Spying on the maid (F/M story)

"Hello, Mister Blakeley," Reinhild greeted her employer as she entered his home. "I'll just go get changed, and I'll start cleaning."

Cornelius Blakeley gave her his usual bland smile. "Hello, Reinhild. I look forward to seeing you in your uniform."

"Yeah, I'll bet you do," she muttered to herself as she walked down the hall.

Reinhild had been working as a maid for Mister Blakeley for almost a year, and the job had its upsides and downsides. On the one hand, she only had to be there a few hours three days a week, the work was not too hard, and he paid extremely well. On the other, Mister Blakeley demanded that she wear an old-fashioned maid costume while she cleaned – he claimed he liked tradition, but she was fairly certain that he was just a pervert, particularly since he liked to sit there and watch her clean.

He also wanted her to wear high-heeled shoes. She'd even brought some comfortable slippers from home, telling him that her feet would feel much better at the end of the day, but he wouldn't budge. The house was also surprisingly untidy, though she didn't know if he was deliberately making a mess so that he could watch her clean it, or if he was just a slob by nature.

Her uniform was waiting for her in the back room where she kept her cleaning supplies. She changed and went straight to work.

In the living room, Mister Blakeley was sitting in his comfiest chair, a novel in his hand. Despite her employer seemingly being engrossed in his book, she could feel his eyes on her as she cleaned, particularly when she bent over to pick up something on the floor. "Think of the money," she muttered to herself. The thought made her work a lot more bearable.

At the end of the day, she returned to the back room to change into her own clothes, sighing to herself. She would go home, soak in the tub, rub her aching feet, and spend tomorrow shopping. Standing there in her bra and panties, she hung the uniform up, and reached for her own clothes, when she suddenly frowned, glancing at the door – surely she'd closed that when she entered, hadn't she?

She walked over to shut it, and gasped. Her employer was standing on the other side of the door, peeking at her through the crack.

When Reinhild was younger, she'd once noticed the boy next door spying on her through a gap in the curtains as she was changing. Obviously outraged, she'd slammed open the window, dragged him inside by the ear, thrown him over her lap, and spanked his bare bottom until it was bright red and he was howling for mercy. He never tried that stunt again – at least not to her.

It's likely that this event was on her mind as she once again found her privacy violated – and maybe it was her memories taking control. Before either of them had time to think, she reached forward and grabbed Mister Blakeley's ear, making him squeal.

"Spying on me changing!?" she snapped at him. "What kind of pervert are you?" There was a stool in the room that she would sit on while changing shoes, and she dragged him over to it. Finally letting go of his ear, she sat down and immediately unbuckled his belt. His expensive silk trousers were unbuttoned, unzipped, and lowered to his knees. Feebly, he tried to stop her, but she slapped his hands away. In a flash, he found himself bent over her knee, staring at the carpet with his bottom in the air.

Babysitter believes in spanking (F/M story)

"I just don't see why you won't allow me to spank Corey if it's needed," the babysitter said.

"We've talked about this, Jenny," Malcolm Fowler replied. It was clear the subject made him uncomfortable. "Besides, has Corey ever done anything to deserve it when you're babysitting?"

"No, not yet – you know Corey's always well-behaved. But it's always good to have the option if it's needed. I feel like you don't trust me."

"Not at all," he assured her. "You're very trustworthy - far more responsible than I was at eighteen. But I just don't think children should be spanked."

As Mr. Fowler left, Jenny reflected on her position. The eighteen-year-old student was the preferred babysitter for most of the parents on the street, and apart from Mr. Fowler, all of them had given her the right to spank her charges when necessary. She'd asked him why not, but he'd seemed uncomfortable with the idea and explained that he didn't believe in spanking children. She decided to let the matter go - he had made it clear that he trusted her, and Corey didn't really need it anyway.

As Jenny headed toward the living room to hear if Corey wanted to watch a movie, she noticed a light from Mr. Fowler's room. Her employer had forgotten to turn off his computer.

Neighbour's loan (F/M story)

Living on his own had turned out to be a lot harder than Lance had expected. He had rented a small apartment not too far from the college he was going to, and close to the bar he had managed to get work in. Ideally placed, but priced accordingly too. He was standing outside by the mailbox, looking at the bill he had just opened. How was he going to pay this?

"Hey, neighbour. How's it going?"

He glanced up. It was Rose Henderson, his closest neighbour. "Hi, Miss Henderson."

"I told you to call me Rose," she scolded gently. Rose was in her late thirties, with short black hair, and always with a smile on her face. "Now, why the long face?"

Lance nodded to the bill he was holding. Rose held out her hand, and Lance passed it to her.

"So I'm guessing you're having trouble financially? Well, if you're having trouble paying, I can lend you some."

He smiled. Rose always looked out for others. "That would be great!"

"Just one small thing," she said, suddenly growing serious. "You know why you're out of money? It's because of all those parties you throw. Alcohol's not free, you know. I've seen it before, first time away from the nest, and you think that money will last forever. What's happened is that your parents aren't here to keep you on the straight and narrow, and you lack self-discipline." She pulled her wallet out of her purse and handed him a few bills. "You can borrow this – no, on second thought, it's a gift. But," she said as he grabbed the money, "The next time you're in trouble and need to borrow money, I will be taking you over my knee and taking it out of your bottom."

