Tutor's Lesson (F/F story)

"You must be Jenny," I said to the eighteen-year-old girl who'd just rang the doorbell of my apartment. "I'm Samantha. Have you ever had a tutor before?"

The tall, dark-haired girl in the school uniform shook her head. "No. I haven't done so well in Maths as I should expect, and my parents had heard good things about you, which is why they hired you."

I smiled reassuringly. "Don't worry, I'm sure we'll get your grades back up," I said as we went inside. I sat down on the couch and waved for her to sit down next to me. "Why don't you open your books and - are you OK?" I asked. She'd winced when she sat down.

"It's nothing," she said hastily. When I continued to stare at her, she sighed. "Like I said, my grades haven't been as good as they should have been. My parents said I needed a tutor, I disagreed, and I used some words I shouldn't have, so..."

"They spanked you!?" I said, shocked. I'd had something of an interest in the subject for years. I'd never been spanked myself, but the thought that this eighteen-year-old was still being placed across the parental lap brought a blush to my cheeks. At 27, I could barely remember what it was like to be a teenager, but being punished like that by my parents would have probably made me so embarrassed I'd want to die. And from the expression on Jenny's face, she wanted me to change the subject.

As she opened the book, we started going through the bits she struggled with, but I found my thoughts drifting back to the image of Jenny being bent over someone's lap, squirming and squealing as her rear was reddened.

She came to my apartment every Thursday, just after school, and every time, I tried to subtly dig for details about her punishment. Gradually, I learned that she was spanked by both parents, but very rarely - once every two months or thereabouts. She was always spanked over their knee. Usually with their hand, but she was occasionally sent to fetch the hairbrush or slipper when she'd been particularly naughty. She was also subject to corporal punishment at the girls' school she went to - bent over the desk, ruler over panties, sometimes in front of the class. And being punished in school was always followed by a spanking at home.

Every word she said on the subject only whetted my appetite, and I soon began to imagine taking her over my own knee. Maybe I would punish her if she didn't work diligently - she was already spanked by her parents and teacher, so she probably wouldn't put up much resistance when the tutor that was almost a decade older than her told her she needed it. Or maybe I could find some secret that she didn't want her parents to know about, and tell her I would keep quiet if I punished her myself?

Soon, my favourite daydream would begin to crystallize. If her work began to deteriorate, or she was consistently late, I would scold her and tell her how disappointed I was in her. I would inform her that I would have to tell her parents and suggest that they should give her a good, hard spanking. She would turn her big, sad eyes at me and beg me not to tell them, that they would be so disappointed with her. I would respond that the only alternative was that I should spank her myself. She'd flinch, and beg me to reconsider, but when I remained firm, she would grudgingly choose to be punished by me. I would pat my lap and tell her to bend over, which she would reluctantly do. I would start spanking the seat of her uniform skirt, which I would eventually raise to reveal her white cotton panties. I would rub her bottom, telling her how disappointed I was, before continuing to spank her wriggling rear. She'd squeal and beg for mercy, but I would remain firm as I soundly blistered her bottom. Then, I would pull her panties down, thrashing her bare bottom until it was red and hot to the touch, and she was sobbing her heart out. I would comfort her, and she would promise to behave from now on.

However, back in the real world, Jenny worked hard and always showed up on time. It wasn't that she never made mistakes in her calculations - she wouldn't need a tutor if that was the case - but she worked diligently and did her best, and it was clear that she was making progress. I was fairly sure I could still have used my age and power over her to command her over my knee, but if I spanked her without reason, she would probably tell her parents, and that was a conversation I was not prepared for.

Then, one week, she showed up to my door while gingerly rubbing her bottom. "I just finished a discussion with one of my teachers," she explained. Like I said, she always arrived straight from school. "Well, to tell the truth, her ruler did most of the talking... Can I borrow your bathroom? I need to cool down."

I nodded, and she headed down the hall. I heard her head into the bathroom, but I didn't hear her close the door completely - it was probably slightly ajar. I grinned to myself. Just a few feet away, a teenager was soothing her spanked bottom in my bathroom. It wasn't as good as spanking her myself, but the thought of watching her trying to rub the sting away had definite appeal. Slowly and silently, I headed down the hall, peeking into the bathroom. I couldn't see her at the sink, so where was she?

