"I cannot believe you'd spill something on my skirt, then try to hide it from me! Ruin your OWN things all you like, but leave my stuff alone," Joanne snapped as she paced back and forth on the floor of her bedroom. Joanne was my best friend; she was a petite girl with long black hair, deep green eyes, and a laid-back nature – though obviously, right at this moment, that nature was nowhere to be seen.
"I've already said I'm sorry. What more do you want?" I said as I stood before her, barely managing to resist the urge to roll my eyes. We had been planning to go to a club, and she'd decided to wear her newest skirt. It was when she retrieved it from her closet that she discovered what I'd done. "It was an accident."
"Oh?" she said, spinning to face me. "Was it an accident that you went to my closet, taking the new skirt I haven't even worn myself yet – without asking me? Was it an accident that you spilled soda all over it at the party? Was it an accident that you then hung the stained skirt back up in my closet, hoping I wouldn't notice?"
"I washed it first," I pointed out. "It isn't my fault the stain is still visible. Also, the spilling soda part WAS an accident."
The glare she cast in my direction told me that my comments were not appreciated. "I can't believe you!" she fumed. "You have no respect for other people's property! Do you have any idea how hard this will be to clean?"
At this point, I was no longer able to stop myself from rolling my eyes. She sounded like my mother, not my best friend. "I've apologized. Are you going to lecture me all day? I wish you'd spank me or something – get it out of your system," I said, having given up all attempts to hold my tongue.
Suddenly, I saw another gleam of light from my hand. I glanced down at the ring I'd found the week before – on the day that Mr Page had spanked me in detention. That had turned out to be a wonderful day; a new piece of jewellery AND a trip over the knee of my most handsome teacher? Sign me up! There had also been a flash of light from the ring on that day; probably I'd held it at just the right angle to reflect the sunlight, but I hadn't been able to replicate it. Before now, that is.
Joanne frowned as she regarded me, then sat down on her bed. "That sounds like a good idea, actually. Bend over my lap."
"My words don't seem to be getting through to you, so I'm going to see what my hand can do. Over my knee NOW!" She patted her lap.
I couldn't believe this. She couldn't be serious, could she? This didn't sound like her. Joanne was a well-behaved girl that lacked my aptitude for mischief, and she had gotten into trouble on more than one occasion by going along with my schemes. But she'd never tried to exert authority over me; that just wasn't part of our relationship. I'll admit I'd had a few daydreams about her taking me over her knee and spanking me soundly, but I'd had those sorts of dreams about a lot of people. "You're kidding, right?"
She glared at me. "Does it look like I'm kidding? Get your little backside over my knee NOW, or I'm going to grab a belt."
Deciding I should stop looking the gift horse in the mouth, I walked toward her and placed myself over her lap. This was the second time I'd found myself in this position in a little over a week, and I reflected on the differences. That time, I'd been placed over Mr Page's firm thighs as he sat in a chair, meaning my legs and head were pointing to the floor. This time, I was resting on Joanne's bed, with my bottom centred over her soft legs. Her soft hand, so different from Mr Page's firm palm, started to rub the seat of my jeans. "I hope this will teach you to respect other people's property," she scolded as she lifted her hand.
The first few smacks landed, causing me to bite my lip in surprise and excitement. Joanne spanked fast, her hand moving randomly across my bottom, but she didn't spank hard; it barely raised a tingle. I wanted to tell her to spank harder, but managed to hold my tongue; she thought she was punishing me, and I wanted her to continue to believe that.
She kept spanking me for a few minutes, then suddenly stopped. "Stand up," she commanded.
"Are we done?" I said as I rose, somehow managing to keep the disappointment out of my voice. My right hand moved back to rub my backside, though there wasn't much of a sting.
Joanne glared up at me. "Oh no, far from it! You have a long, hard spanking coming your way, young lady, but your jeans are hurting my hand," she said as she blew on her palm. "I'm not the one who's supposed to be getting punished here. Take down your trousers!"
"Take... take down my –" I said, surprised by this turn of events. I really didn't think Joanne was capable of delivering anything I'd describe as a 'long, hard spanking.'
"Don't just stand there staring, you heard what I said!" She shook her head. "Oh, never mind, I'll do it for you." Pulling me toward her by the beltloops in my jeans, she started to unzip and unbutton my trousers. She lowered them to my knees, revealing a pair of powder-blue panties.
"Back over my knee," she said strictly, and I immediately obeyed – both because I didn't want to make her angrier, and because I was eager for her to continue. She patted the seat of my panties, tutting disapprovingly: "Barely pink! You're going to have a bright red bottom by the time I'm done." And she continued to spank me.
Her slaps hurt more without the protection of my jeans, but even then, it was less painful than Mr Page's hand. Mr Page, however, had only spanked me for a few minutes. Joanne wasn't going to stop so soon. While each slap didn't hurt much, the sting still built up over time, and after fifteen minutes or so, I was shifting around over her lap, the occasional "Ouch!" or "Ow" escaping my lips.
She then shocked me again by placing her fingers in the waistband of my panties. "Bad little girls get spanked on their bare bottoms," she lectured as she started to pull them down. I buried my face in her pillow, feeling a mixture of embarrassment and excitement. I just hoped she wouldn't notice how wet I was!
"That's a nice, pink bottom," she said, nodding in approval. "Now it's time to make it red!" I yelped as she continued to spank.
I was squirming over her lap, moaning. Her soft, little hand fluttered all over my bottom, finding pieces of flesh that were paler than the rest and delivering a series of hard slaps to it, before finding a new target. Eventually, she started to go for the lower parts of my bottom, where I'd really feel it the next time I sat down. I have to say, when she spanked me there, that REALLY got my legs kicking. I could no longer hold back the tears. But no matter how much I squirmed or kicked, she never missed her target; she just placed her arm around my waist, holding me in place as she spanked.
After maybe twenty or thirty minutes over her lap, Joanne told me I could stand up. As I rose to my feet, I rubbed the tears from my face with one hand and the sting from my butt with the other. I had gained a new-found respect for Joanne's ability as a spanker.
She smacked away the hand soothing my pained rear. "No rubbing! Not yet. I want you to face the wall." She nodded to one of the corners of the room. "Hands on your head, bottom bared, until I tell you otherwise."
I looked at her, convinced that she was joking, but the question died on my lips, unspoken. There was no mistaking the determined look in her eye. I quickly obeyed her, standing on display with my spanked rear on display.
"Once your corner time is over, I'll give you cuddles and some lotion for your butt," she told me. "But if you move your hands, turn around, and speak without being spoken to, I'll start your spanking from the beginning. Is that understood?"
"Yes, ma'am," I said, automatically adopting the submissive language from the spanking stories I'd read. I couldn't believe my luck. We would have to do this again sometime – though not too soon. I wanted my posterior to have some time to heal.
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