had handed in earlier in the day, tapping her pen against some of the more eye-catching mistakes. "This just won't do, Alice."

"I'll do better, Mrs. Landis, I promise!" Alice pleaded.

"You say that, Alice, but as long as you've worked here, the only time I see any lasting improvement in your work, is when you're doing it on a sore, well-spanked bottom."

Alice stared at the floor. The words had been said. There was no avoiding it now.

Mrs. Landis picked up her chair, placing it in the middle of the room before patting her lap. "Come here."

Alice undid her jeans, wriggling them down to her feet, with her panties going the same way. She leaned forward, placing herself over her employer's knees as if she'd done this dozens of times – which, by now, she had.

"I don't want to do this, Alice," Mrs. Landis said, patting the dark cheeks in front of her, "But you leave me no choice."

As the first smacks rang out into the room, Mrs. Landis was once again struck by the absurdity of the situation. Alice was in almost every respect a grown woman, and yet, she was over her boss's knees with her rear end in the air, getting a spanking from her employer. But then again, what was she supposed to do? This was the only way to get any improvement out of the girl.

At this point, she couldn't even remember how it had started, but she was still amazed by the result. A quick bottom-warming – though it probably felt like a year for the poor girl – and her work was faultless for a few weeks, sometimes a month. Sooner or later, though, her old habits would return, to be banished by Mrs. Landis's stinging palm.

Alice was crying openly as Mrs. Landis covered her bottom with hard, loud smacks, slowly turning her dark cheeks red and sore. Alice knew she'd have trouble sitting for the rest of the day, and would still feel it at the weekend.

Finally, Mrs. Landis felt that the girl had received enough, patting her back and telling her it was over. Alice stood in place, rubbing her cheeks while trying to preserve what remained of her dignity, though every fibre in her being wanted to jump from foot to foot in that weird spanking dance that every naughty girl instinctively knows.

Mrs. Landis gave her a hug to tell her she was forgiven, and sat down at her desk again. "Try harder in the future, won't you, Alice?"

"I will, Mrs. Landis," Alice said, hissing with pain as the rough fabric of her jeans touched her stinging bottom. Mrs. Landis didn't understand why the girl didn't wear skirts – that seemed like an easy way of avoiding that problem. Fashion of the youth, she supposed.

As she left her boss's office, Alice could no longer hide her smile as she reached back to rub her glowing cheeks. She still considered manipulating her boss into spanking her, without her realizing she was being manipulated, one of her more skilful moves.

Though, she had to admit, it wasn't nice of her to trick people like that. She would have to tell her girlfriend, and she would think up some suitable punishment.

She grinned. Perhaps some corner time and a taste of the cane would teach her to behave.

A christmas spanking (M/F story)

Nicky glanced around the corner, looking hungrily at the Christmas tree, and even more at the presents beneath. She giggled. A childish sound, but considering that she was currently dressed in a pink pyjamas and had her black hair in pigtails, it was oddly fitting. She felt almost like a child again. And soon, something was going to happen that was going to make her feel even more like a child. She licked her lips. She couldn't wait.

She tiptoed over to the tree, picking out one of the presents and started to open it. She wasn't supposed to open them before tomorrow, but that was OK, she was just going to have a quick peek.

She'd just peeled back the wrapping paper to glance at the CD underneath when a strict voice behind her made her jump three feet in the air. "What do you think you are doing, young lady?"

Greg did his best to put on his strictest face, glaring at his girlfriend as she stood before him, squirming and unable to look him in the eyes. "That was a very naughty thing to do," he said, continuing to lecture her. He considered it quite a good lecture. But then again, with a few variations, he delivered the same lecture every year.

"You're getting a spanking," he said at last. She opened her mouth as if to protest, but a quick glare from him convinced her otherwise. He grabbed her arm, dragging her over to the couch before pulling her over his knee. Her pyjamas bottoms were pulled down to her knees, with her panties following soon afterwards, and he placed his hand on her pale, quivering cheeks.

That was one of their little games; every year, she'd sneak down and peek at her presents, and every year, he'd catch her, lecture her, and spank her. He knew she was reliving something she'd seen in a film, one she'd seen when she was young and impressionable and not quite aware of her spanko desires.

To be honest, he didn't particularly care why she wanted him to do it. All he knew was that it was by far his favourite Christmas tradition.

His hand crashed down on her bottom, and she cried out as the smacks kept landing on her unprotected posterior. Soon, she was kicking her legs, and tears were already rolling down her cheeks. He knew that she reacted much more strongly to her spankings around Christmas, as if the tradition of the whole affair connected to her childhood and made her less prepared for the sting of his hand. She could shrug off hard spankings most of the year, but a spanking under the tree and she was bawling her eyes out.

Not that he was going to go easy on her, of course. She'd never forgive him if he did.

The once-pale cheeks were rapidly turning red under his palm as Nicky squirmed around, and he had to put his hand around her waist to hold her in place. She was sobbing loudly into the pillow, kicking her legs as if trying to run away from the sting.

Then, once he was satisfied with the colour of her bottom, he let her up, giving her a long hug as she sobbed into his shirt. Once she'd calmed down a bit, he guided her over to the corner.

"Nose in the corner," he told her. "If I catch you rubbing, you'll regret it."

He took a second to enjoy the sight of the bright red bottom in the corner before heading into the kitchen to start breakfast. He was already looking forward to watching her squirm around in her seat as she sat down to eat, knowing he wouldn't let her eat it standing up.

Helping the exchange student (M/F story)

I was sitting on my room, most of my attention focused on the PlayStation, when I heard the car start and my parents drive off for their night on the town. Moments later, Clarissa entered my room, sitting cross-legged beside me on the bed with a look on her face that revealed that she wanted someone to complain to.

“They said no, once again,” she said as she pouted. Shaking her head, she looked at me. “Tom, I just don't know why your parents won't spank me.”

