Tiffany's request (M/f story)

The doorbell rang late one Saturday afternoon as I was sitting on the sofa solving a crossword. I opened the door to find a gangly teenager in a green top and blue jeans, and with her short, red hair in pigtails. She gave me a friendly smile, though she was also clearly somewhat nervous. "Hello, Mister Fenwick."

"Hello." There was a pause as I tried to remember whether I'd met her before, when I suddenly recognized her. "You're Tiffany, aren't you? Christina's friend?" Christina was the daughter of my neighbour Brenda.

She nodded. "May I come in?"

"Of course," I said, stepping aside to let her enter, though I was wondering why this girl would be visiting a middle-aged man on a Saturday evening, when she should probably be out partying. She removed her shoes and followed me into the living room. "May I get you anything?" I asked. "A cup of tea? Some soda? I might have a pack of biscuits in a drawer somewhere…"

"Just a glass of water, please," she said quietly.

I fetched her a glass and a jug of water, and I also took the opportunity to refill my teacup. I sat back down on the sofa, directing her towards my best comfy chair. "Now, Tiffany. What can I do for you today?"

She bit her lip, trying to figure out what to say next. I smiled cheerfully, trying to make her feel comfortable, but remained quiet to give her time to think. After a few seconds, she looked at me. "I know that you spank Christina," she told me.

I raised an eyebrow at this unusual topic of discussion. "What makes you say that?" I replied noncommittally. I couldn't imagine Christina telling her about her punishments, and I saw no reason to share any details with her friend either.

"I was at her house once to borrow some shoes," Tiffany said quietly, a far-away look in her eyes. "When I arrived, she wasn't home, but she returned a few minutes later – rubbing the seat of her jeans with a tear-stained face. Her mother grinned and told me everything."

I nodded. That sounded like Brenda, all right. She was delighted when I put her daughter in her place, and was not shy about taking the opportunity to embarrass her further.

"I also know that she's not the only girl around here that you spank," Tiffany went on. "Marybeth was willing to describe the trips over your lap, and Abigail even raised her skirt and showed me the marks." She blushed. "She let me touch them."

There were a few single mothers in the neighbourhood who had a daughter they were unable or unwilling to handle. They would send them over to me with a letter describing their infraction, and I would punish the girl as I saw fit. I then wrote a note about how they were punished, signing it to let the mother know that justice had been served. It was not a service I particularly enjoyed, but I was always willing to help someone who needed it.

I could tell that Tiffany still had something to say, so I stayed silent.

She filled her glass, taking a slow sip as she prepared herself. "And that's why I'm here," she said, putting the glass down. "To be spanked."
I nodded, not entirely surprised. Like I said, it was a service I provided to several of the mothers in the neighbourhood. I was wondering why her mother wasn't here, and why she hadn't brought a letter – maybe describing her misbehaviour was meant to be part of the punishment, but I wouldn't trust a mischievous young lady who was about to be spanked to tell the truth about such things. "Are you also raised by a single mother, then?" I asked.

She shook her head. "I live with both my parents."

"Oh. Why don't they spank you themselves?"

"My parents don't believe in spankings," she sighed.

I frowned, puzzled by this response – and the tone in which it was delivered. "Then why would they send you to me?"

"No one sent me," she replied. "I came here on my own accord."

This was getting more and more confusing. "You came here by your own free will to be spanked?" I asked. She nodded. "Is there something you feel guilty about? Some misbehaviour you feel was overlooked, or insufficiently handled?"

She thought about it, then shrugged. "Nothing I can think of."

"Then why in the world are you here, asking me to spank you?" I asked, bewildered.

She gave me a warm smile. "Mister Fenwick, I've always wanted to be spanked. For as long as I remember. Every time I saw spankings in movies or books or comics, my tummy would do a funny little flipflop. Growing up, I always dreamed I'd find some stern older man to take me over his knee and give me a good, hard spanking." She grinned. "And here you are! In my own neighbourhood!"

I stared at her. This was certainly not what I'd been expecting. "I don't think this is a good idea, Tiffany," I said softly.

She looked crestfallen. "Why not?"

"You haven't done anything wrong!"

She pouted. "What if I start swearing a lot? Vandalism? Shoplifting? I could throw something at you, if you'd like…"

"What do you think your parents would say?"

"I'm nineteen," she said with a shrug. "I'm an adult. Why does it matter what they think?"

"Tiffany, I don't think this is right," I said, gently, but firmly.

I could see tears in her eyes as she looked at me. "Mister Fenwick, why is it right to pull a girl's knickers down and spank her if she's begging you not to, but it's wrong if she's asking you to do it? Explain that to me."

"That's different," I exclaimed.

"Yes, I know it's different. Why is it wrong?"