Suddenly, I felt a hand grab my earlobe. Squealing, I looked into Jenny's triumphant face. "Hah! I knew if I faked a sore bottom, you would be unable to resist the urge to spy on me in the bathroom. Always asking about my spankings, trying to lure details out of me... "

Looking back, I should probably have slapped her hand away, scolded her for deceiving me and grabbing my ear, and possibly I should even have threatened to tell my version of events to her parents - where I was just on my way to ask her if she was OK when she assaulted me for no reason. However, what I actually did was whimper "I'm sorry! I didn't mean to! Please don't be mad at me!"

The teenager dragged me into my own living room. "You're curious about spankings, are you? Want to know all about it? Well, you're about to find out!" She sat down on the couch, grabbed my arm, and started to pull me over her knee. I think I still could have resisted, but I was still too shocked by what was going on - this was not the way it went in my fantasies!

Her palm struck the seat of my jeans, causing me to yelp at the unexpected sting. Her hand moved quickly from cheek to cheek. "Ouch! That hurts!" I whined.

"Oh really?" she said in mock surprise. "You've already started to learn about spankings! You're about to learn a lot more," she said ominously.

My sluggish brain was still trying to process what had happened. Instead of bending the teenager over my lap, smacking her cute little rear, I was the one being spanked over HER lap. I tried to stand up and correct this mistake, but she placed her left arm around my waist to hold me in place. "You're not going anywhere for a long time," she scolded. "How dare you try to peek at me? How dare you try to drill me for private information? If you're so eager to know about spankings, I'll give you a proper demonstration!"

I squealed as she continued to spank me. The warm sting grew stronger with every smack, and soon, I could feel tears at the edges of my eyes.

I sighed with relief as she stopped spanking and placed me back on my feet, and both of my hands flew back to rub the seat of my jeans. Her next words, however, caused a shiver to run down my back.

"Take down your trousers!"

"What?" I said, turning pale. "You must be joking!"

But her steely eyes met mine. "If I have to take them down for you, it'll be a lot worse for you - believe me!"

Unable to meet her gaze, I looked at the floor and began to unbutton my jeans. To think that I had supposed that this schoolgirl was timid, that she'd fold when I began to scold her. I was the one folding, and I knew I wasn't getting my authority back any time soon.

I lowered my jeans to my knees, revealing my pink satin panties. She patted her lap. "Back over my knee," she commanded. Without hesitation, I obeyed.

She continued to spank my bottom, but I grew aware of a very different emotion within me. Like I said, I've been interested in spanking for years, and while a lot of my daydreams involved taking some misbehaving woman or man over my lap, I won't pretend the thought of being spanked had never entered my fantasies. Now that it was actually happening, I have to admit it wasn't entirely unpleasant. It was painful, it was humiliating, but there was also something very appealing.

"I hope you're thinking about what you've done wrong," she said, breaking my chain of thought. "Because I expect a proper apology."

"Ow! I'm sorry for spying on you - it was wrong," I said, kicking my legs. "And for pestering you into telling me about your spankings."

"See? That's much better," she said. "I think we can begin your real punishment now." And she placed her fingers in the waistband of my panties.

Part of me wanted to protest - to tell her that she couldn't bare my bottom. But another part of me wanted her to continue, to know what a bare-bottom spanking really felt like. Also, I knew that protesting or pleading would do nothing - she'd decided to pull my panties down, and nothing I said would convince her not to. I buried my face in the pillows, and soon, my panties had joined my jeans around my knees.

"Are you enjoying this?" she said accusingly.

"What? No," I squealed. "Of course not!"

"Then why is the front of your panties wet?"

Ah. That was a tricky question. Would it be more or less embarrassing to pretend a little bit of pee had come out? "That's just sweat," I eventually settled on.

She let out a snort. "Sure it is." I tried to respond, but she launched another volley of spanks on my bottom, and I was soon howling too much to talk.

I was sobbing over her lap as she continued to blister my burning bottom. By the time she helped me up, I felt like I wouldn't sit for a year. She grinned as she watched me dance from foot to foot, rubbing the sting from my rear, but soon stood up to hug me and comfort me. "Have you learned your lesson? No more spying or trying to lure spanking details out of me?"

"Yes, Miss," I said, nodding eagerly. I no longer felt in charge here, and had a feeling it would take a long time before I did – if ever.

"Are you going to behave from now on?"

"Yes, Miss," I said, still eager to please her.

She smiled. "Would you like me to do this again sometime?"

I blushed, looking at the floor. That was an embarrassing question. She placed her finger under my chin, forcing me to look her in the eyes. "Yes, Miss," I admitted.

We didn't get much studying done that day, but one of us had certainly learned a good lesson.