Hiatus

 I've recently had wrist surgery, which makes it hard to type. This blog is going on hiatus for a few weeks.

Linda at the nightclub (M/ff story)

Linda and Janet grinned to each other as they mingled on the dance floor. It was a lovely summer evening, and the pair were at the nightclub to drink, party, and flirt with boys. Two short, skinny, cute women with bubble butts and tiny skirts were always a popular sight. Blonde Linda placed an arm over her redhaired friend's shoulder. "Your glass is empty. Need a new one?" Janet nodded.

They were walking back to the bar, where Janet hoped she could flirt her way to another drink from one of the young men sitting there, when Linda suddenly stopped, a nervous expression spreading across her face. In front of her stood Lance, an occasional disciplinarian of hers, and he looked far from happy. The powerfully built man in his thirties was slightly less than six foot high, but when he approached them and scowled down at Linda, he towered over the little woman so that she looked like a small child. "What are you two doing here?" he asked with a voice that made both of the girls shiver. "The age limit here is twenty, last time I checked, and you're both nineteen."

"I'm dancing," Linda responded, scowling back at him. She was having fun, and she had no intention of listening to anyone asking her to behave.

"That's not what I meant, and you know that very well, little miss," he said, his voice somehow even sterner. "How did you get in?"

"I flirted with the bouncer, and he let us pass," she explained, grinning. "But what's so wrong about dancing a little?"

"What are you drinking?"

She tried to hide her glass by holding it behind her back, even though she knew it was far too late. "Soda," she responded while avoiding his gaze – Lance was a little TOO good at picking up when she was lying.

He grabbed her arm and forced her to hand him the drink. He lifted it up and sniffed the contents. The look he gave her made her bottom tingle unpleasantly. "You're also too young to be drinking spirits, Linda. That means this place can lose their liquor licence if anyone discovers it. Do you want the nightclub to close just because you can't wait for your next birthday?" Janet didn't even try to resist when he grabbed her glass as well. Even though it was empty, he could smell clearly what had been in it. "You as well?" he said, scowling at her. "You two are coming with me, and we will discuss this somewhere more private."

Linda folded her arms in front of her chest and poked her tongue up at him. "We don't want to. Me and Janet are going to continue partying."

"I wasn't asking," Lance responded calmly. With little effort, he picked her up and placed her over his shoulder. He glanced over at Janet, who took a step forward as if to show that she was a good girl and would come along without needing to be carried.

With one girl squirming on his shoulder and the other obediently following him, Lance started to move away from the crowd. Linda blushed so much she was struggling to breathe – to be scolded like a little girl in the middle of the club was bad enough, but to be placed over his shoulder and carried away like a sack of potatoes? How embarrassing! She struck her fists against his back to make him put her down, but he responded by smacking her butt with his palm, so she quickly stopped. To be carried was embarrassing, but to be slapped on the butt while everyone was watching was even worse, and she also didn't want to make him any angrier than he already was. In addition, his smacks were quite painful.

Linda's essay (M/ff story)

"I must say I was impressed by the essay you handed in on Monday, Linda," Hannah said with a big smile on her face. "Well-written, with effective arguments, and a good length. Without a doubt the best essay I’ve seen in some time!"

The nineteen-year-old grinned back at her teacher, pleased with being praised. She was far from being the best student in class, so it didn't happen often.

"In fact, I thought it was so good I had to show it to May, who's the teacher of 2D. You know, the class your friend Janet goes to?" Hannah drummed her fingers on the desk.

Linda's smile faded a little. Her heart was beating rapidly in her chest, but she did her best to look innocent.

"And you know what's strange? May had just read the same essay." Hannah folded her arms in front of her chest, raising an eyebrow. "So how is it that you and Janet handed in the same essay? Care to explain that, Linda?"

Linda shrugged. "We're quite similar, after all… so it was probably a coincidence?" she said, still wearing her most innocent expression. There was no reason not to try to bluff her way out of this, was there?

The smile that Hannah sent her student was completely devoid of her customary warmth and kindness. "Really? You should explain that to the principal. He's waiting for you in his office, and seemed very interested in hearing what you have to say."

Her classmates giggled as Linda rose with a blush on her face. Hannah did nothing to stop them, since she felt Linda deserved to hear their laughter.

As Linda walked towards the principal's office, she met Janet, who had clearly been sent there for the same reason. "You too?" Janet said quietly when she saw her friend. It was clear that she was nervous for what was about to happen; Janet never got into trouble.

"Your essay was too good," Linda said sharply as they walked down the hallway. "If it had been a little more average, they wouldn't have shown it to each other." Janet lowered her head, and Linda knew she shouldn't have said it – she was just being cruel to try to cover her own nervousness. But she still wasn't going to apologise.

