The violin teacher (M/F story)

"Let's try this one more time," I said calmly, doing my best to hide my annoyance. Jolie scowled at me, before lifting the violin bow and giving it another go. Sadly, the result was just as unimpressive as the last few attempts. "Did you forget to practice again?" I asked, no longer able to keep my voice level.

The eighteen-year-old blushed, placing her hands on her hips and glaring at me. "Of course I didn't, Elliott! I completed all the exercises you gave me, and –"

I raised an eyebrow, and the look I gave her was enough to make her fold and tell the truth.

"OK, I didn't," she admitted, sighing. "I was going to, but I was just –"

"'Was going to' is not good enough, Jolie," I said sternly. "I give you those exercises for a reason. Not only do you ignore your exercises, but you LIE to me about it?" I folded my arms in front of my chest. "You know what that means, don't you?"

She turned pale, swallowing nervously, and both hands reached back to clasp her bottom protectively. It was clear that she knew what I intended to do. "Please…" she whispered.

"Take down your jeans," I instructed.

"You can't do this," she muttered. "I'm an adult."

I sighed. "You said pretty much the same thing the last time this happened, didn't you? Did it help you then? No? Then what makes you think it will work this time?"

"My parents never spanked me," she sulked.

"When your parents hired me to come to their house and teach you the violin, they agreed that I could use whatever means of discipline I saw fit – and this is the most effective," I reminded her. "Would you like to explain to your parents that you no longer wish to learn the violin, and that my services are no longer required?" She shook her head. "Then I suggest you take your trousers down NOW, before I add extras."

Pouting pitifully, the teenager started to unbutton and unzip her jeans, pulling them down to her knees. I guided her over my lap so that her bottom was raised high in the air and her head faced the floor. I then placed my fingers in the waistband of her white knickers.

"Please, Elliott!" she squealed. "Can't you leave my panties up?"

"Jolie, have I ever spanked you over your panties?" I asked. "No? Can you give me a good reason why I should do it this time?"

"It's embarrassing," she whimpered.

"That's what makes it effective," I told her as I slipped her panties down to join her jeans around her knees. Wasting no more time, I lifted my hand and delivered a series of hard slaps to her pale, quivering buttocks.

Jolie gasped as the first smacks landed, but quickly bit her lip to stop herself from crying out. She always tried to take her spankings bravely – stay perfectly still, no tears, and no crying out. I don't know why she bothered, as she was always reduced to a sobbing, squirming, pleading mess by the time I was done.

I moved my hand from cheek to cheek, covering every inch of her posterior with hard, stinging spanks. She had wasted both my time and hers, and then lied to me about it, and I intended to make her sorry. She was still trying to be stoic, but when I focused my attention on her sit spots, the first squeals escaped her lips, and she began to wriggle. I knew it would not be long before tears fell.

As I punished the young miscreant, I happened to glance up, and was surprised to see someone peeking in through the door crack. I recognized Iris, Jolie's sister – a decade older than her, but with the same long, dark hair and almond eyes. The woman had moved out years ago, but still visited her parents and sisters often, and I had seen her around the house a couple of times.

When Iris realized that she'd been spotted, she blushed beet red and quickly closed the door. I decided that I needed to talk to her about that later – I was fairly sure Jolie didn't want her sister spying on her private punishments. However, right now, I had other matters to deal with, and Jolie still sounded far from contrite.

Forgetting his birthday (M/F story)

Hazel was standing outside her flatmate's bedroom door, trying to summon the courage to enter. Eventually, she took a deep breath, lifted her hand, and managed to knock.

"Come in," a dry, monotonous voice said.

She opened the door to find Giles sitting at his computer. He glanced up, nodding at her before returning his attention to the screen.

"Happy birthday," she said again, wringing her hands. "And… I'm SO sorry for forgetting about it!"

"It's fine," he said, trying to sound like he meant it. "It's not a big deal."