Clarissa was a foreign exchange student, two years older than me, that had lived with us for a little less than a month now. She was doing well in school, but last week, she'd gotten a test she hadn't been quite prepared for, and her grade had matched that. But when she got home with it, she'd asked my parents to spank her. She told us she'd always been disciplined like that at home, and she had expected the same arrangement here – a quick, painful punishment to wipe the slate and teach her a lesson at the same time. My parents were shocked; they'd never spanked me or my sister, though they'd given us the occasional smack when we were unruly, and they certainly weren't planning on using corporal punishment on the teenager that was staying here. But she'd had trouble taking 'no' for an answer.

“Who knows?” I said, trying to be vague. Ever since she'd brought the subject up to my parents, the mental image of the cute girl bare-bottomed over someone's lap, her backside wriggling under the firm smacks delivered to it, had taken up a sizeable portion of my thoughts, and I found it somewhat distracting. To stop myself from saying anything too inappropriate, I focused my attention on the PlayStation game instead.

“Can I join?” she asked, nodding towards the TV.

“Sure,” I said. The other controller was lying on the floor on the other side of the bed, so she bent over, her head down towards the floor while her voluptuous rear end in tight jeans was turned towards me. Once again, my mind was off the PlayStation. I felt an overpowering urge to lean forward and give the inviting target a good slap or two.

“You know, I would be happy to give that butt a good spanking,” I found myself saying before I could stop myself.

She spun around to face me, gasping, and I winced, expecting a firm slap to the face. But instead, after a few terrifying seconds, she smiled. “That's a good idea,” she said. “Would you do that for me?”

Now it was my turn to stare in shock. 'That's a good idea' was not the reaction I'd expected from that comment, but the relieved look on her face told me that she was completely serious. “Would you really give me the spanking I need?” she asked me, seeming worried that I might say no. There was very little chance of THAT happening. When life presents you with an opportunity like this, you grab it, so I nodded.

She stood up, looking around. “Where do you want me?” It was quite clear that she wanted to start right away.

I was by no means an expert in this subject, but had a rough idea from popular culture, so I sat on the edge of the bed and patted my lap. “Over my knee, Clarissa.”

Instead of simply placing herself over my lap, as I had thought, she instead started to unzip her jeans, wriggling them town to her hips. It was clear that she didn't want a few slaps to the seat of her jeans – she was expecting a proper spanking. I wasn't entirely sure how to deliver that, but I was going to have a lot of fun experimenting.

She placed herself over my lap, her head on my pillow and her backside on my thigh, and my eyes feasted on the round, pale cheeks that were presented, only protected by thin pair of white cotton panties. I could feel my erection was rubbing up against her stomach, but she didn't comment – hopefully, she hadn't noticed.

I placed my right hand on her cheek, enjoying the soft flesh against my palm, before lifting it and delivering the first smack. The sound rang out in the silent room, and for a brief moment, I could see the pink imprint of my hand on her rear end, before it vanished. I lifted my hand again, delivering a dozen more smacks, but Clarissa neither moved nor made a sound. This was probably going to take a while, and I was going to love every second.

I soon felt into a rhythm, spanking one cheek, then the next, delivering about two slaps a second. Soon, she gave the occasional “ouch” every time my hand landed on her sit spots, and her posterior was slowly turning a delightful shade of pink.

After a while, I rested my hand on her backside, rubbing and squeezing it gently. I was unsure of how much discipline she was expecting, and I didn't want to test my luck too much – if possible, I would love to do this again another time, and I couldn't do that if she didn't trust me.

She whimpered. “Tom, you don't HAVE to pull my panties down for the rest! I'm learning my lesson, I promise.”

Once again, I had to thank my lucky stars. She thought I had just paused the spanking to lower her panties, and, while that hadn't been my intention, now it was all I could think about. “Can you tell me that you don't deserve a bare-bottom punishment?” Her only response was a whimper, so I placed my thumbs in the waistband of the cotton panties, and they joined her jeans at her ankles.

As I continued the spanking, she kept her legs pressed firmly against one another, probably to ensure that I didn't see more of her than I needed, but soon, the pain that was slowly building up in her backside made her kick her legs, giving me ample flashes of everything.

“I hope you're learning your lesson from this,” I said, as strictly as I could. I had never lectured anyone before, but I was learning fast. “You're capable of doing so well in school, and I know we can expect more from you. I don't want to do this again.” That last part was a lie, but I felt that 'I want to do this every day for the rest of my life' wouldn't be as appropriate for a spanking lecture.

Tears were rolling down her cheeks now, and she looked really sorry. After a few last smacks to her sit spots, I stopped the spanking, rubbing her cheeks to let her know that she was forgiven. Her backside was now bright pink, almost turning red, and I had a feeling that she wouldn't sit comfortably for a while.

She sat up, giving me a hug as she thanked me for being there for her when she needed me. I told her that I would help her anytime she needed me, but that she shouldn't say anything about this to anyone, least of all my parents – this was a private punishment, and not anyone else's business. She agreed to keep quiet.

Rising to her feet, she pulled her panties up, and then looked at her trousers. Knowing that the tight jeans would be hell on her sore bottom, she instead chose to step out of them, folding them up and placing them on my desk.

Drying the last tears from the corners of her eyes, she nodded towards the television. “You died.”

I looked at the screen. She was right – I hadn't paused the game. And for the last few minutes, my mind had been focused on something quite different than the PlayStation.

“Two-player?” she suggested as she sat next to me, picking up the second controller.

“Sure,” I said. Though considering that she was sitting on a freshly-spanked backside, and that I was sitting next to a shapely, good-looking girl with no trousers on, I don't think we focused as much on the game as we normally would.

Unexpected (F/M story)

He knew he'd said too much. Aiden had always had a mouth quicker than his brain, and he'd gotten in trouble for it more than once. But he couldn't think of anyone he'd insulted quite like he'd insulted his girlfriend now.

