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.
The teenagers waved Abby over to their table, and she went to them, leaving Imogen with her thoughts. Her mind kept replaying the conversation they'd just had, and she wondered what it would be like to be spanked by Abby. Would it hurt? Would she cry? Would she squirm and kick her legs?
She had no idea how long she sat there, but she woke from her stupor to find Abby grinning down at her. "I'm taking a little break, so I've put the 'Closed' sign up and locked the front door." She leaned in closer. "Would you like to see the back room now?"
Imogen turned pale. She glanced over at the other table, but it seemed the teenagers had left while she was daydreaming. She looked back at the waitress, but could think of nothing to say.
"Cat got your tongue?" The girl smirked. "That's OK. Why don't you give me your hand and come with me?"
As the waitress led her by her hand into the back, Imogen's heart pounded frantically in her chest. Was she dreaming? Was this some silly joke? Were they actually going to do this? The girl pulled her over to a wooden chair, before sitting down. She smiled gently up at Imogen as she began to unbutton the businesswoman's fashionable trousers.
Imogen blushed, burying her face in her hands as Abby unbuttoned and unzipped her trousers, slowly lowering them to reveal a pair of simple green cotton knickers. She then placed her fingers in the waistband of Imogen's panties, peeling them down to join the trousers around her ankles. Imogen almost protested, but for some reason, she stopped herself.
Standing before the waitress, effectively naked from the waist down, Imogen blushed so much that she was struggling to breathe. Abby grinned, patting her lap. "Over my knee, young lady," she commanded, and Imogen obeyed.
Stretched out over the girl's lap, with her head down and her bottom raised, Imogen began to wonder why she was doing this. Why had she submitted to this humiliating treatment from a young woman she'd just met? And why was she so wet?
Abby raised her hand, delivering a dozen crisp smacks to her bottom. Imogen yelped, but more from surprise than from pain – it didn't sting much. The waitress continued to spank her, her hand moving from cheek to cheek.
"How does that feel?" she asked, starting to spank a little bit harder.
"It stings," Imogen gasped.
The girl chuckled. "It's supposed to, young lady. It's a spanking."
The night was quiet, with the sounds of hand slapping down on bare cheeks only accompanied by Imogen's ragged breathing. While each smack didn't hurt much, Abby spanked fast, and the heat and sting accumulated.
"You've been a very naughty girl, staying up late when you have an important day tomorrow," Abby scolded. Imogen blushed – was she talking about Imogen's school days, or her current business trip? She didn't want to ask, in case the girl decided she needed to be punished for both. "You should be in bed, not hanging out in diners." She delivered a series of swats to the lower parts of her rear end that had Imogen howling.
As her bottom burned, Imogen began to squirm around on her lap, and she could feel tears at the edges of her eyes. However, despite the pain, she didn't want it to stop – she'd never experienced anything like this!
"Will you be a good girl?" Abby demanded, wrapping her arm around Imogen's waist to hold her in place.
"Ow! Yes, I promise," Imogen gasped, kicking her legs.
"Good to hear," Abby responded, smirking. "But to make sure, I think we'll keep going a few minutes more…"
By the time Imogen was allowed to rise, her bottom burned like she'd sat in a campfire, and the tears were rolling down her cheeks, but she also had a smile on her face. Reaching her hands back to rub the sting away, she looked down at the waitress. "Thank you," she whispered.
Abby smiled back, but she also smacked her hands away. "Tut, tut – no rubbing yet, young lady! I told you, you are going to stand in the corner with your hands on your head! Do as I say, or I'll fetch my hairbrush and start over."
Imogen pouted, but obeyed – she had no desire to feel Abby's hairbrush on her sensitive seat. She suspected that it was a hard, wooden, old-fashioned one. As she faced the wall, tears trickling down her face as her backside ached, Imogen decided that she really needed to get Abby's phone number. This could not be their only meeting.
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.