"It IS a big deal," she insisted. "I haven't bought anything, I didn't prepare anything… I had the day off! I could have baked a cake and prepared dinner for when you came home, maybe hung some decorations…"

"You didn't have to do any of that."

"You did it for MY birthday," she pointed out. "It was wonderful coming home to all that. I should have done the same."

"It's fine," he repeated, though he still didn't sound as convincing as he hoped.

"Giles, you're allowed to be upset when people close to you forget your birthday. You don't have to play the stoic act around me."

He shrugged. " We just share a flat. We're not dating or anything like that. We're on friendly terms, but not exactly besties. It's OK." He still stared at the computer screen, and it was clear that he wanted the conversation to be over.

"I don't even have a gift! Remember that necklace you bought for me? How many months in advance did you order that again?" She sighed. "If only I'd seen the notification before the shops closed."

"I told you, it's fine," he snapped, still not looking up from his screen.

"You say that, and I appreciate it, but I can tell you don't mean it," Hazel said. "I just feel so guilty about it." She bit her lip, wondering how to broach the subject that was on her mind. "I think I need to be punished."

He finally glanced up at her, narrowing his eyes. He stared at her for almost a minute before speaking. "Tread carefully," he warned her.

"You should spank me," she added. "Like you spanked Zelia."

The businesswoman and the waitress (F/F story)

Imogen was on a business trip to a town she'd never been in before, and late in the evening, she had somehow ended up on her own in all-night diner. The only people present were a group of giggling teenaged girls and the waitress, a young, slim, dark-haired woman whose name-badge identified her as Abby.

The waitress brought Imogen her third cup of coffee of the night, and she thanked her. The two women started chatting, and during their conversation, Abby nodded towards the teenagers at the other end of the room. "Look at them," she said disapprovingly. "It's a school night, and they're out this late? From the way they act, they've probably been drinking as well." She tutted disapprovingly.

Imogen looked at the girls, then back at the waitress. Abby didn't look that much older than the teenagers, but there was something in her eyes that suggested maturity beyond her years. "They look old enough to drink, don't they?"

Abby sniffed. "Possibly, but they're going to have a bit of a hangover in class tomorrow – unless they skip, of course." She shook her head. "Every single one of them needs a smacked bottom, but I suppose their parents are letting them down in that department."

Imogen squirmed in her chair, feeling a little hot under the collar as she glanced at the waitress. The mention of spanking had given her a funny little feeling in her stomach, and for some reason, she was feeling bold tonight. "Really? It's been more than a decade since I was a teenager, but I went out drinking more than once on a school night when I was their age," she said, sipping her coffee. "Are you saying I need a spanking?" Realizing her slip-up, she blushed as she corrected herself. "NEEDED a spanking, I mean."

Slowly, the waitress turned her gaze on the businesswoman. She smirked, and there was something in her look that suggested that she was reading Imogen's inner-most thoughts. "Perhaps," she said. Imogen stared out the window, avoiding the girl's eyes.

The waitress continued to look at her, and in the end, Imogen couldn't pretend to study the scenery any longer. "So," she said, taking a deep breath. "If you had been in charge of me back then, what would you have done? Bend me over a table and swatted my trousers right in front of them?"

Abby's grin grew wider. "Not at all. I would drag you into the back room for some privacy. I would then pull down your trousers and knickers, take you over my knee, and spank your bare little cheeks. When you were sorry for your misbehaviour, I'd send you to the corner with your hands on your head and your bare buns on display, so that I could admire my handiwork."

Imogen stared at her, unable to breathe. Her face burned like a forest fire, and she couldn't get the image of herself bent over the waitress' lap out of her head. Here she was, a successful businesswoman, being threatened with a spanking by a girl ten years younger than her. And somehow, it sounded quite appealing.

Delegating to her assistant 2 (M/F story)

There was a knock on the door to Barbara's home office. Jim poked his head in, smiling at his wife and her assistant Holly. "Hello, girls. Do you want lunch soon?"

