Angus sighed as he looked at the mess his housemate Tommie had made of the kitchen. The lanky blond man shook his head in disbelief. "How exactly did you accomplish this?"
The short, curvy redhead shrugged. "I was cooking."
"You were frying an egg!"
"Eggs are tricky," she said defensively, pouting.
Usually, the college only housed opposite-sex students in the same flat if they knew each other, but a mistake had been made – Angus suspected Tommie's name had confused someone. When the error was discovered, it had been too late in the process to fix it, but the pair had shrugged and given it a try. They had separate bedrooms, so what was the issue? Angus had secretly hoped that a female housemate would be cleaner than the boys he'd lived with before, but over the weeks they'd lived together, Tommie had certainly proven him wrong. She was easily the messiest person he'd ever met. The fact that she played loud music when he was trying to sleep was just the icing on the cake.
Still shaking his head at the state of the kitchen, Angus commented "You know, I think I'd get my butt spanked if I'd made a mess like this at home."
Tommie blushed a fiery red, squirming at his words. "Oh, come on, don't be silly. Nobody gets spanked these days, do they?"
"I was spanked growing up," he told her, "And you'd better believe it taught me not to walk away from messes like this."
"Were you!?" Tommie stared at him as if he was a wondrous visitor from another planet, her eyes wide and shining. "When? Where? How? By who?"
Surprised at her interest and embarrassed by the questions about his old punishments, Angus ignored her and started to clean, hoping she'd take some responsibility for her own mess. She eventually chipped in, but also continued to badger him for information. As the interrogation showed no signs of stopping, he finally decided to tell her what she wanted to know, eager to get back to the usual silence of the flat.
"I was spanked by my mother. Sometimes on the spot, bent under the arm, but usually, I was sent to my bedroom to change into my pyjamas, which she always pulled down before taking me over her knee. I was then sent straight to bed afterward. She always used her hand, but if she thought I'd been particularly naughty, I got the hairbrush as well."
To his dismay, sharing these personal, painful memories did nothing to quell her curiosity, as she constantly found new questions. "Did it hurt? Did you cry? How long did the marks last? Could you sit comfortably? When was the first time you were spanked? When was the last time? How often did it happen? Was it only your mother – were you ever spanked by someone else? Did you ever have to do corner time afterward?"
"Why are you so interested?" he demanded after a while. "Weren't you ever spanked?"
"No, of course not," she told him. "I grew up in the twenty-first century!"
The questions continued the next day, and the day after that. Angus mostly ignored her, but when the questions got too tiresome, he eventually relented and answered her – which was a terrible idea, since it rewarded her for being annoying, but he didn't know what else to do.
Friday was the fourth day after the kitchen mess. The two were sitting in front of the TV, watching a panel show, and Angus was enjoying the unaccustomed silence. No stupid questions, no needling, just the finest British comedy and –
"Were you ever spanked in front of anyone else? Who was it, and why?" Tommie suddenly said.
Angus sighed. She just wouldn't shut up, and he'd finally had enough. "Tommie, if you're so curious about spankings, I think I know what you need. Go change into your pyjamas, and I'll put you across my knee and give you a good spanking. Maybe that will answer all your questions."
Tommie turned so pale that he was genuinely worried that she was about to pass out. Without a sound, she leapt to her feet and ran to her room. He raised an eyebrow – he'd only meant to shut her up, not chase her away. She'd probably sulk in her room all day, whining about how mean her housemate was. Well, at least he'd be able to watch TV in peace. Unless she started playing music, of course.
A few minutes later, he heard footsteps approaching. His eyes widened as he looked up at Tommie, who was standing next to him. She was wearing pink pyjamas, her red hair had been tied in pigtails, and she was fidgeting, a nervous look on her face. "I'm… I'm ready for my spanking, daddy."
He stared up at her, wondering just how to explain to her that it hadn't been a serious offer. It was just something he had said to make her shut up. He hadn't expected her to accept it.
He opened his mouth to break it to her, but suddenly changed his mind. Clearly, this was something she desperately wanted, and something he could give her with no discomfort on HIS part, so why not? Maybe it would help her, as well. He rose to his feet, turning her toward her bedroom door. "Back to the bedroom, young lady," he said, propelling her forward with a smack to the seat of her pyjamas that caused her to let out an excited yelp.
He walked a few steps behind her, enjoying the sight. Tommie's pyjamas were about one size too small, tightening nicely over a lovely rear end. Angus had long maintained that Tommie had a very attractive bottom, and concluded that he'd enjoy getting his hands on it. Besides, maybe a good spanking would teach her to clean up after herself. Nothing else he had done had worked.
For the first time, Angus saw the inside of Tommie's bedroom. It was far more pink than he had anticipated. Tommie stood near the bed, pensively chewing her finger, looking like a naughty little girl about to be placed over her father's knee.
Angus sat down on the bed, trying to remember how his own childhood punishments had gone. There was something about being made to admit what you'd done wrong, wasn't there? "What is going to happen now, young lady?"
