Chrissy and Tess (F/ff, f/f story)

Chrissy hissed in pain as the slipper once again smacked down on the seat of her panties. "Five, Miss," the stout, curvy redhead said with a wince, grabbing the other end of the desk to resist the urge to protect her bottom. She knew Miss Henley would not approve of that.

"You may get up now, Christine," Miss Henley said. The middle-aged teacher was tapping the slipper against her palm. "You may also lower your skirt, if you wish."

Chrissy rose and pulled the hem of her uniform skirt down over her white cotton panties, rubbing her bottom gingerly. She then moved to stand next to Tess at the front of the empty classroom.

"Now, I don't think either of you will be sending notes in my class for a while, will you, girls?" Miss Henley said with a wink.

"No, Miss Henley," the two teenagers replied in chorus, doing their best to sound remorseful.

The teacher seemed on the verge of dismissing them, when Tess leaned towards her friend and whispered in her ear: "Wow, the old lady must be getting soft in her dotage. I barely felt that!"

Chrissy froze, trying to keep her expression neutral, while hopefully making it perfectly clear that SHE had not said a word. From the expression on their teacher's face, Chrissy guessed that Miss Henley had overheard the remark. Tess was not always as quiet as she should be.

"Would you care to repeat that, Theresa?" Miss Henley said sweetly.

"Me, Miss?" The lanky brunette almost looked innocent. "I said nothing, Miss."

Miss Henley sighed. "I'm not as old as you think I am, Theresa. But if you feel that your spanking was not hard enough, I'm sure I can satisfy you. Bend over the desk again."

Tess' eyes widened, and her hands reached back to clasp her bottom protectively. "Oh! Please, no, Miss!"

"That wasn't a question, Theresa, it was an order. Bend over the desk – you should know the position quite well by now."

With an expression of apprehension on her face, Tess inched forward. She leaned over the desk and grasped the other end as if she'd done this hundreds of times before, though in truth, it had only been a few dozen. "I'm ready, Miss," she announced, with only a slight trembling in her voice to reveal her nervousness.

"Not quite ready yet, I'm afraid," Miss Henley replied drily as she raised the girl's uniform skirt, tucking the hem into the waistline. She then moved her hands to Tess' panties. "I think since I'm so old and feeble, these will have to come down, so you can feel it properly."

Framing her friend (F/ff story)

When Haley entered the house of her friend Allison, ready to go on a trip to the mall, she expected to find her scrolling on her phone or watching TV – probably both at the same time. She would not have expected to see the high schooler bent over her big sister's lap, getting her bare bottom spanked, but that's what she found.

Haley stared. Could this really be happening? Was she dreaming, or had Lenore truly taken her little sister over her knee, raised her skirt, lowered her panties, and started spanking her? Things like this didn't happen!

Suddenly, Allison spotted her friend and let out a panicked squeal. "Haley! No! Don't look! Go away!" Tears were falling down her face, and she was squirming over her big sister's lap.

"Hello, Haley. Allison will be with you shortly," Lenore said calmly, continuing to spank her sister's reddening bottom. "She skipped school yesterday, so I'm reminding her not to do that."

"Ow! Don't look, Haley!" Allison yelped as her friend continued to stand there in the doorway and stare. "Lenore! Stop! You can't spank me when Haley's watching!"

The teenager howled as her big sister delivered a series of particularly hard spanks to her sensitive sit spots. "Can't? Do you really think you're in a position to tell me what I can and can't do, little girl?" Lenore raised an eyebrow. "Watch yourself, young lady, or I'll ask Haley to go to my bedroom and fetch my hairbrush."

"No! Ouch! I'm sorry, Lenore, I didn't mean it! Ow!" Allison kicked her legs, yelping with every hard smack on her backside.

Haley stared at the strange sight, her eyes wide and her mouth open. She'd never been spanked, and as far she knew, neither had anyone else she knew. That was some custom from the Middle Ages. But now, she learned that only had her friend Allison been spanked – she was currently being spanked! At the age of eighteen! By her big sister! This was unbelievable.

Abigail's adventures 3: Pushing her luck (F/F story)

As the first light of dawn entered the room, Abigail groaned loudly and rolled over. This was far too early to wake up! A few minutes later, her eyes shot up when a hand began to gently caress her bare bottom. Where was she, why was she naked, and whose hand was that?

She realized that she was in the room of her flatmate Nilima. The day before, Abigail had returned home after a long, hard, and wonderful spanking from her former employer Isaac, to find her flatmate spanking herself with a wooden spoon. Deciding to give her a hand, Abigail had bent the girl over the kitchen counter and spanked her bare bottom with the spoon until she cried and squealed. The two girls had then ended up naked in Nilima's bed, caressing each other's bottoms while spreading some cooling lotion. They must have fallen asleep in the end.

She glanced out of the corner of her eye and confirmed with a sigh of relief that the hand exploring her bottom belonged to Nilima. The girl stared at her target with wide eyes, and Abigail could guess why – the redness would have faded by now, but the bruises would only be more visible. Her skin was most likely very marked.

She could have scolded her flatmate for touching a sleeping girl like that, but decided not to. Nilima was naturally curious about this new world she'd stumbled into, and Abigail HAD invited her to rub lotion into her sore bottom, which carried an implicit permission to caress her backside. She also didn't protest when Nilima gave her a gentle slap – in these circumstances, the urge would be hard to resist.

When Nilima gave her some harder smacks, however, giggling as she watched the flesh bounce, Abigail decided that she had to put her foot down. She lifted her head. "What do you think you're doing?" she said sternly, grabbing the girl's wrist.

Nilima froze. "Abigail!" she squealed. "I thought you were asleep!"

"I was – until someone started smacking me." She shook her head. "Nilima, you can't possibly be dense enough to think that someone will remain asleep while being spanked?"

"I was just curious what it would be like," she mumbled. "Your butt is so cute!"