It'd been two days, and he could tell she was still really upset. Eve was usually quite forgiving, but he had a feeling this could be the end of their relationship. But he wasn't going to let that happen without doing his best to fix it.

"Listen, Eve, I'm sorry about it. Really, I am." She glared at him, but didn't respond. He sighed. "What can I do to convince you I'm sorry? I'll do anything, name it."

She looked him up and down, as if judging him. "There's only one thing that'll make me feel better about your apology."

"Name it," he told her.

She glanced over at the wall, unable to stomach the sight of him any longer. "You've hurt me, hurt me deeply, and you're going to pay for that the old-fashioned way." She looked at him again. "With a good, old-fashioned spanking."

You could have heard a pin drop in the silence that followed. "Sorry?" he said at last.

"You heard me. That's your only option. You either go to the bedroom, remove your trousers, and go stand in the corner until I come to put you over my knee, or you pack your bags and get the hell out."

There was no real choice there.

He placed his trousers on the bed, shivering a little in the cold of the bedroom. He faced the corner, thinking about what was going to happen. A spanking! He hadn't been spanked in years, since that time he was twelve and decided to test whether his sister's bicycle would float.

And now his girlfriend was going to take him over her lap. Would it hurt? Ordinarily, he wouldn't have thought her capable of really causing him pain, but he knew she would be pretty upset.

"Have you thought about your actions?" she said as he entered the room.

"Yes, Eve. I have," he said as he turned to face her. His eyes widened a little as he spotted the large wooden hairbrush in her hand. His mother had owned one quite like it.

She sat down on the bed, crooking her finger at him to come closer. He walked towards her, legs beginning to get weak. She hooked her fingers into the waistband of his boxers, pulling them down to his knees. He blushed a little; he'd been naked in front of her before, plenty of times, but never quite like this.

She patted her lap. "Come here."

He lowered himself over her lap, and flinched a little as she began rubbing his bottom with the brush. "Are you ready for this?"

Not really, he thought to himself. But there was no point in wasting any more time. "I'm ready."

The first few smacks took him by surprise; it had been quite a while since he'd been spanked, and the years had drove all memory of the pain away. Now, however, it all came flooding back.

He kicked his legs a little.

"Settle down, or I'll miss," she told him.

"But it hurts!"

"That's the whole point," she responded. She tightened her grip on him; he wasn't getting away until she was done.

When she finally put the brush down, telling him to get up, his bottom felt like it was on fire. He jumped to his feet, trying in vain to rub the sting away. Eve suddenly realized that he had an erection.

"What's this?" she giggled. "Did you enjoy having your bottom smacked, Aiden?"

He blushed. There was no denying it.

She smiled up at him. "Well, baby, maybe we'll repeat this next weekend, when your bottom has had a while to recover."

She looked down at her jeans, noticing the wet spot on her tight.

"Remind me to wear something OTHER than my best jeans," she said, clucking disapprovingly.

The Skirt (M/F story)

I leaned my head back, letting the hot sunlight wash over me, basking in its glow. It was a hot spring day, and I was heading down-town; my girlfriend had finished work for today, and I wanted to surprise her by taking her to the cinema. We would find a small café, enjoying a coffee as we enjoyed the beautiful day.

But for some reason, things rarely go the way you want them to.

As I neared the small shop were Jessica worked, a young woman exited the shop. A short brunette, wearing high heels, a tight blouse and a short, pink skirt that left very little to the imagination. That was Jessica. The problem was, those clothes didn't even resemble the clothes she had left the house in this morning.

She didn't see me, as she was heading for the parking lot, and I had approached the shop from the other side. I followed her closely, my anger rising every second. When she got close to the car, she dropped some of the papers she was carrying to the ground, and she slowly bent over to pick them up, making the short skirt rise even higher. Her white panties were now on display to everyone in the street, and I had lost my patience. I lifted my hand and smacked the exposed cheeks.

Jessica yelped and spun around, ready to slap whomever was taking liberties with her. When she saw my angry face, however, her indignation was replaced with fear and a bit of guilt. She rubbed her rear with one hand while she looked around, hoping that no one had witnessed what had just happened. No such luck. Some girls were looking at us from a few streets away, and a teenager across the street was studying us with a grin on his face.

“We're going home,” I told her. And that was the end of the conversation. She knew she was in trouble, she knew what I was going to do, and she knew there was nothing she could say or do to persuade me, so she just nodded. We headed over to her car, and she handed me the keys. Most of the time, Jessica would drive wherever we were going, but prior to a punishment, I was in charge in any way. As I got into the car, I glanced into the back seat and saw the clothing that she had worn when she left the house. She had obviously changed in the car. She was devious, I would have to give her that.

When we got home, I told her to go stand in the corner in the living-room. She knew better than to argue. I headed up to the bedroom to collect something. When I got back to the living-room, I was delighted to see Jessica stand in the corner, hands on her head, just as she was supposed to before a punishment. I put the item I had collected, down on the coffee table. I then sat down in the couch, studying the grown woman in the corner. I let her stand there for fifteen minutes before I called her over.

When Jessica turned around, the first thing she saw was the small ping-pong paddle on the table. Her pleading eyes turned to me, but I waved at her to stand next to me. I then asked her what I was about to do to her.

“You're going to turn me over your knee and spank me.” She said it as calmly as she could, but I could see the nervousness in her eyes.

“And why is that?” She hated these pre-spanking questions, which was the main reason I asked them. The other reason was that I really wanted her to know exactly why I was spanking her. If she didn't, the whole thing was ineffective, not to mention cruel.

“Because I dressed provocatively,” she replied, still trying to keep her voice steady.