"You- you're going to put me across your knee and spank me, daddy," Tommie whispered in a tiny voice, fidgeting. Angus had never wanted a woman to call him 'Daddy', and had always thought it seemed a bit creepy, but from Tommie's lips, it sounded good.
"And why?"
She frowned. She wasn't entirely sure about that. "Because I was naughty?" she hazarded.
"Because you always leave a mess and never clean up after yourself," he corrected her. "And because you keep badgering me with silly questions, not letting me have a moment's peace."
"They're not silly!" she protested. "And besides –" Seeing the look on his face, she quickly folded. "Sorry, daddy. I'll be good, daddy, I promise."
"Let's make sure of that, shall we?" He pulled her closer by the waistband of her pyjama bottoms. Tommie bit her lip nervously as he began to lower them, but she didn't protest. His housemate turned out to be one of those girls who didn't wear panties under her pyjamas. At the sight of her neatly trimmed pubic hair, Angus could feel himself rise to the occasion, but he quickly put that thought out of his head. This wasn't about sex, he reminded himself. Or at least he didn't think it was.
He pulled the pyjamas bottoms down to her knees, leaving her standing before him naked from the waist down. Placing one hand on her back, he guided her over his lap. She stretched out on her bed, her bare bottom resting invitingly on his lap. She blushed as he began to gently stroke her behind, and he watched the goosebumps forming on her cute butt as she waited for him to begin.
He lifted his hand and started to smack her bottom. While he'd never given a spanking before, he'd received plenty, so he was quite familiar with the procedure. He delivered some firm slaps to the meatiest part of her backside, and the yelps that escaped her lips suggested that he was doing a good job. He smacked hard and fast – if she was so curious about spanking, he wanted her to experience the real thing.
Tommie wriggled her rear end enticingly as he smacked her. Quickly getting over his initial nervousness, he soon developed a rhythm, spanking from cheek to cheek as he did his best to cover every inch of her ample posterior. She was letting out cute little hisses and squeals as he spanked her, and while she was soon squirming and promising to be good, he could also tell that she was enjoying it.
He grinned as he watched the pink handprints sinking into her once-pale cheeks, painting the entire surface. He also made sure to target the top of her thighs, knowing that sitting would be an interesting experience for some time. Soon, she was kicking her legs and squirming so much that he had to place his hand on her back to hold her in place.
As the first tears fell, Angus decided it was enough for a first-timer. He helped her up and pushed her into the nearest corner. "Face the wall, hands on your head, and think about what you've done," he scolded.
She sniffled as she obediently assumed the position. "Yes, daddy." After a few seconds, she reached her hand down and began to rub her burning cheeks.
"Hands on your head," he repeated sternly. "If you try to rub again, I'll put you back across my lap."
Her hand immediately flew back up, and she whimpered. After a few seconds, it began to creep slowly back down again. He raised an eyebrow – either she was testing him, or she wanted him to continue. Either way, she'd soon realize that he hadn't been joking.
He grabbed her earlobe, as well as her hairbrush, and dragged her back to the bed. She immediately tried to apologize, saying that she was very sorry for disobeying him and she'd really like to be put back in the corner to try again, but he ignored her. He sat down on the bed, jerking her back across his knee, and started to spank her with the back of her own hairbrush. It was large, wooden, and well-suited, and at the back of his mind, he wondered if this was the purpose she'd had in mind when she bought it. While his hand had made her yelp, the brush made her howl.
Soon, she was bucking to the tune of the brush, blubbering incoherently as he painted her backside red. She was pleading with him to stop, but he had no intention of giving her less than what she'd earned. Soon, they'd see how much she liked spanking after all.
The hairbrush rose and fell with loud cracks, flattening her buttocks as it struck. Tears were pouring down her face, and she kicked her legs furiously. She tried to reach her hand back, but he caught it and held it to the small of her back, allowing him to continue his assault on her blistered bottom.
Eventually, the dam broke. She lay limply over his lap, too exhausted to try to struggle free. When he helped her up and started to comfort her, whispering soothingly as he stroked her back and ran her fingers through her hair, she sobbed into his shirt, promising to be best little girl in the world. When she had calmed down, he tucked her into bed, kissing her forehead before he left the room – it seemed the most appropriate thing to do. He returned to the living room to watch TV, and she fell asleep with a blissful smile on her face.
While Angus had wished for a slight improvement to her behaviour, the reality turned out far better than he'd dared hope. Most of the time, she remembered to clean up after herself, and when she forgot, a stern glance was enough to make her jump to her feet and take care of it immediately. He wasn't sure why it worked as well as it did; was she afraid that he'd spank her if she didn't? Wasn't that what she wanted? But he decided to accept it and not look the gift horse in the mouth.
Since he'd cleaned up so many of her messes, she also started to help him with his part of the housework. He didn't think that this was necessary, but decided to keep that opinion to himself, and saw no reason to discourage her. She also stopped asking questions about his childhood punishments – the only questions he received about spankings were "May I have one, please, daddy?" And the answer was always "Of course, Tommie."
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