Abigail grinned. "Thank you. However, I think we need to clear up a little misunderstanding – regarding WHO is going to be doing the spanking around here, and WHO is going to have her adorable little bottom smacked." Tightening her grip around Nilima's wrist, she sat down on the side of the bed, dragging the mischievous minx across her lap.

Abigail's adventures 2: Her flatmate (F/F story)

Abigail rubbed the seat of her jeans with a blissful smile on her face as she returned her flat after another lovely visit to the stern Mister Stokes. Isaac certainly knew how to spank a young lady – and how to treat her in the bedroom afterwards!

She expected to find her flatmate Nilima reading a book, or baking cookies, or drawing, or something like that. She did not expect to find the petite Indian girl spanking herself with a wooden spoon, but that was exactly what happened.

She heard the smacks as soon as she opened the door. Thinking that the sounds were quite familiar, she tiptoed over to Nilima's bedroom to have her suspicions confirmed. Sure enough – her flatmate was bent over her own bed, one hand reaching back to spank her own bottom with a large wooden spoon. She'd removed her skirt, and her panties were around her knees. Nilima moaned as she tapped the spoon lightly against her bare bottom. Abigail stifled a giggle; she guessed that the girl had never had a REAL spanking, if those taps were enough to make her fidget.

She watched the scene for several minutes, enjoying the sight as the girl continued to spank her own bottom. Finally, Abigail decided to knock on the door and make her presence known.

"Oh! Shit!" Nilima shrieked, spinning around.

"Please, don't stop on my account," Abigail said, grinning impishly. "Go ahead!"

"Abigail!" Nilima said, staring at her flatmate. "This… this isn't what it looks like!"

"Oh? You weren't spanking yourself?" Abigail said sweetly. "Then what were you doing? Playing music? Trying to swat a fly? Is this some new form of exercise I haven't heard of?"

Nilima opened and closed her mouth, trying to think of some excuse. "It's… I wasn't…. It's not…"

"You know, I hope you were planning to wash that spoon before placing it back in the kitchen," Abigail said with a teasing smile.

"It's not from the kitchen! I keep it here," Nilima assured her. "I would never make cookies with my spanking spoon! Don't be disgusting." She pouted, then suddenly realized what she'd said. "I mean – my… my massage spoon!"

The mature student (f/F story)

It was only two months since the start of the semester, and I could already tell that I was falling behind. Back when I was a teenager, I had flunked a few classes and never finished college, and now, after two and a half decades in the workforce, I had decided to return and finish my degree.

I had hoped that the decades of work experience would mean that college was a lot easier this time around, but that proved to be optimistic. I found it hard to focus in class, and it took more and more time to complete my assignments. Some of the other girls had formed a study group, but since I was old enough to be their mother, it felt a little embarrassing to ask if I could join them.

One evening, I was returning to the dorm after a trip to the pub, when I walked past the room of one of my classmates – a petite blonde by the name of Sheila Page. She was standing in the open doorway of her room, and Josephine, a lanky redhead, was giving her a hug. Neither of them appeared to have noticed my presence. "Thank you so much for your help, Sheila!" Josephine gushed.

"Anytime, Josephine," Sheila replied. "My door is always open!" She folded her arms in front of her chest, grinning. "And I suspect you won't be late to class again?"

Josephine pouted and gingerly rubbed the seat of her jeans. "Don't worry, I'll be on time – though for a few days, I'll probably have to stand up for the entire lecture!"

"Oh, don't be so dramatic," Sheila giggled. "There's no lasting damage, just a well-deserved sore seat. You'll sit down in a few hours – though you probably won't enjoy it much."

I stared wide-eyed at the two girls. What the hell was going on?

Josephine left, still rubbing her bottom, and Sheila finally spotted me. "Oh! You're Jacqueline, aren't you? We're classmates, right? Good evening!"

"What was that about?" I asked, staring at her.

"What do you mean?" Sheila replied, a confused expression on her face.

"Why did Josephine just leave your dorm room while rubbing her backside?"

"Oh, that. I've just spanked her," Sheila responded matter-of-factly.

I stared incredulously at her. "Are you being serious right now?"

"Entirely serious," she replied calmly. "Some of the girls are away from home for the very first time, and the total freedom and lack of consequences can have a detrimental effect on their mental health. Back home, misbehaviour earned them a trip over the parental lap, but here, there are no immediate repercussions. Some girls find that destabilizing, and they have a hard time focusing on their studies."

"So you SPANK them?" I couldn't believe what I was hearing!

"It's a service I provide to those that need or want it. People have told me I'm mature for my age, and they find it easy to rely on me."

That part, I could believe. When I first met Sheila, she seemed so grown-up that I assumed she was one of those twenty-somethings with a baby face who looked much younger than they were. It was a surprise to learn that she actually was the eighteen-year-old girl she looked like.

"So, you just drag them over your lap and whack away?"

She frowned. "I always ask them to bend over voluntarily – it shows that they know they deserve the punishment. Then I smack them long and hard with my hand. For serious offences, I reinforce the lesson with a good spanking with the back of my hairbrush. Then, I send them to the corner to reflect on their behaviour, before they get a hug and forgiveness." She shrugged. "It's simple, and it works."

The thought of these girls voluntarily seeking out a spanking from Sheila struck me as daft, but I decided not to tell her that.

"Going out for an evening walk?" she asked, looking at my jacket. "It's a lovely night, I believe."

"No, I'm returning to my room. I was at the pub," I explained.

She looked puzzled. "I thought you had an assignment that was due in the morning."

"I do," I confirmed.

"Oh, you finished it before you left?"

"No, not yet," I said quietly, suddenly feeling a little nervous for some reason I couldn't explain.

"I see," she responded, raising an eyebrow. She didn't SAY that she disapproved, but her expression certainly did.

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.