“That's not the issue, Jessica,” I told her. “You're a grown woman, and my problem isn't the short skirt or anything like that.  My problem is that you hid it, you pretended to dress differently. In essence, you lied to me. You acted like a child, and that's why I'm treating you like one.” I patted my lap to signal that the conversation was over. She slowly leaned over, laying her body across the couch and burrowing her face in the cushions, and I flipped the short skirt up.

I started the spanking slowly, but the smacks were hard, and Jessica was “Ow”-ing at every single one. I didn't lecture her; the time for talking was over. I just lifted my hand and brought it down on the panty-covered cheeks in front of me.

Gradually the speed of the spanking increased, and soon, tears were silently rolling down her face, wetting the cushions. Her cheeks had by now turned lightly pink, and I concentrated on her sit spots. She started kicking her legs, and it was clear that she found it very uncomfortable.

I spanked on until her bottom was a light pink colour, warm and presumably stinging like crazy. I rubbed her bottom slightly, before I started taking off her skirt. I then put the skirt in front of her face.

“See that skirt? Your bare bottom is about to be that pink.” I pulled off her panties and picked up the ping-pong paddle. Jessica buried her face in the cushion again to prepare herself for what was to come.

I stepped up the spanking now, moving the paddle from cheek to cheek as quickly as possible. Jessica was sobbing loudly, promising me the world if I would spare her bottom. I didn't. I moved the paddle up and down her bottom, moving to the sit spots, painting her entire rear a deep pink.

When I was satisfied that her bottom was as pink as I had promised her, I put the paddle down and sat her on my lap. She leaned her head into my chest, crying into my shirt.

When she stopped crying, she rose to her feet, rubbing her bottom while glancing over her shoulder to look at the pink colour. I stood up, placed my arms around her and gave her a kiss.

“Now Jessica, do you know what I was doing down-town today?” She shook her head. “I wanted to know if you wanted to go to a café and sit and enjoy the sun.” I pointed out the window. “There's still time if you want.”

She smiled warmly at me, safe in the knowledge that she was forgiven. “Sure, let me just dry my tears and pick up a skirt.”

“There's one right here,” I pointed out.

She grimaced at me. “I don't think I want to show off my bottom right now, thanks.”

I smiled.

What's it like (f/f story)

Catherine hissed as she sat down, her sore bottom telling her to remain standing.

"Spanked again, huh?" Diane asked her.

"Yes," Catherine replied, her tone revealing she didn't want to talk about it.

Diane either didn't catch it, or didn't care. "What for?"

"Grades."

The girls were in Diane's room, planning to watch TV for a few hours, thinking of going shopping later – more or less the average fourteen-year-old girls.

"Mom or dad?"

"Dad."

"Did he use his hand?"

"Brush." Catherine was still telling her wordlessly that she didn't want to talk about it, and Diane was still not getting it.

"Did it hurt?"

"What do you think!?" she yelled.

"Don't be so upset, I was just asking," Diane said, wounded at the tone in her friend's voice.

"Well, I don't want to talk about it," Catherine said, realizing that Diane wasn't going to get her poorly disguised hints.

"It's just, you know, I'm curious."

"I know."

"Because I've never been spanked."

"I know," Catherine said bitterly.

For a few seconds, neither of them said anything. Diane broke the silence. "Can I see it?"

"What?"

"Your bottom. Can I see it?"

Catherine sighed. She had hoped a visit to Diane would take her mind AWAY from her sore bottom. "Okay, if it'll make you stop hounding me." She laid on her stomach on the bed, raising her skirt. She never wore trousers after a spanking.

As she lowered her panties, she heard Diane gasping. She turned her head around. It really did look quite awful, red and bruised as it was. "Happy now? Can I get dressed?"

"Not yet."

Catherine sighed. What had gotten into her friend? Diane reached forward, prodding the marked flesh with her finger. Catherine hissed in pain.

"It must be really sore," Diane said finally.

"Really? I hadn't noticed," Catherine said, her voice dripping with sarcasm.

"There's no reason to be rude."

"Yes there is! My grades are horrible, my parents are angry with me, my butt hurts like crazy, and my best friend, who SHOULD be keeping me distracted, can't focus on anything other than my spanked bottom."

"I was just asking."

Catherine rose to her feet, getting dressed again. "Well, don't."

"I just wanted you to tell me what a spanking feels like. I've never had one, and I'm curious."

"I could always give you one, that'll satisfy your curiosity," Catherine replied.

"Would you? That would be great!"

Catherine stood there for a while, with her mouth wide open. She studied Diane's expression for any clue that she might be joking, but she found nothing. "You're serious? You want me to spank you?"

"Yeah. Come on, it's perfect. I'm curious, and you've had so many of them, you probably know how to give one too."

"Well, I'm glad my agony can be of use to you. That makes it all worth it," she said, sarcasm so thick you could cut it with a knife.

"Aw, come on, Catherine, don't be like that." She pouted.

"Well, you're being loopier than usual, but I'll humour you. First, make sure your parents aren't home."

"Why?"

"Because if they hear what's going on, and come running, they'll tell my parents, and my dad will probably use his belt on me," she said, slowly, as if talking to an unusually stupid dog. "I don't want the belt. It hurts."

"They're at work. They won't be home for hours."

Catherine pointed at the door. "Go. Check. Make ABSOLUTELY SURE." As Diane turned to leave, Catherine propelled her with a smack to the seat of her skirt. Given the situation, it felt oddly appropriate. Diane giggled, and left.

She came back a few minutes later. "No one's home."

"You're absolutely sure? Because if I get in trouble because of this, I won't speak to you again." She glared at her friend. "EVER!"

"You won't get in trouble for this, I promise."

Catherine sighed. "Well, no time like the present."

"And you'll give me a spanking? A REAL spanking, like the ones you get?"

"As close as I can." She opened Diane's backpack, pulling out her pencil case.

"What are you looking for?" Diane asked, leaning forward quizzically.

"This," she replied, holding up a small, but sturdy wooden ruler, smacking it against her palm.