I didn't have an answer for her. I looked at the girl sniffling in my comfy chair and felt a great deal of pity for her. Should I just give her what she wanted? What would be the harm? If I took her over my lap and spanked her backside, she would soon regret her request and give up this foolish obsession. She'd have trouble sitting for a while, but she would survive – and it was no more than she deserved for this silliness.

"As you wish," I told her. She looked at me, her eyes hopeful, but not quite willing to believe it. "If a spanking is what you want, I will give you one. That should sate your curiosity."

She grinned, drying her tears. "Really? Thank you, Mister Fenwick! Thank you so much!"

"But!" I warned her. "There will be no backing out. Once you're over my lap, you will remain there until you've had a proper spanking."

She nodded. "Perfect! That's just what I wanted."

I told her to fetch the straight-backed chair leaning against the wall, and she hurried over, grabbing it and placing it in the middle of the floor without a moment's hesitation. No young lady who was about to get a smacked bottom had ever moved so fast in my house. There was something unsettling about her enthusiasm, though I was certain it wouldn't last long once the spanking actually begun. I sat down, and as she stood before me, I started to unbutton and unzip her jeans. "Considering the unusual circumstances, I don't think I will be pulling your panties down," I told her. "It's not appropriate."

"I was worried you'd say something like that," she responded as I lowered her jeans. "That's why I didn't wear any."

"Tiffany!" I scowled. "This is indecent!"

She grinned, standing before me naked from the waist down. "Oh yeah? What are you going to do about it? Spank me?"

I sighed, pulling her over my lap. Usually, being sentenced to a spanking made a girl LESS bratty, but Tiffany had proved to be somewhat different. A giggle escaped her as I pushed her forward, raising her bottom over my knee and moving her head towards the floor.

"This is actually happening," she squealed with delight as she stared down at the carpet. "This is wonderful! You're going to spank hard, right?" Instead of answering her, I lifted my hand and gave her a dozen firm slaps – six to each cheek. "Oh!" she exclaimed. "That stings!"

"It's supposed to, young lady," I scolded. "It's a spanking." I spanked her just like I'd done with any naughty young lady who found herself over my lap – hard and fast. As previously mentioned, I didn't consider this a pleasant chore, so I wanted to get it over with as soon as possible. My hand moved from cheek to cheek, flattening her bottom with every firm slap.

It took only a couple of minutes for her once-pale seat to turn bright pink. She was letting out a little squeal every time my hand struck, and she was trying to kick her legs – which was made harder by the jeans that where still around her knees.

I continued to thrash her, intending to give her the full experience. She'd asked for this, and I wanted to show her that sometimes, you should be careful what you ask for. My handprints covered every inch of her posterior, and I'd also given a couple of hard swats to her thighs – those really had her yelping. I paid special attention to her sit spots, making sure she'd feel this spanking when she tried to sit down.

By this point, she was squirming over my lap, and I had to wrap my arm around her waist to hold her in place. I'd delivered many spankings before, and I knew just how to make a young lady regret her actions – though I'll admit that never before had that action been coming up to me and saying 'May I please have a spanking'. Tears were flowing down her face, dripping down on the carpet, and some of the particularly hard spanks made her howl.

I gazed down at the well-spanked young lady over my lap, her bottom looking like two ripe tomatoes, and decided she'd had enough. "You can stand up now, Tiffany," I said gently. "Your punishment is over."

She rose to her feet, doing the familiar spanking dance – jumping from foot to foot while trying to rub the sting from her bottom. After a minute or so, she turned to face me, both hands clutching her stinging seat. To my shock, she still had a grin on her tear-stricken face. "Wow! That was great, Mister Fenwick! Just what I wanted. You're really good at this, you know that?"

I was taken aback. It seemed my plan to change her mind had failed.

She winced as she squeezed her buttocks. "Wow! It's going to hurt to sit down for a couple of days, I think." She looked at me. "Can we do this again? And soon? Please?" She batted her eyelashes, giving me her best puppy eyes.

I was about to refuse this absurd request, but I thought about it. While I could not understand her point of view, it was clear she truly wanted this. The good, sound spanking I've given her had not discouraged her in the slightest. Could I really crush her heart again? It only took a few minutes of my time and caused me no discomfort, and it was clear that it brought her some sort of joy. In the end, I nodded.

She squealed. "Yay! Thank you so much, Mister Fenwick!" She ran forward, throwing her arms around my neck and hugging me. "Thank you, thank you, thank you! Can you use the paddle next time? From the way they described it, it sounds awesome!"

"If you wish," I told her, somewhat taken aback by her enthusiasm. I wondered if she would regret that request, or whether I was underestimating her again. "Now, put your clothes on, young lady."

She pulled her jeans up. A moan escaped her lips as the rough fabric tightened around her sore rear end, but I don't think it was a moan of pain – at least not entirely. She came up to me, kissing me on the cheek. "Thank you so much, Mister Fenwick. You are a wonderful man, and I hope you realize that."

And with that, she left my house, grinning to herself as one hand reached back to rub her stinging rear.