I whistled happily as I walked down the street – not exactly fitting my tattooed punk aesthetic, but I was ecstatic, so I didn’t care. Last Saturday, I had been approached in a bar by my old classmate Katie, who admitted that she'd been the one smoking in the classroom back in our school days – something I'd been blamed for, which had earned me a spanking in front of the class, with my skirt up and my panties down. She'd apologized, and despite now being in our late twenties, we'd somehow ended up deciding that I should take the little blonde over my knee and spank her bare bottom for what she did to me back then. I had thoroughly enjoyed watching her squirm and squeal over my lap, and had convinced her that to truly pay for her sins, she should get two more spankings from me over the following two weeks. It would only be fair, after all.
And now, I was on my way to her apartment to deliver the second one.
I was obviously looking forward to smacking her cute little rear end, but I was also eager to see how she was dressed. On Wednesday, I had phoned her up and asked her to get a school uniform.
"But we didn't wear uniforms back in school," she said dubiously. "I think you wore a miniskirt and a thong when you were spanked."
"That's right, but it would be fitting, wouldn't it?" I said calmly. Katie was always easily convinced by anyone speaking confidently. "You are being punished for something you did as a schoolgirl, so you should dress as one as well." Of course, my real reason was that I thought the petite woman would look cute as a button in it – particularly while being spanked.
I approached her apartment and rang the doorbell. The door opened slightly, and I saw her peeking through the crack. "Oh, it's you, Vanessa," she said with a sigh of relief as she opened the door. "There was a charity collector guy here half an hour ago, and I opened the door thinking it was you. I almost died with shame – I didn't want anyone else to see me like this."
She was wearing a white schoolgirl's blouse with a blue tie, a matching blue skirt, and long, white socks. She had tied her long, blonde hair in blue ribbons. As I had predicted, she was absolutely adorable, and I could feel my palm beginning to itch just looking at her.
She pouted. "No, he asked me if my parents were home," she said, clearly offended.
We made our way into the living room, and I sat down on the couch. Deciding to get started right away, I grabbed her hand and guided her over my lap, gently, but firmly. She bit her lip as she laid down, whimpering softly as my hand rubbed the seat of her schoolgirl skirt. I gave her a firm slap.
"I thought you were going to spank my bare bottom?" she said, sounding confused.
"Oh, I will," I replied. "Don't worry about that. But I thought we'd start slowly today." I continued to rub and spank her bottom, letting my hand rove randomly around. I grinned as she started to wriggle with every smack, shifting around on my lap.
Gradually, my slaps became harder, and I eventually stopped rubbing – I wanted this to truly hurt. My hand moved from cheek to cheek, and she winced and grumbled with every firm smack on her stinging backside.
After a while, I decided that it was enough of a warm-up. Grabbing the hem of her skirt, I slowly raised it. When her pink satin panties were revealed, I tutted. "I believe white cotton panties are traditional with the uniform," I said disapprovingly.
She grimaced. "Yeah, I think they are – but these are cuter," she protested.
I smiled at her logic, but wasn't going to let her get away with this. "Stand up," I told her, with a hard slap to her thigh. When she rose, I grabbed the waistband of her panties, slowly lowering them to her knees, inch by inch. I then looked up at her blushing face.
"Do you have a hairbrush?" I said. She looked confused, but nodded. "Fetch it." She reached for her panties, clearly intending to pull them up – or possibly down – but I smacked her hands away. "Leave those where they are, young lady."
With her panties around her knees, she shuffled off to her bedroom, bringing back a small, pink plastic hairbrush. I would have preferred something larger and wooden, but we can't always get what we want.
She placed the hairbrush in my outstretched hand, and then began to undo the ribbons in her hair. I wondered what she was doing, but then it hit me. "You think I'm going to brush your hair with this?"
She gave me a confused look. "Aren't you?" Her face scrunched up as she tried to think of an alternative use for it. "Did you want me to brush YOUR hair?"
Grinning at her innocence, I was about to explain what I was going to use the hairbrush for, but decided against it – it would be much funnier to show her instead. I patted my lap. "Back over my knee, young lady. We are far from done."
She bent back over. Her cute derriere was beginning to turn pink, and my handprints were clearly visible. I considered whether I should continue to use my hand for a while, but decided it was time to clear up her confusion. I tapped the little plastic brush against her quivering cheeks, and I could see the wheels turning in her head, before I smacked the brush down hard. The howl that left her lips put an end to her deliberation.
"Ow! You can't SPANK me with that hairbrush!" she protested indignantly. She shrieked as I give her a dozen firm smacks to her sit spots.
"Young lady, you are in no position to tell me what I can and can't do. Is that clear?" I replied strictly. I needed to nip her little protest in the bud.
"Ouch! I'm sorry, it's just – that stings!" she whined.
"It's supposed to," I explained. "Now lie still and take your medicine." I continued to tan her with the brush, and she squirmed and yelped. It was funny to watch her kick her legs because of the little plastic thing in my hand – if I had thought of bringing my ebony hairbrush with me, I would have taught her what a REAL hairbrush spanking was like.
After a few minutes of hard brushing, tears were rolling down her cheeks, and she was zealously promising to be good. Her pleas and protests were music to my ears, and I smiled blissfully. After a while, I started to rub the brush in circles on her bottom. "I think you've learned your lesson about wearing the right underwear from now on, haven't you?"
"Oh, yes, Vanessa! I promise!" she said earnestly, eager to do to anything that would lessen her punishment.
"If you ask me VERY nicely, I might go back to using my hand instead of this hairbrush. But make sure you ask NICELY,” I said, tapping the brush ominously against her sit spots.
Whimpering as she pictured the obvious consequences for failure, she took a deep breath to calm herself, then spoke. "I am very sorry for not wearing my uniform panties, Vanessa. Please give me a good spanking with your hand."
I smiled. "Good girl," I told her, placing the brush down on the table, and heard her breathe a sigh of relief. I then patted her sore backside with my hand, grinning at the way she clenched and unclenched her cheeks, before continuing to spank her.
My palm was firm enough to make her squirm under any circumstances, but on a bottom that had already been tenderized by the hairbrush, it seemed remarkably effective. She was soon sobbing too hard to plead coherently, and kicking as if trying to run a marathon. An arm around her waist was enough to hold her in place, however – she was too small to escape from me.
Finally, she broke down, too spent to fight as my hand continued its relentless assault on her burning bottom. I continued to spank her for another minute or two, just to get my point across, then helped her up and comforted her. Soon, she was curled up in my lap, crying gently as I ran my fingers through her hair and told her what a good girl she was.
She looked so good on my lap – both bent over it, and curled up on it. It was like she belonged there. I wanted to keep her there forever, but I knew the next time I spanked her would be the last, and I didn't want to push my luck any further. Better to enjoy it while it lasted.
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