As soon as she laid eyes on him, Holly beamed. "Hi, Daddy!" Realizing what she'd said, she clasped her hands in front of her mouth, blushing. "Sorry! It's just –"

"I told you, it's fine," he assured her. The week before, he'd pulled Holly over his knee and spanked her bare bottom, then carried her into the bedroom for some passionate lovemaking – and both of these were at his wife's suggestion, and while she watched. Considering everything that had happened, the nickname was probably the least inappropriate thing about their relationship. "You can call me Daddy if you want."

"Are you sure?" she said nervously, biting her fingernail. "You don't mind?"

He thought about it. "Well, it's frightfully naughty of you, so I may have to spank you for it later."

"Oh, no, that sounds dreadful," she responded, grinning.

He looked at his wife. "Lunch?"

"Not right now," she told him. "We're in the middle of something."

He frowned. "That's what you said yesterday, remember? And you didn't eat anything." He folded his arms in front of his chest. " I'll rephrase the question. Would you like to be able to sit down for your lunch, or do you need a talk with the paddle first?"

Barbara squirmed in her chair. She hated it when her husband scolded her in front of her assistant; it made her feel like a naughty little girl. And while she found Jim's stern side incredibly sexy, and the thought of spankings was arousing, she hated actually being spanked – which was why she'd delegated them to Holly. Realizing how close she was to actually being in trouble, she gave in. "How about some caprese sandwiches? In…" She glanced at the clock. "Fifteen minutes?"

"Sounds good," he said. "See you two then."

When Jim left, Holly glanced over at her boss. It took a few minutes before she summoned the courage to speak. "Barbara?"

"Yes, Holly?" her boss responded, not looking up from her work.

"Are… are you sure you're OK with this? With me being spanked by your husband?"

Barbara smiled. "Holly, have I ever been shy about expressing my displeasure?"

"Not at all," she assured her. Quite the opposite, in fact.

"Then that's your answer," Barbara responded calmly.

"And… " Holly stammered. "And you're also OK with…"

"I don't have a problem with you fucking him, either," she added. "You DO remember that I was the one that suggested both of those things, right? As long as I can watch, and as long as he has energy left to satisfy me as well."

Holly had to admit that her life had taken a very strange turn recently. "And me calling him 'Daddy'?"

Barbara finally looked at her, and shrugged. "I'll admit, that's a little weird, but go ahead. Fly your freak flag high, girl. Have fun." She raised an eyebrow. "Just don't start calling ME 'Mummy', or you WILL be in trouble." She returned to her work.

After a few minutes, Holly spoke up again. "Barbara?"

Barbara sighed. "What is it now, Holly?"

"Well, those fifteen minutes are almost up. If we're late for lunch, I don't think Daddy will –"

"Oh!" Barbara rose to her feet, her face slightly pale. "I'd forgotten! Yes, let's go. Thanks, Holly! I owe you one." She grinned. "You saved my butt – literally!"


The next day, Holly and Barbara were back in the office. In the break room, Barbara was talking to some of her employees, making sure everything was ready for the work trip she was leaving for the next morning. "If you have any questions while I'm away, Holly's been filled in on pretty much everything – and she knows how to contact me if there's something she doesn't know." She turned to Holly. "Do you know where those new hard drives are? The ones for my home office?"

"They're on their way – I think they'll be here the day after tomorrow," the assistant responded. "If you want them ready for when you're back, I can drop them off with Da – " She cleared her throat. "With Jim." She struggled to avoid blushing. "Sorry, for a second there, I almost called him 'Daniel'. Don't know why…"

Barbara hid her grin, knowing full well that this was NOT what she'd almost called him. She wondered how the others would react if Holly sat there in the break room and called the boss' husband "Daddy" to her face. Should she have grinned, glared, giggled, or pretended that it was completely normal? Either way, Holly would probably have passed out from embarrassment.


