Dressed to impress (M/F story)

One morning, I was woken up by a strange, buzzing sound. Shaking my head to try to clear my sleep-addled brain, I eventually recognized it as the doorbell. I tried to sit up, but it took some effort – it had been a late evening. The night before, I'd been to a BDSM-party, hoping to find an attractive, single guy who'd like to take a young woman across his lap. Sadly, most of the best guys were already taken, and I ended up going home alone.

I promptly placed my head down on the pillow again - if any of my friends needed to reach me this early, they would always call first, and I had no desire to talk to any charity collectors or door-to-door salespeople or anyone like that.

A few seconds later, I bounced out of bed, suddenly remembering that my new landlord was coming to talk to me today. I'd moved into the apartment a few weeks ago, and he wanted to give me time to settle in before he came to ask me whether there were any issues I needed him to deal with, and whether I had any questions. It was also clear that he also wanted to make sure I wasn't a terrible slob or might cause permanent damage to the place, but he hadn't said that part out loud.

Grabbing the sweatpants I keep near the bed, as well as a t-shirt from the floor, I hurriedly dressed and ran to open the door. As I had expected, it was my landlord, Edward. He was tall, well-built, and looked good when he smiled, but there was a strange charmlessness and lack of charisma to him. "Good morning, Jenny. I hope I didn't wake you up."

"Oh no, I've been up for hours - I was just in the bathroom," I said, trying to seem like more of a responsible adult than I felt like. "But I'd forgotten that you were coming over today, so I haven't gotten around to doing my makeup or brushing my hair yet."

"So, you DO have a hairbrush," he said in what I assumed was an attempt at a joke. Part of me wanted to reveal to him that I had five hairbrushes, all nicknamed by how much they stung on my bare bottom, as well as several bath brushes and clothes brushes. However, I managed to bite my tongue.

We took a quick walk around the apartment, before sitting down on the sofa for a chat and a cup of tea. He asked me if I had any questions or complaints, which I hadn't. I asked him if he had any comments that he'd like me to hear, and he replied that the only thing worth commenting was my attire.

"I usually wear sweatpants at home, and like I said, I forgot you were coming over. I wouldn't have looked like such a slob if I'd remembered."

"No, no, you're free to dress however you like. I just find your choice of t-shirt surprising."

I gave him a confused look, wondering what was wrong with it. Then, with a shiver of dread running down my spine, I suddenly remembered the shirt I had worn in the club the previous evening. I glanced down with a fervent hope that I had grabbed some other shirt in my dash for the door, but no such luck. The shirt was black, with pink text stating "I just need to be spanked and to bed early!" It was a fun shirt to wear when going out drinking with spankos, but not the ideal attire for a serious chat with your new landlord.

Hastily, I tried to think of an excuse to explain why I was wearing this - without revealing more about my sex life than I wanted my landlord to know. 'Someone else must have placed this on my body without me noticing'? 'An evil witch placed a spell on the shirt that reveals your secret desires when you read it, so if you see something dirty, that's on you'?

"I lost a bet with one of my coworkers," I said, trying to sound calm and confident. "I have to wear this shirt for three consecutive Saturdays." I leaned in and whispered conspiratorially. "Between you and me, she seems like a bit of a pervert - I don't know why she has this shirt or where she got it."

From the smile on his face, I had a strong impression that he didn't buy my story. He leaned back in his chair and steepled his fingers. "Here's what I think happened," he said. "Like you've admitted, you forgot I was coming over, so you were NOT up hours before I rang the bell. You grabbed the nearest piece of clothing and ran to open the door, not looking too closely at what you grabbed." I opened my mouth to protest at his conclusions, but he placed his finger on my lips to silence me. "That means you've told me at least two lies. I think you should be punished."

I was about to protest my innocence when the implications of his words struck me. Suddenly, my heart was trying to beat its way through my chest. Could he really be suggesting what I hoped he was suggesting? 'Of course he's suggesting that', I told myself. 'He's not going to see me in a spanking shirt and suggest I write lines'. I considered my options and decided that since it had been far too long since I'd been over a man's lap, and he wasn't exactly bad-looking, I would agree to his suggestion. "Maybe I SHOULD be punished. What did you have in mind?" I said softly, batting my eyelids at him.

He gave me a wide grin and patted his knees. Wordlessly, I leaned forward, resting my body on the couch as the seat of my sweatpants was centered on his lap. His hand began to rub my bottom, and I reflected on the randomness of life. I'd spent several hours at the club yesterday, trying in vain to find a man to spank me, and today, one had shown up at my door.

My reflections were cut short as the first spank landed on my backside. That lovely, pleasant sting spread through my bottom, and I sighed contentedly. It had been FAR too long since I felt the palm of a man on my posterior. As the spanks landed, I wriggled my rear in what I hoped was an enticing manner, egging him on. "You're good at this. Have you done this before?" I said, glancing over my shoulder at him. He shrugged noncommittally, before suddenly glaring down at me.

"You should not be enjoying this," he said in mock seriousness. "Maybe I should spank you harder."

I smiled. "Maybe you should."

While he delivered the firmest spanks I'd felt in quite some time, his hand roved randomly around my backside, sometimes moving from cheek to cheek, sometimes staying on the same cheek, and sometimes spanking the same spot multiple times in a row, making me wholly unprepared for where the next spank would land. My backside was beginning to feel quite warm - as was my front.

"That's enough of a warm-up," he declared, placing his fingers in the waistband of my sweatpants. "We'll continue this on your panties."

"Want to bet?" I said, sticking my tongue out at him. He looked at me in confusion, clearly wondering what I meant - a confusion that was quickly cleared up as he lowered my sweatpants, revealing my bare, pink bottom to his gaze. "I always sleep in the nude," I explained. "And I didn't have time to put anything on today."

"Well, that's fine with me, we don't... wait a second." I could practically hear the gears turning in his head. "In that case, I think you should remove that offensive shirt as well, so I don't have to look at it."

I giggled a little at that. The man had a certain hilarious lack of suaveness that was somehow appealing. He helped me to my feet, and I slowly removed my t-shirt. I heard a small gasp escape his lips as my naked breasts were revealed. Since the only things I was now wearing was the sweatpants around my knees, I decided to remove those as well. From the expression on his face, it was clear he liked what he saw, which was confirmed by the bulge I could feel beneath me as I went back across his lap.

The sting of his palm was noticeably sharper without the protection of my clothes. I was soon kicking my legs. "Are you going to spank me like this if I'm late with the rent?" I asked him teasingly.

"Of course not! But maybe I will if you pay it on time," he responded.

His hand continued to fall on my squirming bottom, harder and faster and before, and I was soon moaning under his palm. To think that a single piece of clothing could have this result! Maybe I should wear that shirt more often.

Though part of me hoped it would go on for hours, I will admit to feeling somewhat relieved when he gently stroked my backside and told me to stand up. My backside was not as used to punishment as it had been. I rose unsteadily, having to place one hand on his shoulder to stay on my feet while my other hand rubbed some of the sting away from my seat.

"That's the first half of your shirt fulfilled," he said as he rose from the couch. He then swept me off my feet, placing a gentle kiss on my smiling lips. "Now, it's time to handle the second part and take you to bed, don't you think?"

I laughed. "'SENT to bed," I chided him. "The t-shirt says I should be 'SENT to bed'."

"That's not how I choose to remember it," he replied as he carried me toward the bedroom.