"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.
I spanked harder and faster, eliciting panicked sobs and squeals from the red-bottomed young lady over my lap. All defiance had been spanked out of her, and she was now pleading for mercy and promising to behave. "I'll practice, I swear!"
"What about lying to me?" I pressed, still spanking her soundly.
"Ow! I won't, I promise! Please, not so hard! Please," she begged.
Deciding that she finally sounded sufficiently remorseful, I ended the spanking. Rising to her feet, she jumped from foot to foot, frantically rubbing her burning bottom while tears poured down her face. It was an amusing sight. I comforted her, hugging her close and drying her tears.
When she'd calmed down, I helped her pull her jeans back up. She grimaced when the tight fabric squeezed her sore seat, but she managed to finish the lesson. When the hour was up, I reminded her to practice before next week, and she assured me that she would – and this time, I believed her.
I was halfway home before I remembered the spying sister, and I didn't want to turn around, so I decided to talk to her about it the next time I came over.
In the evening of the following day, the doorbell rang, and I was surprised to find Iris on my doorstep. "Hello, Elliott," she said, smiling surprisingly shyly at me. "May I come in?"
I stepped aside and let her enter, and she followed me into the living room. Declining my offer for a cup of coffee, she sat down on the couch and wringed her hands. She was quiet for a few minutes before she spoke up. "This is… I wanted to talk about yesterday. About… about what I saw," she said, her voice revealing her nervousness.
"You mean when you spied on your sister's spanking," I said coldly. Peeking was not an activity I approved of.
She blushed, avoiding my gaze. "Yes. Exactly." She took a deep breath. "I want to hire you," she said.
I raised an eyebrow. This seemed a strange change of subject. "You can already play the violin. I've heard you play, in fact, and you're good at it. I don't think there's anything I can teach you that isn't –"
"That's… those are not the services I want and need," she said, still wringing her hands. "It's…" She took a deep breath, still staring at the floor. "You know, I'm so envious of Jolie. My violin tutor never spanked me – never so much as a single threat. He was also a lot older than you, and not nearly as cute." She blushed even more, and glanced up at me to see my reaction.
I stared at her, speechless. Was she suggesting what I thought she was suggesting?
"Could- could you spank me?" she pleaded. "Please? I have money! I know what my parents pay you per lesson – I'll double it!"
This was surreal. A lot of girls had pleaded to escape a spanking – and now, a woman was pleading to get one.
I sat down next to her. She flinched under my gaze, but managed to look back at me.
"Are you sure you want this?" I asked her. A silly question, I guess – she wouldn't be in my house if she didn't. "Have you ever been spanked before?"
She shook her head. "My parents never spanked, as you already know, and nor did my teachers or babysitters. I've dreamed about it, of course – fantasized about some stern man who's finally fed up with my behaviour and drags me across his knee for a good, hard spanking on my bare bottom." She blushed. "And seeing you yesterday, with that stern expression on your face… the way Jolie squealed and squirmed over your lap… I kept picturing myself in her place, and it was just like in my dreams!" She gazed into my eyes. "So… can I hire you?"
I considered her proposal. "Keep your money," I told her. For a second, she looked heartbroken, but I continued. "However, it was very naughty of you to spy on your sister's discipline, and that cannot go unpunished." I folded my arms in front of my chest. "What do you think happens to young ladies who peek through doors?"
She squealed, burying her face in her hands and peering at me through her fingers. "They… they get spanked?" she asked hopefully.
"That's right. Stand up," I ordered, and she instantly obeyed. "Now take your trousers down."
She hesitated. "C-could… could you take them down for me, sir? Please?" She blushed. "I quite like the idea of being undressed…"
Deciding that there was no reason not to cater to her whim, I grabbed the belt loop of her jeans and pulled hard to drag her in front of me. As I began to unbutton and unzip her jeans, she grinned, shivering with anticipation. I pulled her jeans down to reveal a black thong.
I guided her over my lap, and she giggled nervously as I pushed her forward to raise her bottom higher. "You… you are going to take my panties down as well, sir? Aren't you?"
"I always spank on the bare, so your panties are coming down, young lady," I assured her – though whether the piece of fabric counted as 'panties' was another matter. Either way, I pulled them down and began to stroke her bare bottom, causing her to squirm in anticipation. "Are you ready for your spanking, young lady?" I scolded.
