It was a lovely, warm Friday afternoon. Several of my co-workers were finding their nicest dresses, preparing to go out on the town. I was sitting in my living room in a t-shirt and sweatpants, waiting for a teenager to come over and spank my bare bottom like I was a misbehaving child.
I shook my head. Why did it feel like I was the lucky one?
The doorbell rung, and I opened it to find Ana giving me the strictest glare she could muster. She was wearing a worn t-shirt and holey jeans, and carrying a small shopping bag. She immediately entered the living room, and I followed her.
A few weeks before, I had spied through the window as the eighteen-year-old was spanked by her mother. When I was caught, her mother had mistaken me for a teenager instead of the 30-year-old businesswoman next door, and had spanked my bare bottom while Anna watched and laughed. Anna had eventually found out who I was, and had decided to spank my bottom instead of telling her mother. Now, going over her lap had become something of a regular occurrence – to our mutual enjoyment.
"Have you prepared the list?" she asked me with her most dismissive glance.
I hurriedly retrieved the sheet of paper and brought it before her. The week before, Anna had decided that she wasn't going to just pull me over her knee and spank me – she was going to punish me properly for my real misdeeds. For that purpose, she'd given me homework; over the week, I would write down everything I did wrong, big or small. I would give her the list, and she would decide on an appropriate punishment. Somehow, I got the feeling that whatever I wrote down, the end result would be a bare-bottomed spanking over her knee. And I was fine with that.
She shook her head in disapproval as she scanned the list. To tell the truth, there hadn't been much to write. I'd been a few minutes late to work one day. One evening, I had left the dishes in the sink, not clearing up until the day after. There had been a "two donuts for each" box at the office, and I had taken three – petty things like that. But she began to scold me for every item, slowly and in great detail, until I began to feel like a vicious criminal.
"Well, young lady," the teenager said as she glared up at me. "I think what you need to straighten you out is a good, sound spanking." She patted her lap, and I obediently placed myself over her knees, my bottom presented to her attention.
She placed her hand on the seat of my panties, gently patting them, before lifting her hand and delivering a soft smack. She lifted her hand and gave me another gentle pat, and I realized that she wanted to start slowly today.
That was fine with me, I decided, and I smiled to myself as she continued to warm my bottom. This was very enjoyable.
"Are you learning your lesson, Rosie?" she scolded. "Will you be a good girl from now on?"
"Oh, I'm very sorry," I said with a grin, wriggling my hips slightly. "I promise I'll behave!"
Giggling, she gradually started to spank harder and faster. A few minutes later, I was wincing from the sting, but the smile still hadn't faded from my face.
However, the strict young lady continued to increase the speed and strength of her slaps. Soon, I was genuinely wriggling over her knee, and to her satisfaction, my smile was gone. The heat was beginning to build, and I was crossing and uncrossing my legs. "I think that's enough of a warm-up," she said, rubbing my stinging rear. "Lower your panties."
I blushed. I knew all along that I would eventually have my panties taken down, but did I have to do it myself? When I hesitated, she slapped my thigh. "Don't make me repeat myself," she said ominously.
I quickly raised my hips, slipping my cartoon panties down to my knees. "That's right. Good girl," she said. I smiled blissfully at her words as she continued to spank me.
By now, her spanks had truly begun to sting, and I was squirming around, squealing with every firm spank that landed on my rapidly-reddening derriere. My yelps, however, brought little mercy from my spanker – in fact, they only caused her to giggle and spank harder. "You make the cutest sounds when I spank you," she complimented me.
After a while, she stopped spanking me, blowing cool air on her palm. "My hand is beginning to hurt," she complained. I wondered if I should remind her that it was worse on my... well, END, but I decided to keep quiet.
Feeling a mixture of relief and disappointment that the spanking was over already, I began to rise, but she pushed me back down.
"Not so fast, Rosie," she said. "We're not done yet."
She placed her hand in the plastic bag she'd brought with her, and I felt something cold and hard rubbing in circles on my sore cheeks. Glancing over my shoulder, I saw that she'd brought an old wooden hairbrush.
"Let's finish your punishment," she said with a grin as she raised the brush and brought it cracking down on my bare bottom.
As the hard wood struck my rear, I howled; this was much more painful than her hand, and even worse than the fuzzy slipper she'd used on me before. I couldn't believe how much sting a little old hairbrush could bring. I dimly recalled being told that Anna was spanked with a hairbrush by her mother, and felt renewed sympathy for the teenager.
Of course, since said teenager was currently spanking my bottom with a hairbrush, that sympathy quickly evaporated, since I needed it all for myself. I shrieked and kicked my legs. The tears that had hung at the edges of my eyes, were now flowing freely down my cheeks. A few minutes of rapid smacks with that wicked brush, and I was sobbing over her lap.
Eventually, she placed the brush back in the bag, and helped me up. I sat on her lap, crying into her shoulder, while she comforted me and told me I was forgiven. She told me she was sorry that she had to do that to me, though the sadistic grin on her face made it hard for me to believe her.
Not that it mattered. I loved the little lady, I loved the spankings she gave me, and next Friday, I would be back on the couch, eagerly waiting for her to come and spank me.
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