Principal Rockall was a large, powerfully built and fairly scary-looking man known for maintaining strict discipline. Sitting behind his desk, he watched the two girls with a dark expression on his face, but Linda was more worried about the large wooden paddle he was holding, tapping it against his left palm. It looked very painful, and Linda didn't like the sound it made. She had a feeling she'd like the paddle even less in a few minutes.

The principal had listened to their explanation, and was not convinced. "I cannot believe you have been cheating on an essay. Two grown girls like you, supposedly adults, sneaking around like little children." He shook his head. "Do you know the punishment for cheating at this school?" Both girls nodded gloomily, but he chose to tell them anyway. "A good spanking on your bare bottoms." He placed the paddle down, pushed the chair away from his desk, and scowled at Janet. "You're the youngest, so we'll deal with you first. Come here!"

Janet approached him nervously, and stood before him like he had ordered. The principal started to unbutton her jeans, before determinedly pulling them down to her knees. He then grabbed the waistband of her underwear, and her cute, pink little panties were also lowered. Janet blushed, ashamed of being undressed like this, and the tears rolled down her face before he'd even started to spank her.

Principal Rockall picked up the half-naked woman as if she was a small child and placed her over his lap. She made no attempts to resist, and lowered her head in despair when he began to rub her naked, quivering bottom. "I hope this teaches you honesty," Rockall declared while lifting his hand over his head.

The ghost girl 2 (M/FF story)

It was my second day in the sleepy little Polish town whose name I could neither remember nor spell. The night before, I had taken a shortcut through the town's ancient graveyard, where I had encountered the ghost of a beautiful young woman. The maiden, whose name was Krystyna, told me that she still felt guilty about her disobedience to her parents in life, preventing her from reaching her eternal rest. To my surprise, she asked me to quieten her conscience by taking her over my knee and spanking her. I obliged, giving her the long, hard, bare-bottomed spanking she told me she needed.

After the spanking, the girl turned to mist in the middle of a wonderful kiss, and I stumbled into the nearest bar, where I learned from the woman working there that I wasn't the first young man to see the spirit – nor the first to place her over my lap. In fact, it had happened quite often; despite what she had said, it was for her enjoyment, nor her salvation. The bartender suggested that I should visit the spirit again the next night to punish her for deceiving me, and I readily agreed with the suggestion.

In the evening, I returned to the lovely little bar, which was just as quiet as the night before. The young woman behind the counter was not the one I’d met the night before. "Hello. Is –" I was about to ask where she was, when I realized I hadn't actually asked for her name.

The bartender smiled, calling out over her shoulder. "Teresa!" This was followed by a string of Polish that I assumed, based on no evidence whatsoever, meant something like "That guy you mentioned is here!" What luck – now I had her name!

The young, dark-haired woman from last night emerged from the back. "There you are! You are going to face the ghost again, yes?"

I nodded. "You said you were going to lend me something?"

With a smile, she placed her hand in her pocket, pulling out a large, old wooden hairbrush. "I think this will be very effective," she said. There was a strange gleam in her eye as she handed it to me. "This hairbrush can really sting a young woman's bare bottom."

I looked at it, tapping it against my palm. "Thank you. I believe it will." I glanced at my watch. "Almost midnight. Do you think she'll be there?"

Teresa nodded. "She often shows up around this time.” She placed her hand on my arm. “Do not forget to return here afterwards so you can tell your story – and give me the hairbrush."

"Don't worry, I'll return it," I promised, before heading out.

The graveyard was not far away. I entered, but as I started walking around, glancing at the tombs and looking for the mischievous spirit, I was almost certain I heard footstep behind me. Was it the sounds of the ghost I was looking for? Another phantom entirely? Something else? Or just my imagination? I tried to stare into the night, but saw nothing.

It was a chill night, and I wrapped my coat tighter around me. The moon was up, so it was not completely dark, but trying to find a ghost the colour of marble among the statues was not an easy task. I glanced at my watch again. I had been out here for forty minutes and hadn't seen a sign of her. "Krystyna! Where are you?" I called out in frustration.

"You are looking for me?" I heard a teasing whisper in my ear. I spun around to find the girl behind me, grinning. "Adam! How nice to see you again!"

"What happened to your eternal rest?" I commented drily.

She shrugged. "Eventually, maybe. For now, I live – in a manner of speaking, of course."

"You didn't ask me to spank you to quieten your conscience! You enjoyed it, didn't you?"

She nodded. "Of course – and so did you! Do not think me so innocent that I do not know what poked me in the belly when I was over your lap." She grinned impishly. Noticing my expression, she sighed. "Adam, why are you being angry? I was happy, you were happy – why so unhappy now?"

"You lied to me!" I told her. "You deliberately misled me."

"Yes, I did," she said, grinning even wider and clapping her hands. "Oh, what fun!"

"Well, I think you need to be disciplined for your deception," I said, pulling out the brush and tapping it against my palm.

Krystyna gasped, both hands in front of her mouth, before smiling blissfully. "Oh, Adam! For me? How lovely!"