"To use as an implement?"

"No, I really wanted to know how long my hand was. OF COURSE I'll use it as an implement!" She sat down on the bed, hissing as her bottom touched it, and patted her lap. "Now, lie down here."

She made sure Diane was lying comfortably on the bed before raising her skirt. As she took hold of her panties, ready to pull them down, Diane turned her head to look at her. "Is it really necessary to pull my panties down?"

"Well, let's see. They're called BARE-bottom spankings, what do you think?" She didn't wait for a reply, just pulled them down and revealed the pale, white cheeks of her un-spanked friend.

"Are you ready for this?"

"Sure. How bad could it be?"

Catherine left the ruler on the bed, saving it for later as she lifted her hand. She made sure the first few smacks were light, easing her friend into what was going to happen. Still, Diane made little "ooh"s and "aah"s, not used to stinging slaps on her posterior.

Gradually, the smacks became harder and harder, and Diane's bottom was slowly turning pink. At one point, Diane turned to look at her spanker, and Catherine was sure she could see tears in her eyes, but she was still smiling.

Soon, Catherine felt it was time to use the ruler. She picked up the small implement and patted it against her palm. "Ready for the next part of your spanking?"

"That wasn't it?"

"No, Diane. That was a warm-up, to make you ready for the ruler. This little thing, remember?"

Diane eyed it suspiciously, suddenly a lot less fond of it.

"Now, are you ready?"

"Sure, I guess."

The sound of the hard ruler against soft flesh rang out in the room. It didn't seem to hurt as much as the brush Catherine was familiar with, but it was a lot quicker, and the initial sting when it landed seemed quite convincing. After a minute or so, Diane was wriggling around like crazy.

Catherine put an arm around her friend's waist to keep her in place. "You know, you're a lot harder to hit if you won't lay still."

"But it hurts," she whined.

"I've been telling you that for years, but you've never quite believed me."

The once-pale bottom had begun to turn red, and tears were rolling down her cheeks before Diane asked her friend to stop. Deciding that it wasn't quite enough yet, Catherine added a dozen stinging slaps before letting her friend to her feet.

Diane stood for a while, rubbing her sore bottom before stepping over to the full-length mirror on the other wall. She turned around, studying her bottom in the mirror, and her face fell. When she turned towards Catherine, it was with betrayal in her eyes. "You lied to me!"

Catherine was rapidly running out of patience. "What?"

"You said you'd give me a real spanking, like the ones you get, but my bottom's nowhere as red as yours."

"I stopped because you TOLD me to stop. You've never been spanked before, but I have. You can't take one of my spankings."

"You don't know that. A TRUE friend would have kept her promise and kept going."

Diane was in no way the sharpest tool in the shed, but even she could tell she had gone too far by the look in Catherine's eyes. Diane tried to run past, but Catherine grabbed her wrist and pulled her over to the bed. Sitting down, she placed her struggling friend over her knees, caught her legs between her own, and held her arms out of the way. Diane was completely incapable of escaping from her stronger friend's lock, and Catherine was going to take advantage of that.

As she lifted the ruler over the quivering bottom under her, Catherine was determined to show her inexperienced friend what a real spanking was. For the first few smacks, all Diane could do was gasp in open-mouthed horror, all air driven from her body, and she forgot to scream until the fifteenth or sixteenth stroke.

As the spanking continued, Diane screamed, she pleaded, she cried, she threatened, and when all else failed, she apologized. Through her tears, he told her friend how sorry she was, how her eyes had been opened and she now realized Catherine's torment, and how she really, really, really wanted her to stop now. But all of it fell on deaf ears.

Catherine was working out her frustration on her friend's bare, defenceless bottom. Frustration after years of her best friend making light of her punishment, years of being friends with a privileged, spoiled brat who was never punished for her pranks, never had to be told to go to her room and wait with the big, heavy, brutal brush in her hands. Never had to be Catherine.

Finally, her friend's tears broke through her rage, and Catherine felt spent and shameful in a way she never had before. It took several minutes before Diane noticed that Catherine was no longer spanking her, but stroking her back to calm her down. When her sobbing was back under control, Diane rose to her feet.

"It huuuuurts," she cried as she jumped from foot to foot, wanting to rub her butt, but too afraid of touching it to do so.

"A real spanking. Just like you wanted," Catherine said quietly. She led her friend over to the mirror, turning her around so that she could see her bottom. "Look."

Diane looked, and gasped as she saw how red it was. That was her. The girl in the mirror with the big, red, throbbing bottom, that was her. Just like she had wanted.

"And look at this." Catherine flipped up her skirt and lowered her panties, standing next to her friend to compare. Their bottoms were more or less equally red and marked.

"I got a real spanking, just like you!" Diane said proudly. Catherine didn't have the heart to tell her that quite a lot of her redness had vanished since her hours-ago spanking.

"Catherine? I'm sorry." She didn't say anything else. She didn't have to.

"I know. I'm sorry too," Catherine said as she hugged her best friend.

"So what do you think," Catherine said as they sat down on the bed and turned on the television. "How was your first spanking?"

"It hurts. A lot," she pouted. She bit her lip nervously, as if she had more to say, but was afraid to do so. After a minute or so, she turned to her friend.

"Catherine? Can we do this again some time? Only not as... much," she hastened to clarify.

Catherine thought long and hard about this. That last spanking had brought out something dark and harmful within her, something that should perhaps stay buried. But before that.... when it was just two friends, playing around with a ruler, having fun...

"Sure, Diane. I'd like that, "she said and smiled at her friend.

They turned toward the television again.

Asking for a punishment (M/f story)

Kate had no idea how long she had been standing outside her older brother's door, too afraid to open the door and walk in. She was scared, and she felt she had good reason to be. She lifted her hand towards the door handle, and watched it tremble and fall to her side again. She was going to go into his room and tell him she wanted a spanking.