"Hello, Daddy," Holly said cheerfully when Jim opened the door. "I have the hard drives that Barbara ordered."

"Hello, Holly." He stepped aside to let her in. "By the way, if you're calling me Daddy, is there something you'd like me to call you?"

She paused. Her throat suddenly felt bone dry. "Well," she whispered timidly. "I-I've always wanted to be called 'Kitten'…" She looked nervously at him, clearly worried about his response.

He felt the urge to laugh, but managed to contain himself. Holly was convinced that her whims were incredibly dirty and wrong, and that they would shun her and be disgusted by whatever she suggested. In truth, she was the least filthy person of the three of them, and he did her best to make her feel comfortable. "That sounds fine, Kitten. Would you like me to set those up for her, or do you want to do it yourself?"

"I'll do it," she told him, heading to Barbara's home office. As she worked, her heart was beating rapidly. Every time she looked at Jim, she thought about being over his lap, and hearing him calling her "Kitten" only made it worse. She shouldn't have let it go so long without asking for another spanking. She had to find her way back over his lap soon, or she'd burst.

When she emerged from the office, her work completed, Holly found Jim sitting in the living room watching TV. "Can I talk to you, Daddy?"

"Sure, Kitten," he said, turning off the TV. "What about?"

"Well…" She paused, feeling the butterflies soaring like albatrosses in her tummy. "It's just… it's been a very long time since my spanking…"

"A little over a week," he told her. "Your birthday."

She nodded. "I… was just thinking…"

"That you want another one?" he said, grinning. She nodded shyly, and he thought about it. "Well, Barbara's going to be gone for a week, and she'll probably want to relax on the day she comes home. How does Friday next week sound? You can come here straight after work, and we – "

"But that's so long," she whimpered. "You're really, really good at it, you know that?" She bit her lip. "We don't have to wait for her, do we?" He stared at her, and she continued. "You're here, and I'm here, and we can –"

Delegating to her assistant (M/F story)

On a fine September morning, Barbara had decided to work from home, as there were some files she kept there that she'd like to have at hand if needed. However, she also wanted to have her assistant nearby, and asked Holly if she didn't mind coming over – the home office was more than large enough for the two of them. Holly readily agreed, partly out of a desire to see how her boss lived. It turned out that the house was bigger than she had imagined, and that Barbara had an eye for decoration. Her boss gave her a quick tour before they sat down to work.

Barbara's husband Jim had been working from his own home office at the other end of the house, but popped his head in around lunchtime. He hadn't been there when Holly arrived, and as he looked straight at his wife and didn't acknowledge her presence, she guessed that he hadn't noticed she was there. Holly smiled to herself as she watched him; though a decade older than herself, Jim was a handsome man who kept himself in shape.

"Should I make some lunch for us? Anything in particular you'd like?"

She shook her head. "Not right now, thanks."

"Are you going to be working through lunch again? Working so hard you'll forget to eat?" He folded his arms over his chest. "Do I need to put you over my knee and spank you?"

Holly, who had been finishing a report, suddenly dropped her pen, a small squeak escaping her lips as a blush spread across her cheeks. Was this a joke? Was he being serious? Did he spank his wife often? She had never imagined Barbara bending over someone's knee – but now that she did, she found it hard to stop. Jim heard the sound and turned towards her, and from the look on his face, she guessed he wouldn't have made that comment if he'd known she was here.

Barbara shook her head, grinning at him. "Sorry, but being spanked sounds painful, and today, I'm delegating all unpleasant tasks to my executive assistant. Holly, you're up!"

Holly squealed again. The slight blush had now turned into a raging inferno, and she couldn't look at either of them. The mental image of herself over Jim's lap, feeling his big, strong hands on her sensitive bottom, was even harder to dislodge than the one of Barbara. After a few seconds, she glanced at Jim out of the corner of her eye, as if wondering whether he was about to charge at her and throw her over his knee. He hadn't moved an inch, but he raised an eyebrow as he looked at her.