Disciplining her flatmate (F/F story)

When I first had the idea for last week's story about a woman that spanks her dorm-mate for being messy, I couldn't decide whether the spankee should be into it or not. In the end, I decided to write both. This is the second one – different in many ways, but based on the same premise. I hope you enjoy it.

 

"When are you finally going to start vacuuming?" I said sternly as I glared down at my flatmate Luanna, who was sitting on the sofa and staring at her phone. We'd been living together for about a month, but it was beginning to feel like it had lasted a decade.

"I told you, I'll get to it, Joelle. Don't nag me. You're sounding like my mother," Luanna said, rolling her eyes in a way that would have been annoying for a teenager – and it didn't get any less infuriating when coming from a 25-year-old woman.

Luanna had only recently moved out of her parental home, where her mother had done almost all of the housework. As such, I now found myself with a flatmate who didn't clean up after herself, had never done her own laundry, and considered boiling an egg to be an impossible culinary challenge. She also seemed to struggle with the concept that the hot water tank in our flat was smaller than the one in her mother's large house. Every time I found myself forced to take a cold shower in the morning, I could feel my palm itch, longing to give Luanna the one thing her mother had never been considerate enough to give her: a long, hard spanking on the bare bottom.

And if there was one word that described Luanna, besides "brat", it would probably be "spankable." She was a tall brunette with a firm, well-shaped backside that she loved to show off in tight jeans, and there was something about her pouty expression that made me long to see her standing in the corner with those jeans pooled around her feet and her red bottom on display. She'd look even cuter like that, I decided. 

It would be one thing if she was eager to learn some of the things her mother had failed to impart, finally ready to grow up, but that was sadly not the case. Whenever I offered to teach her how to do something, or help her with a task, she quickly tried to sneak away and leave it to me.

Deciding I had better things to do with my day than stand there and watch my flatmate not doing housework, I headed out. I was picking up a parcel from the post office, and we needed groceries. I'd previously tried to make Luanna do the shopping, but either she'd postpone it until the shops were closed, or she'd somehow convince herself that buying a latte at Starbucks counted as getting milk.

The line at the post office was even worse than I had expected, and when I finally returned to the flat, more than two hours had passed. Before entering, I wondered whether Luanna had moved a finger while I was away, and soon discovered that she had – she hadn't done any vacuuming, but she'd made herself a sandwich. I could tell, because there was an assortment of spreads standing on the kitchen counter, and a dirty plate on the coffee table with a half-eaten sandwich lying next to it. I sighed – never mind cleaning up after herself, the girl couldn't even place the sandwich back on the plate after taking a bite.

Luanna was still staring at her phone, and I could no longer contain my wrath. "Luanna!" I snapped, taking the phone from her hands. "Either you clean up this mess RIGHT NOW, or you'll find yourself over my knee for a smacked bottom. Is that clear?"

Dorm room secrets (F/F story)

When I first found out that I would be sharing a dorm room with Lily, and thus sleeping only inches away from the most attractive and most popular girl I knew, my heart started beating like a jackhammer. I considered myself the luckiest girl in the college, and I was quite looking forward to it. By now, almost two months later, that initial delight had definitely worn off.

Don't get me wrong; Lily was still a stunner – a tall, curvy blonde with a cute button nose, and it was always captivating to watch her bend over to retrieve something from the bottom drawer of her desk, and see those tight pyjamas stretch nicely over that beautiful bubble butt. I could feel my palm itch just looking at it. However, she turned out to be a real pain in the rear to live with. She was never knowingly selfish, but she was shortsighted and seemed unable to predict how her actions would affect others.

Today, I had gone straight to the library after my college classes were done, and I returned to the dorm room in the evening to find that a party had happened while I was away. Beer bottles were strewn all over the room, crisps had been trampled into the carpet, and there were stains that hadn't been cleaned up, while Lily was lying on her bed reading.

"Hi, Debra," she called out in her usual cheerful tone. "What's up?"

"Had a party, I see?" I said curtly. She nodded, and I continued: "And when were you planning to clean this up?"

"I'll do it tomorrow," she replied casually. "I'm a bit tired now."

"Do you think it's acceptable to leave the room in this state until then?" I said, placing my hands on my hips in what my little sister teasingly called my 'mum pose'.

She frowned. "Is something wrong, Debra? You seem upset."

"I'll tell you what's wrong," I said, starting to count on my fingers. "One, you hold a party here without asking me. It's my room too, and I have a right to know when there's going to be other people here. Who knows, maybe I'd accidentally left my underwear drawer open or something. Two, it's a bit hurtful that I didn't get an invite – I don't think I'd have spent the evening at the library if I knew there was a party."

A guilty expression crossed her face. She seemed about to say something, but didn't.

"Three. I come home after a long day of studying to find my room in a mess. If you're going to have a party, the least you can do is clean up after yourself – not leave it until the next day. Every part of the room is messy, and someone even accidentally spilled a beer bottle in my bed." I frowned. "At least, I HOPE that's what that small stain is…" Quickly sniffing it, I sighed in relief. "Thank God, it's just beer."

She rose up on her elbows, putting her book away. "Oh. I'm sorry. I didn't think –"

"I'm sure you didn't. You never do." I sighed. Too tired and frustrated to consider what I was saying, I blurted out "I should take you over my knee and spank you."

The alchemist and the apprentice (F/F story)

"Great news, Tabitha!" Heidelore exclaimed when her assistant finally arrived at the workshop. As usual, the petite alchemist was wearing a leather apron, a robe that might have been clean once, and a manic grin, and her hair looked like she was waiting for a bird to nest in it. "I have a commission. Have you heard of Crescentia Falkenrath?"

 

The willowy apprentice thought for a second. "The senator's wife?"

 

"That's right," Heidelore confirmed. "It seems Senator Falkenrath doesn't like her wife's spending sprees, and is using a belt on the woman's bare bottom to make her displeasure known. Crescentia, not willing to change her habits, has hired me to make a salve or lotion that will make it possible for her to sit comfortably."