Well, wanted was not the right word. She had hated every single spanking she had ever gotten, and she didn't think she would feel any different about this one. They hurt, and they caused her to cry, nto mention how humiliating it was to have your older brother pull you over his knee and bare your bottom, before slapping it for a long, long, LONG time.

And she was about to go and ask for it. She really needed her head examined.

She noticed that she had opened the door and stepped into his room. Rich looked up from his book, and she could see he became quite worried when he saw how pale and nervous she was. "What's wrong?"

"I..." she said, but trailed off. She took a deep breath and tried again. "I'm not sure how to say it, but I think I need a spanking."

A few seconds passed as he just looked at her. He nodded towards the bed. "Sit down and tell me all about it."

She sat down. She choked on her words, so he sat down next to her and put his hand on her shoulder. She smiled gratefully at him. He always knew how to calm her down when she was upset.

Rich was feeling quite unsettled. He knew his sister could be quite melodramatic, and that this was probably not a serious, dangerous problem, put the possibility was there, and he didn't like it. "What's wrong?"

"You know Clarissa, right?"

"That dark-haired friend of yours?" he answered.

She nodded. "That's the one. The thing is, last week I borrowed one her CDs. One that she really, really liked."

He felt his heart rate decrease. If this was about a CD, then thankfully, it wasn't serious. "And?"

"Well, I was trying to get it out of the case when I kind of, sort of, accidentally... broke it."

"Have you told your friend?"

She nodded. "I told her yesterday, yeah. She got really upset, and said she would never speak to me again."

He tried to hide his smile. Kate and her friends told each other that just about once a week, and they always acted as if it was the end of the world. "So, how are you feeling?"

"Guilty," she responded. "I broke her favourite CD. My stomach hurts, and I can't stop thinking about it." She looked at him. "That's why I came here. I want you to remove the guilt."

"Which is why you asked for a spanking," he offered.

"Yeah," she said, blushing slightly. "Whenever I screw up, I feel really bad about it. Then you spank me, and it's like all my guilt vanishes. My butt hurts, sure, but my stomach doesn't. My head doesn't. My heart doesn't."

He nodded. "I see. Let me ask you a question. Do you remember a few months back, when you got caught shoplifting?"

She blushed. "Yes."

"When I got you home, what did I do?"

She blushed even deeper. "You pulled me over your knee and spanked my butt really, really hard," she said, pouting a little.

"And more importantly, what did you promise me?"

She thought back. "That I would never, ever earn another spanking," she said after a few seconds.

"And now you're in my room, asking for one."

"I told you, I feel really guilty," she said, squirming.

"You know what else will remove that guilt? You know what else will make you feel good about yourself?"

She shook her head.

"Apologizing. Why don't you call your friend and tell her that you're sorry? You must know how phones work; you never seem to put the darn thing down."

"What if she still hates me? What if she won't forgive me?"

He shrugged his shoulders. "That's what you already think, right? No harm done. On the other hand, if she IS willing to forgive you, then everything is fine. Worth a shot, right?"

She sat for a while, thinking. What he was saying, made sense. She could try calling Clarissa and apologizing. Why not?

"I can't," she told him. "I just can't. I'm too scared."

He sighed. "Look," he told her. "It was brave of you to come here and ask me for punishment. It was brave of you to admit you had done wrong. Now, I want you to use some of that bravery to call her."

She shook her head.

"If I spank you, that won't fix your CD OR your friendship. You'll still be sitting here worrying about your friend, but you'll do it with a sore bottom. Calling her won't fix your CD either, but it might fix the friendship."

She still shook her head. "Please," she said. "Just do it."

He sighed. "All right," he said. "If you really want me to spank you, go and get the bath brush."

Her face turned pale, and her eyes widened. "The brush? Can't you just spank me with your hand? Please, Rich, I don't like the brush. It stings like crazy."

"I won't do this unless I really believe you want it, Kate." He nodded towards the door. "Now, go out that door, and don't come back unless you're carrying either the brush or your phone."

He watched her get up on shaking knees and leave the room. She never seemed to remember just how much spankings hurt, just how much she cried while she was over his knee, just how earnestly she pleaded for the spanking could stop. He, on the other hand, could.

She entered the door, clutching the brush with both hands as if she was afraid it would fly up and attack her. He knew he hated it when she used that thing on her. It wouldn't be a good punishment tool if she didn't.

She handed him the brush, and he sat up on the bed, patting his lap. "Get those jeans down and get over here."

She started to pull down her tight jeans, wriggling her hips back and forth to get them down. Underneath, she was wearing a pair of light blue panties. Slowly, she stepped forward and leaned over his lap. He pulled her forward, positioning her to make sure her bottom was as high up as he could get it.

"A quick warm-up over your panties before I use the brush," he told her as he lifted his hand. "Unless you'd rather have the phone call?"

She shook her head, and he started the spanking.

Kate cried out as the first smacks landed against her bottom. She thought she'd been ready, but she wasn't. She never was.

Rich spanked hard and fast, moving from to cheek to cheek in a flurry of smacks. He preferred to get these punishments over with quickly; he didn't want to spank her any longer than necessary. "I want you to think about why you're being spanked, Kate. You've been careless with other people's possessions, and you're paying the price for it now."

She just whimpered, her head against the bed.

Before long, her bottom had turned a light pink, and he decided the warm-up was over. He pulled down her panties, rubbing her bottom to relieve some of the sting. He picked up the brush, patting it against her bottom.

"Are you ready for this?"

"Yes, Rich," she said, even though her voice revealed just how untrue that really was.

She cried out as the brush whistled through the air, slamming into her poor, unprotected bottom. Again and again, the brush landed, causing her to kick her legs and cry out with every stroke.

Before long, tears were rolling down her cheeks, and her bottom felt like it was being lit on fire. The pain was unbearable.

