At the age of 18, Annie was standing in the headmistress' office, fidgeting with the hem of her uniform skirt as Miss Holloway lectured her about her misbehaviour. She'd been caught in the girls' bathroom with a few cigarettes and a bottle of wine, and her teacher had sent her to see Miss Holloway. Absent-mindedly, the girl rubbed the seat of her skirt - she knew the usual punishment for such an infraction was the cane, but she had a small hope that she would be given detention instead.
Her hopes were dashed when Miss Holloway finished her lecture by glaring at her over the rim of her glasses. "I think the proper punishment for this infraction would be six of the best with the cane. Please raise your skirt, lower your panties, and bend over the desk."
Annie wanted to plead with her, to tell her that she would never do this again and that this was unnecessary, but experience had taught her that it would do no good. Obediently, she followed Miss Holloway's instructions while the headmistress went over to the cupboard to fetch the senior cane. As Annie placed her elbows on the table, assuming the position that was so familiar to her at this point, she reflected on her situation - here she was, practically an adult, only a month away from leaving school, and she was about to have her bare bottom caned. She didn't deserve to be treated like this.
"What do you say?" Miss Holloway prodded.
"One, thank you, Miss," Annie said through the pain.
The second stroke landed slightly higher than the first. She stomped her feet, but kept her backside properly presented for the next stroke. "Two, thank you, Miss!"
The third stroke was lower, near her sit spots, and caused a high-pitched squeal. "Three, thank you, Miss!"
At the fourth stroke, Annie could no longer hold back the tears. The salty drops trickled down her face. Some of them dripped into her mouth. "F-four. Thank you, Miss," she managed to grunt.
When the fifth stroke landed, her entire bottom burned as if she'd sat in a campfire. She howled, unable to make a coherent sound. Despite her reputation, Miss Holloway was not entirely without mercy, and allowed her a few seconds to compose herself. "F-five, thank y-you, Miss."
The sixth stroke was by far the hardest, and caused her to lie forward over the desk, kicking her legs madly. "Six, thank you, Miss!" she managed to yell, crying from the pain, but also from the relief of knowing it was over.
"You may spend a few minutes here to compose yourself, or you may go to the bathroom to clean up. Either way, I expect you back in the classroom within ten minutes. And I do not want to see you in my office again. Is that clear?"
Annie nodded, and hurried off to the bathroom. This was not her first experience of the cane, and she kept a tube of cream in her bag for such occasions. As she studied her bruised backside in the mirror, marvelling at the red lines carved into her flesh, she wondered when she would be too told to be spanked.
At the age of 20, Annie was sitting in her bedroom, nervously waiting to hear her father's footsteps. She'd borrowed his car without permission, and had scratched it without telling him. He was one of those parents who thought that no child that still lived at home was too old to be spanked, so later that evening, he had told her to prepare for bed and wait for her punishment. She'd headed to her bedroom, put on the old top and shorts she used as sleepwear, and sat on the bed. In a few minutes, her father would enter the room, put his grown daughter across his lap, and spank her bare bottom. This was so unfair!
Soon, she heard the familiar steps approaching. As he opened the door, she spotted the bath brush in his hand, and she wanted to cry. She'd hoped he would only use his hand, but it seemed he thought this offence was too serious for that.
"I'm very disappointed in you," he lectured as he sat next to her on the bed. "Taking my car without asking? Damaging it, and then trying to hide it from me? I expect better of you, Annie." He patted his lap, and she leaned forward, resting her weight on his thighs. He grabbed the hem of her shorts and underwear, whisking them both down to reveal her pale, trembling posterior.
As his hand slapped down on her bottom, she winced in pain. His hand always hurt more than she remembered, but she'd been expecting the brush, so it wasn't as bad as she'd feared. However, she was too much of a realist to hope that he wouldn't use it - he wouldn't have brought it unless he thought he needed it. He only intended to give her a warm-up spanking first.
She yelped and kicked her legs, promising to be a good girl in the future, but he made no response. She knew why she was over his lap, so he saw no reason to waste his breath on further lecturing at this point. His hard palm crashed down on her soft rear, implanting a fire-hot sting.
After a few minutes of hard slaps, he suddenly stopped. Taking a deep breath to steady herself, she soon felt the cold wood of the bath brush rubbing in circles on her burning bottom. She whimpered in anticipation, then howled as he lifted the brush and cracked it down on her soft flesh.
She bawled, pleaded, and squirmed as the hard brush relentlessly assaulted her poor posterior, but nothing she said could convince her father to stop, and nothing she did could prevent the brush from landing right where he wanted it to.
Finally, after what seemed like hours to the red-bottomed young lady, he helped her up and dried her tears. He gathered her on his lap, soothing her and telling her that she was forgiven. Once she'd calmed down, he left the room, and she laid down on her stomach on the bed. Her shorts and panties were still around her ankles, as she was far too sore to wear anything at the moment. As she reached for the tube of ointment, she wondered bitterly when she would finally be too old to be spanked.
At the age of 24, Annie was fidgeting at her desk at work, wondering how long it would be before Mrs Johnson called her into her office. Annie's work had been quite sloppy lately, and her boss had finally told her that she would take it out of her pay - unless Annie agreed to another arrangement. Annie had asked about the alternative, and Mrs Johnson had told her that she had often felt that careless young ladies like Annie would greatly benefit from a good paddling on their bare bottoms. Faced with this horrible choice, Annie had finally decided on accepting the paddling.