 

"And how much is she paying you for this?"

 

"Seventy denarii," the alchemist replied.

 

Tabitha whistled. "Wow. I wonder how the Senator will react when she learns about that expense. Sounds like it could be painful for Crescentia."

 

"Hm?" Heidelore frowned. "I don't see… Anyway, I've made a few test batches that I think will work, but we obviously need to test them first, so it's good that you've arrived."

 

Tabitha felt a chill running down her spine, and her backside tingled unpleasantly. She had a feeling that she wouldn't like where this was going.

 

Heidelore picked up a leather belt lying on her workbench. "I bought this on my way to the workshop. You raise your robe and bend over the table, I strap your bottom, and we test them out on you."

 

Tabitha tried to swallow, her mouth suddenly bone dry. She had guessed correctly – she didn't like the direction this conversation had taken at all. One hand reached back to cusp her bottom, shivering as she thought about how that belt would feel against her sensitive skin.

 

In the years she'd been apprenticed to the famous alchemist, Tabitha had learned a lot, and there were certainly benefits, but she was also expected to act as guinea pig for Heidelore's various experiments. She'd been stung by insects, had itching leaves rubbed on her skin, and drunk various foul mixtures with unpleasant effects. And it would have been one thing if the cures always worked – but if they did, there wouldn't be any reason to test them, would there? Many of them did nothing, and some even made the problem worse.

 

And now, she was expected to bare her bottom for a strapping from her boss. She HAD to find a way out of this. And from the way her mistress looked at her, she had to find it fast.

 

"You know," the apprentice said slowly, trying to buy herself time to think, "I believe I see a flaw in this…"

The Nerd and the Bully (f/f, M/f story)

As I was sitting at my desk grading papers one Friday afternoon, someone knocked on the open door of my office, and a timid voice said "Mister Rackham?"

I looked up from my work to see Nicole, one of my favourite students, standing in the doorway looking at me. Nicole was a lanky girl of 18 with long, brown, curly hair, and large, green eyes. She was biting a fingernail nervously, and looked very uncomfortable. There was something about her manner that suggested she might be in trouble, which surprised me; Nicole was a hard-working student who always had good grades and never broke the rules. "Hello, Nicole. What can I do for you?"

"Can I talk to you about something?"

"Of course!"

She closed the door behind her. I offered her a chair, but she declined it with a grimace. "I don't want to sit down right now." Before I could ask what she meant, she sighed. "Beatrice has been bullying me."

Beatrice was one of the goths – a surly, dark-clad, dark-haired girl who treated homework like suggestions, though she usually kept quiet and didn't disturb the rest of the class. She'd never been the friendliest girl, but she mostly wanted to be left alone, and I'd never heard of her being a bully. I couldn't imagine that Nicole was lying, though.

My confusion must have been apparent on my face, for Nicole glanced outside the door to make sure we were alone, and then suddenly turned her back to me, flipped up her skirt, and lowered her panties. "Look at this, sir!"

Once I got over the surprise of having one of my favourite students suddenly mooning me, I could see that her bottom was bright red, covered in handprints. Someone had clearly given her a good spanking. "And that is Beatrice's handiwork?" I asked.

Nicole nodded, before slipping her panties back on and lowering her skirt. "She came to my room and ordered me to write her assignment for her. When I refused, she dragged me over her knee, pulled my panties down, and –" she sniffled. "Spanked me!"

I quickly offered her a paper tissue, which she gratefully accepted and began to dab her eyes. I also wanted to offer her a comforting hug, but it was not considered acceptable for teachers to hug students.

She told me the rest of her story, and I promised to deal with her bully. As Nicole left my office, there was a relieved smile on her face, though she was also rubbing the seat of her skirt with one hand.

Deciding to handle the matter immediately, I stopped one of the students walking past, asking if she could tell Beatrice to report to my office immediately. Ten minutes later, the short, stocky goth girl knocked on my door. "You wanted to see me?" Unlike most of the students, Beatrice never called me 'sir' or used my last name. I offered her the chair, and she sat down.

"I've heard reports that you've been bullying others. Someone walked past and heard you give one of your fellow students a spanking." This wasn't true, of course, but I wanted to give her the impression that someone other than Nicole had reported her, to reduce the chance of her retaliating against her victim.

Beatrice only glared at me, as if she hoped to scowl me into submission. This was obviously futile.

"Is this true?" I asked. Though I couldn't imagine that Nicole was lying – and I'd already seen her marks – I wanted to give Beatrice a chance to defend herself. I couldn't imagine what she'd say, but I was willing to listen.

Beatrice only shrugged.

"You think it's funny to beat your classmates?"

"It was only a spanking," she muttered.

"Well, we'll see whether you think it's 'only' a spanking once I'm done. Stand up." With a sulk on her face, Beatrice obeyed. My hands went to the front of her dark denim cutoff shorts, and I unbuttoned and unzipped them, before lowering them to her knees, revealing a black thong. I pulled the girl over my lap, and her thong soon joined her shorts around her knees. My hand smacked firmly down on her pale cheeks, and the girl grunted as I began to spank her.

My hand moved swiftly from cheek to cheek, and I spanked hard and fast. The girl bit her lip, doing her best to convince me that it didn't hurt at all, but I wasn't fooled. I knew my hand would last a lot longer than her bottom, and as I continued to thrash her, I was soon proven correct.

My hard hand slammed down on her soft skin. She began to squirm over my lap, and she could no longer hold back the tears. Her bottom was as red as Nicole's had been, but I kept going – I wanted to make sure this never happened again.

"I'm sorry, sir! I'll be good!" she finally pleaded. I smiled; it was the first time I could remember Beatrice calling me 'sir'. I gave her a few more smacks, just to make sure she had learned her lesson, then ended her punishment.

