Sylvia, ex-girlfriend's mother (M/F story)

When my doorbell rang one Saturday evening as I was sitting in front of the TV, I was not expecting to find my ex-girlfriend's mother standing on my doorstep.

"Hello, Roland," she said, giving me a friendly smile. "May I come in? I hope I'm not disturbing you – I should probably have phoned ahead."

"Hello, Mrs. Cohen," I replied, taking a step to the side to let her pass. "Please, come in. I was just watching an old movie and trying to remember if I'd seen it before."

"I've told you a million times to call me Sylvia," she scolded playfully as she hung up her coat.

I first met Sylvia Cohen about two years ago, which was three months into my relationship with her daughter Violet. Violet and I had gone to the same high school, and had started dating shortly after we ended up in the same college class. I only learned later that she'd deliberately chosen the same college as me so that she could get closer to me, which was flattering. She herself had no interest in drama – or at least not in studying it; on the other hand, I soon found out that she was an absolute master at creating it.

I admit I was feeling a little nervous when I met my girlfriend's mother for the first time, but Sylvia had greeted me warmly and seemed pleasantly surprised with the young man dating her only daughter. In fact, she seemed to grow fonder of me with every month that passed.

I had always enjoyed those occasional chats with Sylvia, but it was a bit of a surprise to find her in my home two weeks after my relationship with her daughter had ended. What could we have to talk about now? "So, what brings you here?" I said as I brought her a cup of coffee. Milk, two sugars – just the way she liked it.

"I just had to talk to you and see how you were getting on." She shook her head. "That girl has no sense whatsoever! She just made the biggest mistake of her life by letting you slip through her fingers, and she doesn't even realize it. But don't worry – she will."

I raised an eyebrow at that, choosing not to comment. It was flattering, of course, but I wondered how I'd feel if MY mother had gone to my ex to tell them how much of a moron I was. In my experience, mothers tended to be more supportive, even when they disagreed.

"Not only were you good to her, but you were good FOR her," she said, huffing. "After she started dating you, she was far easier to have in the house, and she got better at picking up after herself. You should have seen her grades, too!"

I smiled. Having someone show up in my living room to praise me to the skies wasn't how I'd expected my Saturday evening to go, but I had no complaints. I was feeling quite good about myself. "Nice of you to say so, Mrs. Cohen. I think it's a matter of setting a good example, and being there for her when she needs it."

She snorted. "You're free to think that, of course, but I think it's all those spankings you gave her."

The cup in my hand stopped halfway to my lips as I stared at her. I was glad I hadn't been drinking when she said it, as I would probably have spat the coffee all across my table – and possibly my guest. I wasn't aware that Violet had shared that part of our relationship with her mother. I certainly hadn't mentioned it to mine.

"Oh, Violet never said anything," Sylvia said, seeming to guess my thoughts. "She didn't have to. I could tell by the way she squirmed around on her chair after one or your little private discussions, and how she'd wear a nice skirt instead of those faded, holey, TIGHT jeans. They're a lot less painful for a sore bottom!" She chuckled. "A couple of times, when she was on the phone with you, I could see her absently rub her rear end when she knew you were upset with her. Thinking about past punishments – or possibly dreading upcoming ones."

"You approve, then?" I said as I sipped my coffee. I saw no reason to try to deny her observations.

"Wholeheartedly. In fact, I think that Violet losing your discipline might be the worst part of this breakup. Some women benefit from struggling to sit on a sore seat from time to time."

"Have you ever spanked her?"

She shook her head. " I've never been comfortable with the idea of taking my daughter across my knee. It just doesn't feel right. That was always her father's job. When he was alive, he handled all the spankings in the house." She sighed wistfully. "Violet's – and mine."

I stared at her. Was she saying what I thought she was saying?

"Yes," she said, once again responding to my unspoken thoughts. "My dear departed husband would bend me over his lap and spank my backside whenever he thought I deserved it – which was often." She smiled at the memory. "I must admit, when I realized that you were spanking Violet, I felt more than a little envious. A proper young gentleman, able and willing to deliver the discipline the young lady so sorely needed." She sighed. "You remind me of him, in some ways."

"I'm sure Violet would have gifted you every single one of her spankings if she could. I never got the feeling that she enjoyed them much – in fact, she pleaded quite insistently for them to stop, every single time."

She laughed. "Good to hear. That must be why they were so effective." Her smile vanished, and she gazed at me. "Now, believe me, despite my …. needs, I would NEVER ask my daughter's boyfriend to put me across his knee. That would be completely inappropriate, obviously." She grinned. "But you two are not dating any more, are you?"