Rich listened to her sister's cries, and they cut deep. He didn't want to do this. He wanted to hold her, to comfort her, to tell her she was forgiven, but he couldn't. Not yet.

The cheeks in front of him turned from pink to red, and they were turning crimson when she arched her back, letting out a sob that sounded like it came from the deep parts of her soul. She began crying uncontrollably, and he knew he had broken through to her. The punishment was over. He could finally put the brush down.

He lifted his sister up in his arms, letting her cry into his shoulder as he sat on the bed, rubbing her back and whispering to her that everything was fine, she was forgiven, and the punishment was over.

When she had calmed down a bit, he laid her down on the bed, letting her rest. She fell asleep almost instantly, clutching the pillow like a teddy bear. She was a strange sight, lying on her stomach with her bare, red rear poking up into the air like that, but even the light touch of her panties would be too much on her well-punished bottom right now.

Of course, since she was currently sleeping on his bed, he would have to find some other place to read his book, but that was a small problem.

About an hour and a half later, a squealing teenager ran out to hug him.

"I'm guessing you've phoned Clarissa," he told her.

"Yup. She said I was forgiven, if I replace the CD as soon as I can afford it. I'm going over to her place, and we're going to hang out."

She'd replaced her tight jeans with a skirt, but she still couldn't stop herself from reaching back and robbing her sore bottom as she spoke.

"Well, behave, won't you? I don't want to use the bath brush again any time soon," he said as he swatted her backside.

She pouted. "Don't worry. I don't want that either."

Sweet-cheeks (F/F story)

Most of Christine’s day was as normal as any other. She had gotten up early in the morning, taken a quick shower, eaten a light breakfast, and given her half-asleep girlfriend Dana a quick kiss on the cheek on her way out the door. After that, she had spent many hours in her office, working overtime on the new project. The clock was six in the evening, it was already beginning to get dark, and soon, her workday would be over. By all accounts, a relatively normal day. What Christine didn’t know, was that it was about to become abnormal.

It started with a phone call from Dana. Dana was a tall blonde who always craved excitement. For the past five years, she had been the love of Christine’s life. And now, she had that mischievous tone in her voice she always had when she realized that excitement wasn’t coming, so she had to find it herself.

"Hey, how’s it going, Sweet-cheeks?"

Christine could feel her face blushing with embarrassment already. "Sweet-cheeks" was their own little codeword. When Dana used that nickname on her, it meant one thing, and one thing only. Dana wanted to play. And Christine discovered that so did she.

"The day is over soon. I’ll be home as soon as I can," she said. She couldn’t wait to get home to her girlfriend, for a quick hug, a long kiss and an even longer trip over her knee.

"No, don’t. I’ll come over, just wait in your office."

Christine frowned. Dana had never been in her office before. She had driven her to work and picked her up a couple of times, but she had never been inside. What did she want? And why has she used the codeword? Suddenly, with a jolt, she put two and two together. She exclaimed, a hint of desperation creeping into her voice: "Dana, you can’t! You can’t mean to…"

Dana cut her off. "I can, and I do. I’ll be over in half an hour. By then, you will have taken off your panties and placed them in your drawer. You will flip up that short, sexy skirt you’re wearing, and place that delicious bottom on your chair. You will sit there, feeling the seat on your naked bottom, thinking about how hot I will make your rear end tonight, and how hard sitting down will be tomorrow. Now, if you fail to do ANY of this, there will be consequences."

They ended the call. With a sigh, Christine rose to her feet, deciding to do as Dana had said. She was just glad that the building would be empty soon, as the last stragglers went home.

As she slipped off the small, white panties she always wore, Christine stopped to let her hands run over her bottom, thinking about what was about to happen. Christine smiled as she thought about her nickname. Sweet-cheeks. Christine didn’t like to brag, but she knew that the nickname was well chosen. She had a very cute bottom. Smooth and white, curvy, without being too fat, she had more than once been complimented on her derriere by her significant others. But none had shown as much interest in it as Dana.

When they first started dating, Christine had been surprised at how interested Dana was in her bottom. She let her gaze linger on it in public, and outright stared during more private moments. She let her hands run over it as often as she could, she grabbed it, pinched it, and a couple of times even slapped it. Christine had wondered why her bottom held such an interest to her.

Then came the day when Dana came forward with her unusual interest. The tall blonde, normally so fearless, outspoken and calm, was nervous. She moved her hands around, not sure where to place them, she stared down, unable to meet her lover’s gaze, and even stuttered at one point. She told her about her interest in spanking, an interest she had held for as long as she could remember. She told her about the others, the ones she had approached, who had been disgusted and left. She told her that she wanted to take Christine over her lap and spank those bare buttocks until they were red and sore.

Christine had been surprised, to put it mildly, but she decided that it was worth trying it at least once. It had hurt, that was true, but it was also strangely arousing, and the sex afterwards was the best she ever had. So she decided to try it again. And again. And again.

The next thing she knew, spanking had become an important part of their relationship. They had implements, a few costumes, and even the codeword.

"Sweet-cheeks", Christine mumbled to herself as she rubbed her bottom, standing in her office, waiting for her girlfriend. She shook her head, trying to wake up from the memories. If she was still standing there, out of position, when Dana arrived, there would be consequences. Christine had defied her girlfriend once before, and she did not want to repeat that mistake.

"Hey, Sweet-cheeks," Dana said as she gave her girlfriend a long kiss. Dana’s right hand went back to squeeze Christine's bared bottom, to ensure that she had followed her commands, to remind her of what was to come, and because she really wanted to. In her left hand, Dana held a shopping bag.

Satisfied that her commands had been followed to the letter, Dana opened the shopping bag and pulled out a paddle. It was a foot long, made of sturdy wood. It was polished by long use, and looked rather intimidating. Christine’s eyes grew wide as saucers.

"Where did you get that?" she whispered.