I helped the girl to her feet, where she gingerly rubbed her bare bottom. I offered her a tissue, and once again wanted to roll my eyes at regulations that allowed me to bare a girl's bottom and spank her, but not to give her a hug and comfort her.

Beatrice soon pulled her panties and shorts back up, leaving my office with a promise to behave from now on. I smiled, confident that the matter was solved.


A week later, Nicole was back in my office, telling me that Beatrice had spanked her again.

The school cleaner (f/f, ff/F story)

It was a lovely Friday afternoon, the end of the third week of my new job as a cleaning lady at the local girls' school. It was the end of the school day, so I wasn't surprised to walk past an ajar door where lights were still on – it could be a teacher working late, or a class that stayed on longer than usual, or even some pupils in detention. I did not expect, however, to hear a voice say, rather strictly, "Can you give me a single reason why you should not get a good, hard spanking, young lady?" Even more surprising, it sounded like the voice belonged to a teenager. Unable to quell my curiosity, I tiptoed over to the door and peeked inside.

I spotted two uniformed schoolgirls: A tall one with long, blonde hair, wearing the head girl badge, had her hands on her hips and was glaring down at the miscreant sitting in front of her – a petite redhead, wringing her hands nervously while staring at the floor, unable to think of anything to say. The head girl continued to lecture her, and I soon picked up that the redhead's name was Michelle, that she had been caught smoking, and that they were in the same class; the latter fact was mildly surprising, as the head girl looked older, not only because of her height, but also because Michelle was wearing pigtails, which made her look younger than her eighteen years. The fact that only one of them was about to go over the knee for a sound spanking was perhaps another sign of maturity. The head girl had kindly decided to punish the girl at the end of the day, so she wouldn't have to risk being overheard by her classmates – and wouldn't have to sit down in class on a sore bottom.

I couldn't believe what I was hearing! I knew that the school rules permitted the use of corporal punishment, regardless of the age of the pupil, and that head girls were also authorized to dole out spankings when needed. But I had assumed it was some old, no-longer-practiced rule that had just never been repealed – I didn't imagine that it was still happening. And to think that these girls could not only spank younger pupils, but their classmates, was more than I could fathom.

At this point, the best thing to do would probably be to close the door and continue my work. I was far too curious, however. I had never been spanked growing up, and had never seen anyone receive a spanking. There was something fascinating about the whole affair, and if I walked away now, I didn't think I would be able to forgive myself. In the battle between fascination and propriety, fascination easily won out, so I remained at the door and continued to watch and listen.

"I am disappointed in you, Michelle. You're usually so well-behaved! Those girls are a bad influence on you, and you shouldn't hang out with them."

Michelle looked close to tears already. "Please, Haley, do you have to spank me? Isn't there anything else we can do?"

The head girl shrugged. "I can send you to the headmistress for a caning, if you'd prefer that."

The girl turned pale. "No! Please! I'll take the spanking."

Haley nodded. "I suspected as much. Very well, then. Fetch the chair."

Michelle rose on shaking legs, walking over to a straight-backed, armless wooden chair resting against the wall. She picked it up and carried it to the middle of the floor, where the head girl would have plenty of space to swing her arm, while the miscreant could kick her legs with no risk of damaging the furniture. The chair was placed facing me, so I would have an excellent view of the proceedings, which I thought was very considerate of them.

Haley sat down and crooked her finger, then pointed to the floor. When Michelle moved to stand in front of her, Haley raised the girl's skirt. "Hold this," she said, handing Michelle the hem of her own skirt. The girl obeyed, and Haley placed her fingers in the waistband of Michelle's white cotton knickers. With cold efficiency, as if she'd done this a hundred times before, she pulled the girl's panties down to her knees, leaving her standing there on display. Michelle blushed, but she didn't protest – she probably realized it wouldn't help her.

Haley patted her lap, and the girl bent over her knee, her pale cheeks quivering slightly as she waited for the first smack to land. Haley, however, seemingly intended to drag things out. She started to gently rub the girl's bottom, watching the goosebumps forming on the pale skin. "You have been a very naughty girl, Michelle. I hope you are ready to face the consequences."

"Yes, Miss Haley," Michelle replied meekly.

The head girl continued to stroke her softly, before suddenly lifting her hand and delivering a firm smack that rang out in the quiet room. I jumped at the sound, and from the yelp that escaped Michelle's lips, it was just as painful as it sounded. Haley continued to spank her, rapidly delivering two dozen equally-firm spanks.

Learning from Sheila (F/F story)

The first time I met Sheila Page, my little sister Lucy's new friend, she had my sister draped over her lap as she spanked her bare bottom.

I had come to Lucy's flat to deliver a jacket that my sister wanted to borrow for an upcoming party – one of the last big parties before they left high school. I knocked on the door and entered without waiting for a reply, as was our usual style. Hearing a curious smacking sound, I entered the living room, where Sheila was sitting on the sofa. Lucy was lying down, with her skirt raised and her panties lowered. Her naked bottom was resting on Sheila's lap, and Sheila was spanking her soundly with a surprisingly calm expression on her face. I gaped – what the hell was going on?

Sheila must have heard me enter, for she looked up and gave me a big smile. "Oh. You must be Kate, right? Lucy's older sister? How lovely to finally meet you. Please sit down – we are almost finished."

I was still staring at her in shock. I was stuck between leaving immediately to give Lucy some privacy in this humiliating situation, wrestling Sheila to the ground to save my poor baby sister, or just waiting for the whole thing to be over. I looked at Lucy, who had also turned to face me. Her face was wet with tears, and there was an embarrassed look on her face at having her punishment witnessed, but nothing about her expression suggested that she wanted me to rush to her aid. In the end, I decided to do as Sheila suggested, and I sat down in the nearest comfy chair.