"Yes, sir," she breathed, eager for me to begin. I did not disappoint her.
I raised my hand, beginning to spank her pale posterior. She squealed as the first spanks landed on her trembling cheeks. Like always, I spanked hard and fast, peppering her backside with firm spanks.
"Oh, that stings," she gasped, wriggling over my lap as the spanks rained down on her unprotected cheeks.
"That's the idea," I responded drily.
"Oh, I wasn't complaining!" she assured me. I chuckled – this was a new experience for us both.
My hand moved from cheek to cheek, painting every inch of her ample bottom. Unlike her sister, Iris made no attempt to take her spanking stoically – she squealed, she wriggled, she yelped, and she arched her back. I thrashed her soundly; she'd asked for a real spanking, and I was going to give her one.
Suddenly, I shifted to her sit spots, spanking the sensitive skin repeatedly. "Oh! Sir, that stings! That really stings! Sir!" she protested, crossing and uncrossing her legs as she squirmed like a fish on land.
"I'm sure it does," I told her. "This is where it will hurt the most the next time you try to sit down. You'll remember this spanking for a long time, I can assure you."
"Ow! Do you – Ouch! Do you HAVE to spank there!? Eek!"
"I'm afraid I do," I responded. "You wanted a proper spanking, and you're going to get one."
I gave her a dozen more stinging smacks, before moving back up to the meatier parts of her buttocks. She breathed a sigh of relief, before continuing to yelp and wriggle.
By the time I ended her spanking, her bottom was bright red, and tears were dripping down her face, but she was still smiling. Soon, she was curled up in my lap, crying against my shirt as I comforted her.
"Are you going to behave?" I asked her.
She grinned. "That depends. Are you going to spank me if I don't?"
"We'll see," I said, kissing her forehead gently. She pouted, and surprised me by suddenly lifting her head and kissing me on the lips.
"Please, sir. Promise me that you'll spank me again?" she said, giving me her best puppy-dog eyes.
I chuckled, kissing her back. "As you wish," I promised.
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.
I spanked harder and faster, eliciting panicked sobs and squeals from the red-bottomed young lady over my lap. All defiance had been spanked out of her, and she was now pleading for mercy and promising to behave. "I'll practice, I swear!"
"What about lying to me?" I pressed, still spanking her soundly.
"Ow! I won't, I promise! Please, not so hard! Please," she begged.
Deciding that she finally sounded sufficiently remorseful, I ended the spanking. Rising to her feet, she jumped from foot to foot, frantically rubbing her burning bottom while tears poured down her face. It was an amusing sight. I comforted her, hugging her close and drying her tears.
When she'd calmed down, I helped her pull her jeans back up. She grimaced when the tight fabric squeezed her sore seat, but she managed to finish the lesson. When the hour was up, I reminded her to practice before next week, and she assured me that she would – and this time, I believed her.
I was halfway home before I remembered the spying sister, and I didn't want to turn around, so I decided to talk to her about it the next time I came over.
In the evening of the following day, the doorbell rang, and I was surprised to find Iris on my doorstep. "Hello, Elliott," she said, smiling surprisingly shyly at me. "May I come in?"
I stepped aside and let her enter, and she followed me into the living room. Declining my offer for a cup of coffee, she sat down on the couch and wringed her hands. She was quiet for a few minutes before she spoke up. "This is… I wanted to talk about yesterday. About… about what I saw," she said, her voice revealing her nervousness.
"You mean when you spied on your sister's spanking," I said coldly. Peeking was not an activity I approved of.
She blushed, avoiding my gaze. "Yes. Exactly." She took a deep breath. "I want to hire you," she said.
I raised an eyebrow. This seemed a strange change of subject. "You can already play the violin. I've heard you play, in fact, and you're good at it. I don't think there's anything I can teach you that isn't –"
"That's… those are not the services I want and need," she said, still wringing her hands. "It's…" She took a deep breath, still staring at the floor. "You know, I'm so envious of Jolie. My violin tutor never spanked me – never so much as a single threat. He was also a lot older than you, and not nearly as cute." She blushed even more, and glanced up at me to see my reaction.