"I found it today in a garage sale. It was just lying there, lonely, so I knew I had to buy it. After all, we don’t have a paddle at home." That was true. They had a wooden spoon, an old leather belt, a big wooden hairbrush, and a riding crop, but no paddle. Dana held the paddle up, swinging it through the air a few times, listening to it whistling through the air. "Now I think it’s time for a certain naughty girl to bend over her desk."

Christine shook her head. "You can’t spank me HERE! Someone will hear!"

"Everyone’s gone home. It’s just you and me here," Dana replied with a grin.

"Well, they will see us!" Christine pointed towards the large windows, showing a large portion of the city. And revealing to most of the city what was going on inside.

"Yes. They will." Dana smiled as she looked over the darkening sky, the tall buildings as the lights appeared in the windows. "Think about it. Look at that sight. Dozens of buildings, hundreds of windows. You will never meet one of them. But if any of them should happen to see our way, they will remember what they see this day. They will remember us."

"Exactly! If we should happen to meet one of them, I’ll die from embarrassment!"

Dana laughed. "They’re too far away. Besides, Sweet-cheeks, if any one of them looks at your FACE, they have the wrong priorities." Christine blushed furiously. "Anyway, consider it our gift to the city."

Christine walked over to her desk, facing away from the windows. She flipped up the skirt as high as she could, revealing her flawless orbs. Dana, unable to help herself, let her hands run over them, pinching and squeezing. Christine shuddered with a mixture of light pain, strong anticipation, and burning desire. She could hear Dana pick up the paddle and lifting it in the air.

With a light smack, the first stroke landed. Dana looked at Christine’s bottom, still white as snow, and from her complete lack of reaction, it was clear that the first stroke was too light. Now, she had to find out how hard was hard enough. She was looking forward to it.

Again, the paddle landed, this time much harder. Christine threw her head up, biting her lip not to cry out. She knew the building was empty, but all the same, she feared someone would hear.

Another stroke. It was a strange sensation, thought Christine. Unlike their other implements, this could take both cheeks in one stroke, evening out the pain all over her bottom.

Wood whistling through the air met soft buttocks, and Christine let a small "Owiee!" escape her lips. Dana smiled. Christine made the cutest noises during a spanking. It made you just want to cuddle her. Or spank her some more, to keep the noises coming. Dana often chose the latter.

Another stroke, and Christine was shocked to discover she already had tears in her eyes. Normally, she could hold out much longer. But the paddle, hitting both cheeks, not letting one rest, was different. As the next stroke landed, she realized she liked it.

SMACK! "Ow, ow, ow," Christine complained. More of those adorable noises. Dana smiled. Her girlfriend was the cutest thing ever.

Another stroke. Dana realized that she was wet. As she held the paddle aloft, she saw that Christine was as well. That was good. If Christine didn’t enjoy their games, they would have to change them. But it was clear she liked this game.

As another stroke landed, Dana was already looking forward to discarding the paddle and ravishing her girlfriend. She began to think about kissing that sore bottom all better, licking every part of her girlfriend’s body that she could reach, climbing on top of her as her sore bottom was pressed into the bed, or the table, or whatever they were on at the time, producing more of those cute little yelps.

After the sound of the smack had echoed out, Dana started rubbing her girlfriend’s back. "How are you feeling, Sweet-cheeks?"

"Strange. It burns, but it’s a good burn. How many was that?"

"Ten," Dana replied as she lowered her hand, rubbing her girlfriend’s sore bottom. "Do you want to go home now?"

"Not yet. How about ten more?"

Dana stared at her in amazement. Christine had never requested MORE punishment. "Sweet-cheeks, your bottom is already sore. I don’t think you can take another ten strokes."

"Please, Dana," Christine said as she turned her head, her hair tussled, her eyes slightly red from crying. "Please. Ten more."

Dana picked up the paddle again.

Another stroke, as Dana watched the cute bottom flatten with the stroke of the paddle, before popping back out. She was already very red, and Dana wondered how her bottom would look at the end of the paddling.

The next stroke was hard. Dana wanted Christine to realize that ten strokes on an already sore bottom was too much. As Dana stood there, paddle in hand, waiting for a response, Christine turned her head, not saying anything, but the message in her eyes was clear as day. "Please continue."

As the next stroke landed, Christine cried out in pain. But Dana realized that it was a good cry, a cry of pleasure as much as from pain. She smiled. If she had not had the courage to talk to Christine that fateful day, or if Christine had been too weirded out to try, as all the others, they wouldn’t have this.

Another stroke, and Christine let out more of the cute little yelping noises. Dana felt herself growing wetter.

The next stroke was to the sit spots, and Christine wondered briefly how she would sit down at all tomorrow. Her entire bottom was stinging, and she knew it would keep doing that.

At the next stroke, both of Christine’s legs flew up as she tried to kick the pain away. She didn’t, but it felt good to try.

Another stroke, and Christine gripped the end of the desk so hard that her knuckles turned white. She wondered how her bottom looked. Probably not very good. It felt even worse. And at the same time, it felt wonderful.

The paddle landed again, and Christine cried out "I’m sorry!" She knew she didn’t have anything to be sorry about, it was just reflex, but she did it anyway.

The last stroke landed, and immediately, Dana pulled her girlfriend into a hug. As Christine, her own little Sweet-cheeks, cried into her shoulder, Dana rubbed her back. They stood there, in the office, just hugging, for about fifteen minutes. Neither of them said anything. They didn’t need to.

As they left the office, to go home to a night of passion, Dana asked if they should leave the paddle at the desk. "I’m sure your colleagues will find a use for it," she said as she let her hand wander under Christine’s skirt, rubbing her sore, panty-less bottom. Christine didn’t reply, just brattily stuck her tongue out at her, so Dana gave her a hard smack.

As she walked to the car, paddle in the bag in her left hand, her right hand rubbing her Sweet-cheeks’ sweet cheeks, Dana thought about how lucky she was.