For two or three minutes, I watched Sheila's hand rise and fall as she struck my sister's red bottom. Lucy squirmed and yelped, but she didn't protest or try to struggle free. It was surreal – why was this happening? Why had an eighteen-year-old girl taken another across her knee and bared her bottom for a spanking?

With a final flurry of smacks, Sheila ended the punishment. She helped Lucy stand up and hugged her, soothingly rubbing her back as the poor girl dried her tears. "Usually, you'd be spending a few minutes in the corner right now, but since your sister is here, I'll let you off just this once."

Lucy smiled gratefully, returning the hug. "Thanks, Sheila. You're always so kind."

I raised an eyebrow. If someone had spanked my bare bottom until it was red and swollen, I was fairly sure I wouldn't be describing them as 'kind'. Or maybe I would – I would presumably be doing anything I could think of to placate the violent madwoman – but Lucy sounded as if she meant it.

We all sat down and chatted, and the girls were talking about which colleges they were hoping to get into, what they were planning to do with the summer, and which films they were going to see, all while ignoring the fact that one of them was squirming in her seat, trying in vain to find a position that wasn't quite as uncomfortable as all the others.

After a while, Sheila told us she had to go if she wanted to reach the store before it closed. When we were finally alone, I turned towards my sister. "OK, want to explain what the hell that was all about?" She raised an eyebrow, wondering what I meant, so I clarified. "You were over your friend's knee getting your little tushy spanked."

Mira's Maid (F/ff story)

All of the girls in my class wanted to be friends with Mira. She was popular, charismatic, a good student, and beautiful – not to mention that her parents were filthy rich. An 18-year-old couldn't dream of a better life than that.

Well, I tell a lie. Most of the girls wanted to BE Mira. But if you couldn't do that, being her friend was also good.

So when the bell rang at the end of the school day, and Mira asked me if I wanted to hang out that afternoon, I jumped at the opportunity.

We spent an hour or two at the mall, trying on skirts and sipping some eye-wateringly expensive lattes. For the sake of my pride, I'd made a token effort to pay for my coffee myself, but she insisted on treating me – which was fortunate, because I had very little money and really didn't want to waste it like this. I didn't even know they sold such expensive drinks in my little town, but I guess when your parents are loaded, you get used to treats like that.

Our shopping trip done, we headed back to her home to relax. As we entered the house, we were greeted by a very angry-looking maid. Yes, they have a maid. One who walks around all day in that silly black costume from old movies, and who cleans so they don't have to. Did I mention that her parents were rolling in it?

The maid, who was a tall, slim woman with short, red hair, folded her arms in front of her chest and glared at Mira. "And where have you been, young lady?"

I was slightly taken aback; I'd never had a maid before, but I didn't think they talked to their employers like that. Maybe it was because she was the daughter of the house and not the owner. Mira sighed, rolling her eyes. "I was at the mall, Abigail. Chill."

"Your parents gave you strict instructions to come straight home from school today. They wanted to talk to you before they left for their evening out, but they couldn't wait any longer." She raised an eyebrow in a way that reminded me of the expression my mother wore whenever I was in trouble. "They had also told you to clean your room yesterday, if I recall correctly."

Mira huffed. "I'm hanging out with Jenny right now. I'll do it later."

Abigail the Maid nodded. "Yes, you will. Your parents instructed me to make sure you cleaned your room today. They also asked me to deal with your disobedience so far." She sat down on a straight-backed armless wooden chair that stood nearby, patting her lap. "Come here, Mira."

I stared at the maid. She didn't mean what I thought she meant, right? I just had a dirty mind – there was no way in hell that my eighteen-year-old classmate was about to be spanked by her maid. I glanced over at Mira, about to share my amusing mistake with her, and I was shocked to see her fidget and nervously chew her finger, suddenly transformed into a naughty little girl. She'd come to the same conclusion I had, and from her reaction, it wasn't the first time it had happened.

"Come here, Mira," Abigail repeated, her voice several degrees colder as she patted her lap again. I guess Mira's words had accomplished something – the maid HAD chilled.

The maid and the miss (F/f story)

The lanky, dark-haired teenager Luna was heading downstairs to the kitchen, looking for a snack, when she heard her mother's maid complaining to her visiting friend. The door was slightly ajar, and she saw that the two women were sitting at the kitchen table, each with a cup of coffee in her hand.

"And have you seen the state of her room?" Christine was saying. The tall, fair-haired maid shook her head. "If any of my sisters had made a mess like that, I would put them over my knee and warm their bottoms."

Isabel raised an eyebrow as she looked at her friend. "Luna's eighteen, isn't she?"

Christine shrugged. "Yes, but so what? She's not too old for a spanking, if that's what you think. My sister Anna is 21 now, and she's still subject to our parents' discipline – and mine, whenever I'm back there and my parents are too busy to deal with her." Isabel gave her a questioning glance, but Christine waved it away. "I'm ten years older than her, so she's expected to obey me."

"I'm pretty sure Luna's mother would object to such a treatment," Isabel pointed out.

"Obviously," Christine conceded. "The girl has never been spanked in her life. That much is clear." She sniffed disapprovingly. "Pity, really. I really think she would benefit from it."
 
Luna stood outside the room, her heart beating so loudly she almost couldn't hear what the two women were saying. For a brief moment, Luna was worried that they could hear it – and wondered what they would do if they caught her listening at the door. She shivered at the thought.

As quietly as she could, she retreated to her room, sitting down on her bed to process what she'd just heard. So, her mother's maid actually wanted to spank her!

The maid was correct that Luna had never been spanked – and when Christine said that this was a pity, Luna actually agreed completely. She'd been fascinated by spanking for as long as she could remember, and had wondered what it would be like to be taken across someone's knee. There was something exciting about the painful, humiliating act that had dominated her dreams for some time.

And now, she knew that there was a person living in the same house as her that wanted to make that fantasy a reality. She was certain that the big, muscular, determined maid could give a proper spanking if she wanted. Luna began to ponder what she should do about this situation.