The smoking landlady (M/F story)

Conrad had now rented the basement flat in the house of the middle-aged accountant Rebecca Trask for a little over a month. He considered himself very fortunate for finding the place; the house was old, but well-maintained, and only a short walk from the university where the nineteen-year-old studied.

Earlier that afternoon, a new chest of drawers had been delivered to the house, and Rebecca had asked the young athlete to help her carry it inside. They were now sitting in her living room chatting about life over a cup of coffee. In the weeks he'd been here, Conrad had found it easy to talk to his new landlady.

During the conversation, Rebecca pulled a pack of cigarettes and a lighter out of her purse. She lit a cigarette and took a drag, then raised an eyebrow as she looked at Conrad. "I take it you disapprove of my little habit?"

"What makes you think that?" he replied evenly. "I've said nothing."

"You don't have to. It's written all over your face," she said, smiling.

The teenager shrugged. "Obviously, you can do whatever you want to your own body in your own home. But surely you know it's not good for you – or those around you," he said, managing to resist the urge to cough meaningfully.

She nodded. "I know. I've been trying to quit, but it's very hard. Have you ever smoked?"

"No, but an ex-girlfriend of mine used to."

"Used to? How did she stop?" Rebecca inquired.

"Every time she smoked, I spanked her," he said calmly, showing not the slightest trace of hesitation or embarrassment.

"Really?" she said, looking wide-eyed at him as she tried to process this.

He nodded. "Every time she lit a cigarette, I lit up her butt," he said. "It didn't happen overnight, but with enough encouragement…"

She laughed. "I see! Well, I can imagine that being quite an effective treatment for a young lady! She can protect her lungs and her backside at the same time."

They soon changed the subject. If Conrad noticed that his landlady seemed distracted for the rest of the conversation, as if she was pondering something, he didn't say anything about it.


It was a week later that Rebecca knocked on the door to Conrad's flat. It was a warm spring day, and the teenager was wearing a new t-shirt and an old pair of shorts. His landlady was dressed in a long summer dress. "Mrs Trask! What can I do for you?" he said with a welcoming smile.

"I've told you to call me Rebecca," she chided gently. "Can I come in?"

He stepped aside to let her in, and she quickly scanned the flat as she entered. As she had expected, it was a lot cleaner than most teenagers' living quarters; Conrad had shown himself to be a responsible young man.

They sat down on the couch. Conrad could tell that there was something on her mind, but as she seemed to have trouble putting it into words, he stayed silent to allow her to collect her thoughts. Finally, she seemed to collect herself. "When you started… disciplining your girlfriend, how old were the two of you?"

He cast his mind back. "Well, it was a little over a year ago, so we were both eighteen."

She nodded. "Do you… do you think it would have been effective if she was older?"

He shrugged. "Well, I don't see why not. A spanked bottom will teach a naughty young lady of any age. In fact, she considered herself far too old for a spanking already – which she told me, at length, every time I pulled her over my lap and bared her bottom. I never let that stop me." He looked into her eyes. "Why did you ask? Did you have someone in mind?" There was something in his eyes that suggested to her that he'd guessed what she was thinking of.

She took a deep breath to steady her nerves. "Well, I- I've been trying to quit smoking, as you know. And I was wondering if maybe what I truly need is…" She blushed, avoiding his gaze. " It would probably help me if… if maybe –"

"If I took you over my knee and spanked your bottom every time you smoked?" he said, raising an eyebrow. "Is that what you are proposing, Rebecca?"

The exam bet 2 (M/F story)

 Sequel to last week's story.

 

The previous day, the 18-year-old student Dean had placed his classmate Chloe over his lap, giving her a bare-bottomed spanking for losing their bet over who would get the better grade – before discovering that she'd lied about her results; she had actually won the bet, but told him she hadn't, because she secretly wanted to be spanked by him. When he discovered all this, he'd promised the red-bottomed miscreant another spanking the following day, causing her to grin and give him some insincere protests.

It was now the following day, and Dean was back in Chloe's bedroom, sitting on her bed and ready to fulfil his promise. She stood before him fidgeting, toying with a strand of hair, and he could tell that she was both nervous and eager.

"Come here," he said as he waved her towards him. "I need to look at your bottom."

"You mean you WANT to look at my bottom," she teased.

"That too, of course. But I also need to see whether you're able to take another spanking already, or if we should postpone this."

"There is nothing wrong with my butt," she huffed, but obeyed.