The teenagers waved Abby over to their table, and she went to them, leaving Imogen with her thoughts. Her mind kept replaying the conversation they'd just had, and she wondered what it would be like to be spanked by Abby. Would it hurt? Would she cry? Would she squirm and kick her legs?
She had no idea how long she sat there, but she woke from her stupor to find Abby grinning down at her. "I'm taking a little break, so I've put the 'Closed' sign up and locked the front door." She leaned in closer. "Would you like to see the back room now?"
Imogen turned pale. She glanced over at the other table, but it seemed the teenagers had left while she was daydreaming. She looked back at the waitress, but could think of nothing to say.
"Cat got your tongue?" The girl smirked. "That's OK. Why don't you give me your hand and come with me?"
As the waitress led her by her hand into the back, Imogen's heart pounded frantically in her chest. Was she dreaming? Was this some silly joke? Were they actually going to do this? The girl pulled her over to a wooden chair, before sitting down. She smiled gently up at Imogen as she began to unbutton the businesswoman's fashionable trousers.
Imogen blushed, burying her face in her hands as Abby unbuttoned and unzipped her trousers, slowly lowering them to reveal a pair of simple green cotton knickers. She then placed her fingers in the waistband of Imogen's panties, peeling them down to join the trousers around her ankles. Imogen almost protested, but for some reason, she stopped herself.
Standing before the waitress, effectively naked from the waist down, Imogen blushed so much that she was struggling to breathe. Abby grinned, patting her lap. "Over my knee, young lady," she commanded, and Imogen obeyed.
Stretched out over the girl's lap, with her head down and her bottom raised, Imogen began to wonder why she was doing this. Why had she submitted to this humiliating treatment from a young woman she'd just met? And why was she so wet?
Abby raised her hand, delivering a dozen crisp smacks to her bottom. Imogen yelped, but more from surprise than from pain – it didn't sting much. The waitress continued to spank her, her hand moving from cheek to cheek.
"How does that feel?" she asked, starting to spank a little bit harder.
"It stings," Imogen gasped.
The girl chuckled. "It's supposed to, young lady. It's a spanking."
The night was quiet, with the sounds of hand slapping down on bare cheeks only accompanied by Imogen's ragged breathing. While each smack didn't hurt much, Abby spanked fast, and the heat and sting accumulated.
"You've been a very naughty girl, staying up late when you have an important day tomorrow," Abby scolded. Imogen blushed – was she talking about Imogen's school days, or her current business trip? She didn't want to ask, in case the girl decided she needed to be punished for both. "You should be in bed, not hanging out in diners." She delivered a series of swats to the lower parts of her rear end that had Imogen howling.
As her bottom burned, Imogen began to squirm around on her lap, and she could feel tears at the edges of her eyes. However, despite the pain, she didn't want it to stop – she'd never experienced anything like this!
"Will you be a good girl?" Abby demanded, wrapping her arm around Imogen's waist to hold her in place.
"Ow! Yes, I promise," Imogen gasped, kicking her legs.
"Good to hear," Abby responded, smirking. "But to make sure, I think we'll keep going a few minutes more…"
By the time Imogen was allowed to rise, her bottom burned like she'd sat in a campfire, and the tears were rolling down her cheeks, but she also had a smile on her face. Reaching her hands back to rub the sting away, she looked down at the waitress. "Thank you," she whispered.
Abby smiled back, but she also smacked her hands away. "Tut, tut – no rubbing yet, young lady! I told you, you are going to stand in the corner with your hands on your head! Do as I say, or I'll fetch my hairbrush and start over."
Imogen pouted, but obeyed – she had no desire to feel Abby's hairbrush on her sensitive seat. She suspected that it was a hard, wooden, old-fashioned one. As she faced the wall, tears trickling down her face as her backside ached, Imogen decided that she really needed to get Abby's phone number. This could not be their only meeting.
I love this story. The dynamic of the younger top spanking the older woman bottom - that extra embarrassment factor - is, well, resonant. My favorite line:
ReplyDelete**Here she was, a successful businesswoman, being threatened with a spanking by a girl ten years younger than her.**
Squirm!