She glanced around. She had to admit, her room was quite messy, wasn't it?

Past misdeeds, part 3: An old outfit (F/F story)

Third and final part to this story. First part can be found here.

Two weeks ago, I'd been approached in a bar by one of my old classmates, a woman I had not seen for ten years. During our conversation, she admitted that she felt very guilty about once smoking in the classroom, since I'd been given the blame – and the skirt-up, panties-down spanking that came with it. By her request, I had accompanied her back to her apartment, taken her over my knee, and spanked her bare bottom soundly. As I was comforting her afterward, I managed to convince her that her sin was so great that she'd only feel TRULY forgiven if I gave her two more spankings. So, one week later, I returned to Katie's apartment, took her over my knee, and spanked her with her own hairbrush. She looked absolutely adorable squirming and squealing over my knee, especially since I'd made her wear a schoolgirl uniform.

Now, I was walking to her apartment to deliver the third and final spanking. There was something sad about the occasion – Katie was a very cute woman, and I had greatly enjoyed taking her over my knee and spanking her adorable little tushy. And now, it would be the last time.

I pushed those thoughts to the back of my mind, forcing myself to smile. That just meant I had to enjoy it while it lasted, didn't it? Savour every second of her spanking; every firm smack I delivered to those cute, quivering cheeks.

I rang the bell, and as she opened the door, my jaw dropped. Katie was wearing a skimpy top and miniskirt, which was an outfit I would never have expected to see her in. It looked more like something I would have worn – in fact, looking at it, I realized it was the exact outfit I'd worn on the day Miss Taylor spanked me in front of the class. She'd even dyed her hair, though for some reason, it was pink. In school, my hair had been purple, and believe me, I would gladly have chosen death over pink. On her, it looked quite good, though.

I grinned at her. "That's a new look for you."

She blushed. "I thought that since I'm being..." she glanced behind me, making sure no one was lurking outside her door. "Punished for what happened to you back then, I thought it would only be fitting that I wore the same outfit." She bit her lip, glancing nervously up at me. "Do you like it? I mean, I could go change if it's..."

"You look lovely," I told her, with a smile that was uncharacteristically warm for me. A relieved grin spread across her face, and she turned to lead me inside. When her back was turned, I took hold of the hem of her skirt, lifting it to reveal a dark thong.

"Vanessa!" she squealed, spinning around and pushing her skirt down with both hands. Her face was redder than her bottom had ever been, and she looked outside to confirm that we were still alone. "Please don't do that when the door is still open! I don't want my neighbours to see me like this."

"I wanted to check that you were wearing the full attire – it wouldn't do to wear your usual cartoon panties with that outfit, would it?" I explained. I could probably have tried to sound sorry, but I didn’t. As I closed the door, I pondered her words. "Does that mean you're fine with me flipping your skirt up now, as long as the door is closed?"

"Of course!" she said, as if this was the most obvious thing in the world. "You're here to give me a well-deserved punishment, aren't you? Do whatever you want – I'm entirely in your hands!" I grinned at that. The woman was showing a far greater trust in me than I deserved. She glanced down, one finger nervously twirling her hair. "I have one request, though, if you're willing to grant it."

"What is it?" I asked.

"Um. Could you just use your hand, this time? That hairbrush really hurt." She reached one hand back to gingerly rub the seat of her skirt, grimacing at the memory.

I nodded. "If you're a good girl and do what I tell you, with no delays or backtalk, I will just use my hand. However, if you disobey me..." I meaningfully rested my hand on my belt. Her eyes followed my movements, and a frown appeared on her face as she tried to grasp my meaning. I realized what was happening – last week, I learned that she'd never heard of a hairbrush being used for spanking, so she probably wasn't familiar with a lot of other implements, either. "I'll take off my belt and whip you with it," I explained.

Her eyes grew wide, and she took a step back, both hands protectively clasping her bottom. "I can assure you, that won't be necessary, ma'am," she insisted earnestly. "I promise you I'll do whatever you say!"

I grinned. "Good to hear."

Past misdeeds, part 2: A new uniform (F/F story)

I whistled happily as I walked down the street – not exactly fitting my tattooed punk aesthetic, but I was ecstatic, so I didn’t care. Last Saturday, I had been approached in a bar by my old classmate Katie, who admitted that she'd been the one smoking in the classroom back in our school days – something I'd been blamed for, which had earned me a spanking in front of the class, with my skirt up and my panties down. She'd apologized, and despite now being in our late twenties, we'd somehow ended up deciding that I should take the little blonde over my knee and spank her bare bottom for what she did to me back then. I had thoroughly enjoyed watching her squirm and squeal over my lap, and had convinced her that to truly pay for her sins, she should get two more spankings from me over the following two weeks. It would only be fair, after all.

And now, I was on my way to her apartment to deliver the second one.

I was obviously looking forward to smacking her cute little rear end, but I was also eager to see how she was dressed. On Wednesday, I had phoned her up and asked her to get a school uniform.

"But we didn't wear uniforms back in school," she said dubiously. "I think you wore a miniskirt and a thong when you were spanked."

"That's right, but it would be fitting, wouldn't it?" I said calmly. Katie was always easily convinced by anyone speaking confidently. "You are being punished for something you did as a schoolgirl, so you should dress as one as well." Of course, my real reason was that I thought the petite woman would look cute as a button in it – particularly while being spanked.

I approached her apartment and rang the doorbell. The door opened slightly, and I saw her peeking through the crack. "Oh, it's you, Vanessa," she said with a sigh of relief as she opened the door. "There was a charity collector guy here half an hour ago, and I opened the door thinking it was you. I almost died with shame – I didn't want anyone else to see me like this."

She was wearing a white schoolgirl's blouse with a blue tie, a matching blue skirt, and long, white socks. She had tied her long, blonde hair in blue ribbons. As I had predicted, she was absolutely adorable, and I could feel my palm beginning to itch just looking at her.