"I'll be the judge of that," he said. He raised her skirt, wordlessly handing her the hem to hold. He placed his fingers in the waistband of her panties, quickly lowering them to her knees. She blushed at being undressed so casually, standing naked before him, but didn't protest at this treatment – nor at being turned around so that he could examine her rear. He rubbed his hand over her cheeks, pinching and squeezing here and there, which caused her to squeal and mutter indignantly.

"A bit pink," he said, "but I think you could take another spanking without problem." He smiled. "Well, we'll soon find out. You know, I think you should change into your gym clothes. Your bottom has always looked good in those shorts."

Pleased at the compliment, she shuffled over to the wardrobe to fetch her training outfit. She raised an eyebrow as she regarded him. "Are you going to leave the room while I change?" she asked pointedly. "Or at least turn around?"

"No," he said calmly. "Why would I do that?"

She shook her head, but was unable to hide her grin. There was something deliciously humiliating about the way he treated her. She pulled the shirt over her head, then unzipped her skirt and let it fall to the floor. Since her panties were still around her knees, the only thing protecting her modesty was her bra – which she quickly discarded. She could practically feel his eyes devour her as she stood there, naked as the day she was born.

She reached for a sports bra, but changed her mind. As far as she knew, she wouldn't actually be doing any exercise, and going without a bra under her gym shirt would present an appealing sight. She very much doubted Dean would object – and if he did, what would he do about it? Spank her?

She stepped out of her white cotton panties, replacing them with the dark, skimpy underwear she used for gym. Picking up her tight, dark grey gym shorts, she slipped them on, feeling them tighten over her rear. She wriggled her bottom in his direction, before slipping on the dark, sleeveless shirt she wore for gym.

She finally turned to look at Dean. Judging from the lascivious smile on his face, and the bulge in his trousers, he'd enjoyed the show just as much as she'd expected. "I've done as you asked, Dean. Now what?" she asked innocently, pretending to wonder what would happen next.

His grin widened. "Now, young lady, you're going over my knee for a good spanking."

The exam bet (M/F story)

"So, Dean, are you worried  about the upcoming exams?" Chloe said. The lanky blonde had a smirk on her face as she sat next to her classmate in the high school lunchroom.

He shrugged. "I've worked hard, now we'll see if it pays off." Dean was far from the tallest guy in class, but he had an athletic physique that many envied. His sandy hair and deep blue eyes had also earned him a few looks.

"I'll bet I'll get a better grade than you," Chloe said smugly.

"Maybe," he said noncommittally, showing no interest in continuing the conversation. He'd never cared about anyone's grades but his own, and at the age of eighteen, he expected a little more maturity from his classmates than these childish games and taunts.

"Hmph!" she frowned, annoyed that he wasn't responding to her attempts to rile him up. "How about this for a bet: if you get a better grade than me, I'll let you spank my bottom."

He stared at her, before glancing around to make sure they were not being overheard. He was about to refuse her absurd suggestion, but when he stopped and thought about it, he realized it had a certain appeal. Chloe had a very attractive bottom, and he'd often admired her too-tight gym shorts when they were out on the track – subtly, of course. He liked the thought of getting his hands on her soft cheeks, and taking her down a peg would be a welcome bonus. "And what if you get the better grade?" he asked.

"Then you'll be going over MY knee, of course," she said, smirking again. "A long and hard spanking, on the bare bottom, until you're sobbing."

He raised an eyebrow. She seemed to have thought about this a little too much, and it was an interesting glimpse into what went on in her mind. She always tried to maintain an image of purity, so it was enlightening to see a glimpse of the real person.

He thought about the offer, before eventually nodding. "It's a bet," he said. It was a risk, but one he was willing to take. The reward if he succeeded seemed worth it.


It was a week after the exams that they finally got the results, and they'd agreed to meet up at Chloe's house to compare. Before heading over, Dean opened his envelope to learn what his efforts had achieved. It turned out he'd received a B. A decent grade, and ordinarily, he'd be satisfied with it, but would it be enough? Chloe was a good student. Would he be able to take her over his knee and paint her butt red? Or would he be forced to bend over her lap, having his own backside spanked?

Envelope in hand, he walked over to her house. She grinned tauntingly at him as she opened the door and invited him inside, and they made their way to her bedroom. Her parents were out for the evening, so they knew they wouldn't be disturbed when the debt was settled.

"You've opened it already," she complained as she saw his envelope. "You've ruined the suspense."

"It was a B," managing to sound calmer than he felt. He showed her the sheet to confirm his words.

Her fingers trembled slightly as she picked up her own envelope, and Dean could feel his own heart beating in his chest. What would happen now? Had he won or lost? Who would end up receiving the promised spanking?