I stared at her, speechless. Was she suggesting what I thought she was suggesting?
"Could- could you spank me?" she pleaded. "Please? I have money! I know what my parents pay you per lesson – I'll double it!"
This was surreal. A lot of girls had pleaded to escape a spanking – and now, a woman was pleading to get one.
I sat down next to her. She flinched under my gaze, but managed to look back at me.
"Are you sure you want this?" I asked her. A silly question, I guess – she wouldn't be in my house if she didn't. "Have you ever been spanked before?"
She shook her head. "My parents never spanked, as you already know, and nor did my teachers or babysitters. I've dreamed about it, of course – fantasized about some stern man who's finally fed up with my behaviour and drags me across his knee for a good, hard spanking on my bare bottom." She blushed. "And seeing you yesterday, with that stern expression on your face… the way Jolie squealed and squirmed over your lap… I kept picturing myself in her place, and it was just like in my dreams!" She gazed into my eyes. "So… can I hire you?"
I considered her proposal. "Keep your money," I told her. For a second, she looked heartbroken, but I continued. "However, it was very naughty of you to spy on your sister's discipline, and that cannot go unpunished." I folded my arms in front of my chest. "What do you think happens to young ladies who peek through doors?"
She squealed, burying her face in her hands and peering at me through her fingers. "They… they get spanked?" she asked hopefully.
"That's right. Stand up," I ordered, and she instantly obeyed. "Now take your trousers down."
She hesitated. "C-could… could you take them down for me, sir? Please?" She blushed. "I quite like the idea of being undressed…"
Deciding that there was no reason not to cater to her whim, I grabbed the belt loop of her jeans and pulled hard to drag her in front of me. As I began to unbutton and unzip her jeans, she grinned, shivering with anticipation. I pulled her jeans down to reveal a black thong.
I guided her over my lap, and she giggled nervously as I pushed her forward to raise her bottom higher. "You… you are going to take my panties down as well, sir? Aren't you?"
"I always spank on the bare, so your panties are coming down, young lady," I assured her – though whether the piece of fabric counted as 'panties' was another matter. Either way, I pulled them down and began to stroke her bare bottom, causing her to squirm in anticipation. "Are you ready for your spanking, young lady?" I scolded.
"Yes, sir," she breathed, eager for me to begin. I did not disappoint her.
I raised my hand, beginning to spank her pale posterior. She squealed as the first spanks landed on her trembling cheeks. Like always, I spanked hard and fast, peppering her backside with firm spanks.
"Oh, that stings," she gasped, wriggling over my lap as the spanks rained down on her unprotected cheeks.
"That's the idea," I responded drily.
"Oh, I wasn't complaining!" she assured me. I chuckled – this was a new experience for us both.
My hand moved from cheek to cheek, painting every inch of her ample bottom. Unlike her sister, Iris made no attempt to take her spanking stoically – she squealed, she wriggled, she yelped, and she arched her back. I thrashed her soundly; she'd asked for a real spanking, and I was going to give her one.
Suddenly, I shifted to her sit spots, spanking the sensitive skin repeatedly. "Oh! Sir, that stings! That really stings! Sir!" she protested, crossing and uncrossing her legs as she squirmed like a fish on land.
"I'm sure it does," I told her. "This is where it will hurt the most the next time you try to sit down. You'll remember this spanking for a long time, I can assure you."
"Ow! Do you – Ouch! Do you HAVE to spank there!? Eek!"
"I'm afraid I do," I responded. "You wanted a proper spanking, and you're going to get one."
I gave her a dozen more stinging smacks, before moving back up to the meatier parts of her buttocks. She breathed a sigh of relief, before continuing to yelp and wriggle.
By the time I ended her spanking, her bottom was bright red, and tears were dripping down her face, but she was still smiling. Soon, she was curled up in my lap, crying against my shirt as I comforted her.
"Are you going to behave?" I asked her.
She grinned. "That depends. Are you going to spank me if I don't?"
"We'll see," I said, kissing her forehead gently. She pouted, and surprised me by suddenly lifting her head and kissing me on the lips.
"Please, sir. Promise me that you'll spank me again?" she said, giving me her best puppy-dog eyes.
I chuckled, kissing her back. "As you wish," I promised.
No comments:
Post a Comment