Past misdeeds, part 1: An old acquaintance (F/F story)

"Vanessa? It IS you, isn't? it?” I looked up to see that the little blonde in the white top and pink shorts who had been looking at me for the last few minutes, had approached my table in the bar. As a six-foot woman with purple hair and a lot of tattoos, I'm used to people staring, but I now realized that this woman knew me.

And now that she had come closer, and I'd heard her voice, I recognized her as well. "Katie? I haven't seen you since high school! Wow, it's been ten years already, hasn't it?"

I gave her some polite phrases in my most monotonous voice, trying to make it clear that I wasn't really interested in a conversation with her. The two of us had never been friends, despite being classmates since primary school; she'd been a popular, fashion-obsessed straight-A student, while I was a punk troublemaker, and not excessively straight. I didn't particularly care how, what, or who she was doing, and if given a choice, I would prefer to be alone with my beer.

Katie, however, had never been good at picking up cues, so she sat down at my table. She managed to chat about the old days without much input from me, though she seemed a bit distracted, as if there was something on her mind. After a few minutes, a blush spread across her cheeks, and she went quiet as if gathering her thoughts, which seemingly took some effort. After a few seconds of silence – not nearly long enough in my view – she took a deep breath and spoke. "Do you remember the cigarette pack?"

I didn't have to ask her what she was referring to. Back in our school days, someone had been smoking in the classroom during lunch one day, dropping the cigarette butts out the window. A terrible lack of subtlety, I’m sure you’ll agree. We never knew who it was, but since I was the class troublemaker, the teacher blamed me. Despite protesting my innocence, Miss Taylor dragged me to the front of the class and pulled me over her knee. She then raised my miniskirt, lowered my thong, and spanked my bare bottom in front of the class.

Anna and Rosie 4: Kissing up (f/F story)

When the doorbell rang, a few things surprised me about the sight that greeted me when I opened the door. The first was that Anna, my neighbour's daughter, was there. There was nothing inherently unusual about this, as she now showed up once a week to give me a good spanking, for our mutual enjoyment. But she always came on Fridays, and this was a Tuesday. The second was that her usual cruel, cocky grin was replaced with a sad pout, and it was clear she had been crying. She was also wearing a skirt instead of her tight jeans.

"Mum spanked me today," she said as she walked into the living room. She didn't wait to be invited in; she rarely asked for my permission about anything. "She found out I skipped school yesterday. I'm not happy about it, so I decided to come over here and take it out on YOUR butt."

I nodded. This wasn't the first time she'd spanked me for something unrelated that she was unhappy about in her life; it relieved her stress, and I liked it when she was strict with me, so I didn't see a problem with the arrangement. The only downside was that I'd likely struggle to sit down at work tomorrow, but that was a problem for later.

Anna and Rosie 3: The list (f/F story)

It was a lovely, warm Friday afternoon. Several of my co-workers were finding their nicest dresses, preparing to go out on the town. I was sitting in my living room in a t-shirt and sweatpants, waiting for a teenager to come over and spank my bare bottom like I was a misbehaving child.

I shook my head. Why did it feel like I was the lucky one?

The doorbell rung, and I opened it to find Ana giving me the strictest glare she could muster. She was wearing a worn t-shirt and holey jeans, and carrying a small shopping bag. She immediately entered the living room, and I followed her.

A few weeks before, I had spied through the window as the eighteen-year-old was spanked by her mother. When I was caught, her mother had mistaken me for a teenager instead of the 30-year-old businesswoman next door, and had spanked my bare bottom while Anna watched and laughed. Anna had eventually found out who I was, and had decided to spank my bottom instead of telling her mother. Now, going over her lap had become something of a regular occurrence – to our mutual enjoyment.

"Have you prepared the list?" she asked me with her most dismissive glance.

I hurriedly retrieved the sheet of paper and brought it before her. The week before, Anna had decided that she wasn't going to just pull me over her knee and spank me – she was going to punish me properly for my real misdeeds. For that purpose, she'd given me homework; over the week, I would write down everything I did wrong, big or small. I would give her the list, and she would decide on an appropriate punishment. Somehow, I got the feeling that whatever I wrote down, the end result would be a bare-bottomed spanking over her knee. And I was fine with that.

Anna and Rosie 2: Found out (f/F story)

Three days had passed since I spied on the woman next door spanking her daughter, before being dragged inside and spanked by the angry mother who had mistaken me for a bratty teenager instead of the 30-year-old businesswoman I actually was. At the time, I was convinced that I wouldn't sit for a week, but when I woke up the next morning, my bottom felt fine, and there were only the slightest traces of my adventure.

It was now a lovely Friday afternoon, and had just come home from the office, still dressed in my pencil skirt and professional top. The doorbell rang, and I opened it to found eighteen-year-old Anna, the petite, blond-haired girl whose spanking I had witnessed - and who had laughed wickedly as she watched my own bottom being blistered. She was wearing jeans and a top, and a look of boredom, as if she had more interesting places to be right now.

"Hi there. Mum sent me over with some mail that was accidentally delivered in our mailbox." She handed me the letters, then smiled. "You know, I guess in some way, I should thank you for spying on me. If you hadn't been there, she would have given me a whole lot more – maybe she would even have used her hairbrush." She grinned wickedly. "Besides, it was really funny to watch you squirm over her lap. And those cute yelps you made!"

"I'm glad you found my pain amusing," I said sarcastically, glaring at her as a blush spread across my cheeks.

She looked at me, then suddenly furrowed her brow, staring at me as if seeing me for the first time. "Hey, why are you dressed like that? Are you going to a costume party or something?"

 

I froze, realizing what was about to happen.

 

"And that makeup - it makes you look like a much older…" Her eyes widened. "Holy hell. There's no mother and daughter here, is there? YOU'RE Rosie Adams, the woman who just bought this house."