Mrs Johnson had told her to work late that day. To give the young woman a bit of privacy, she would wait until everyone else had left, before summoning Annie to her office. The others had left almost thirty minutes ago, so she was curious why Mrs Johnson hadn't called for her yet - but not curious enough to go and ask her; she was in no hurry to have her bottom paddled.
She soon heard Mrs Johnson's voice. "Annie? Come here, please." Rising on trembling feet, Annie walked into her boss' office, feeling like a prisoner on her way to execution.
Mrs Johnson was standing by the desk, holding a large wooden paddle that Annie assumed was similar to what was used in American schools. It was large, thick, and vicious-looking. It also looked slightly worn, suggesting that this was not the first time it would be used.
"You agree to take this paddling, in return for not having your pay docked?" Mrs Johnson asked her. Annie nodded. "You're sure about this? Once it starts, it's too late to back out."
Annie swallowed, trying to remove the lump in her throat. "I'm sure," she finally managed to croak.
She'd expected to be ordered to undress herself, the way Miss Holloway had always punished her, but it seemed like Mrs Johnson had a different way of doing things. She stepped forward, grabbing the hem of Annie's business skirt, lifting it. "Hold this," she commanded. Annie obeyed, and Mrs Johnson then placed her fingers in the waistband of Annie's modest panties. Slowly, she peeled her knickers all the way down her legs, telling Annie to step out of them. Placing the panties on the desk, Mrs Johnson then commanded the young woman to bend over and grab the other side.
As Annie leaned forward across the desk, she felt the paddle rubbing against her quivering cheeks. She had expected her boss to use the paddle in the same way that her headmistress had used the cane - a few hard strokes that made her howl in pain - but was surprised when Mrs started to paddle. Light, quick strokes peppered her backside, but they still stung enough to make her eyes water. She was almost certain that this wasn't the right way to use a paddle like this, but she wisely kept her mouth shut - she didn't think Mrs Johnson would appreciate comments on her technique.
As the paddle continued to strike her bottom, Annie squirmed over the desk, and was soon unable to hold back the tears. The cumulative effect of the light strokes was slowly building a fire in her backside, and her sniffles and yelps were mixing with the pop of the paddle in the quiet room.
She kicked her legs and bawled, but Mrs Johnson placed a hand on her back to hold her in place as she continued to swing the paddle. Gradually, she struck harder and faster, causing the young woman to howl. Soon, Annie was lying limply across the desk, sobbing pitifully.
When Mrs Johnson was sure that she had learned her lesson, she helped Annie to her feet, hugging her and telling her that she was forgiven. Once Annie had calmed down, Mrs Johnson offered to give her a ride home, but she declined, deciding that walking would be less painful than sitting in a car.
When she finally reached her home, she fetched the familiar tube of cream, wondering when she would at last be too old to be spanked.
At the age of 30, Annie stood before her husband in her favourite evening dress. The salacious grin on his face was matched by her own.
"You've been a very naughty girl, Annie. Do you know what happens to naughty girls around here?"
"I've tried so hard to be good, sir," Annie said, looking submissively at the floor.
He placed a finger under her chin, forcing her to look him in the eyes. "You didn't answer my question, Annie. What happens to naughty girls around here?"
She licked her lips. They'd been playing their little games for almost two years, and she still found it hard to say the word. "They get... they get s-spanked, sir."
He gave her a warm smile. "That's right. Have you been a naughty girl, Annie?" She nodded, but he gave her a strict glare that almost seemed convincing. "Use your words, Annie. Have you been a naughty girl?"
She blushed, but managed to meet his gaze. "Yes, sir."
He nodded and started to take off his belt. Goosebumps appeared on her flesh as it slipped through the loops; it was such a wonderful, awful, amazing sound. He sat down in the straight-backed wooden chair, patting his lap. "Over my knee, young lady."
Needing no further encouragement, she bent forward and placed herself over his lap. He slowly and gently raised her dress to reveal her beautiful bottom. He raised an eyebrow. "No panties, young lady? I'm going to punish you extra for that, you know."
"Yes, sir. Sorry, sir," she said, not even attempting to hide her grin.
He started off with his hand, delivering a gentle slap to her right cheek, then her left cheek. His hand moved slowly, rubbing and pinching as he gently spanked her. Gradually, however, he increased the speed and strength of the slaps, causing the minx over his lap to moan in pain and pleasure.
When he was satisfied that her wriggling rear end was sufficiently pink, he lifted the belt, tapping it gently against her bottom and grinning as he watched her clench and unclench her cheeks in anticipation.
He swung the belt forcefully, and she winced and yelped as the red lines started to cover her bottom. Every touch of the leather brought another crimson stripe, until her bottom was bright red and hot to the touch. Tears were starting to fall, until she was almost as wet in the face as she was between her legs.
Once he was satisfied that she had been well and truly strapped, he picked her up and planted a kiss on her lips, before carrying her toward the bedroom. She sighed contentedly to herself and felt a sense of relief as she knew she would never be too old to be spanked.
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