With a parting waggle of her finger at him, she left. Lance smiled to himself; Rose had such a strange sense of humour.

Spanked by a friend (F/M story)

It was an early Thursday evening, and Jake was sitting on the couch in his new apartment, having a few beers with his closest friends. They didn't usually drink in the middle of the week, but Jake had broken up with his girlfriend a few days before, and they felt he needed a bit of sympathy. He was telling them all about how she'd called him an immature man-child, and how she wished she'd never met him.

Harry was telling him how lucky he was that he got rid of her, and how he'd take him out to the local bars, chasing skirt for a few nights. Kirsten was telling him that he was a decent man, and that he would bounce back soon enough.

Fred was talking about the drinking habits of giraffes, and Jake wasn't entirely sure whether he was trying to use it as an inspirational allegory, or if he'd just outright forgotten what they were discussing, but he was quite entertaining to listen to, at least. Sarah wasn't saying much, just giving him encouraging smiles to show she supported him. It was rare of her to be this quiet; she was never afraid to speak her mind.

As the night grew long, they started to leave. Almost everyone had work in the morning, leaving Jake and Sarah alone with the rest of the beer. He looked at her. "You've said very little all evening," he pointed out. She nodded. "What's your take on it, then?"

"I think she was right about one thing," she said calmly. "I think you are immature."

At the mansion (F/M)

I once a short story called Lady Emily, about a noblewoman who catches and punishes a trespasser. This was the follow-up. The first story was short, poorly written, and not worth uploading, but I considered this good enough to pass the threshold. This is also my last non-uploaded F/M story - until I run out of old stories to upload, there will only be M/F stories (and one or two F/F stories).

Brian stepped up to the door and rang the bell, more nervous than he ever could remember being. Earlier that week, he had taken a shortcut over the property of Lady Emily, the young, but authoritative owner of the mansion and most of the surrounding area. She had caught him, and decided with to deal with this trespassing young man by baring his bottom and giving him a good whipping with her riding crop. It had been all too clear that she had enjoyed this punishment.

The thing was, so had he. And since this had been obvious, the Lady had invited him over the following Friday for another dose of discipline. Friday, at seven, had arrived, and he was standing outside the mansion wondering how long he would have to wait.

The door opened, and a tall, redheaded maid looked him up and down.

Handling his accounts (F/M story)

"Right," Summer said and held out her hand. "Give them here."

Brian handed his younger sister the papers he had been carrying, and wondered how in the world he had ended up in this situation.

The answer was obvious, of course. Brian had always been bad at handling money. Try as he might, he just wasn't the financially responsible kind. About eight or nine months ago, he had phoned his little sister, who was studying to be an accountant.

"Your problem isn't that you haven't got enough coming in," she told him. "Nor that you have any particular expensive habits or anything like that. No, the problem is that you keep making small, but expensive impulsive purchases. You can't go past something you want without buying it, especially when you've been drinking. You lack discipline. But I can help you with that."

"Oh really? How?" he'd asked her, desperate for a way out of his troubles.

"Spankings."

"Excuse me?" Was this another of her silly jokes?

"Spankings. You come to me every two weeks, and I take a look at your expenses this month. If I find something there I don't like, I take you over my knee and teach you a lesson with my brush."

He had told her as calmly as he could that there was no way in hell he would submit to something like that from his YOUNGER SISTER, and that if she couldn't be serious, he'd hang up.

"Hang up if you want," she had told him. "But that won't fix your financial troubles. You'll be back."

A month later, he showed up at her house. He had thought seriously about her offer, and decided he had to reluctantly accept. The petite redhead gave her the strictest glare she was able to muster, then told him that had wasted a whole month. Since he showed so little regard for both his time and hers, she had decided he would receive a spanking right away. On that first visit, he had been shocked at how quickly his tiny sister had reduced him to a crying mess, but she was a lot scarier with that brush in her hand.

"Well, everything seems to be in order. You're acting a lot more like a responsible adult. And I think you know why," she said, smiling smugly at him. One of his hands reached back to rub his bottom.

"Hang on, what's this?" He had a sinking feeling in his stomach as her brow furrowed. "What's this? ANOTHER trip to the pub. That makes three this month. What did I tell you about that, Brian?"

"You told me that 'Two nights out a month is more than enough, if they're that expensive,'" he said, quoting one of her rules.

"Good. And what did I say I would do if you broke that rule?"

"You'd 'light my butt up like a Christmas tree,'" he said, blushing like mad as he quoted her exact words.

"And I will." She shook her head as she made a mark on the paper with her red pen. "I really had hoped we would make it through a meeting without me having to blister your bottom."

"Then don't!" He pleaded. "Please, it's just one little mark, can't we forget about it, this once?"

For a few seconds, she just sat there, glaring at him. "I'm going to pretend I didn't hear you say we should ignore the rules. You've already got ONE spanking coming your way, but I can easily make it two."

"Sorry," he told her.

"Apology accepted." She picked up the brush from her purse. "Now, hands on your head and get over here."

She pulled down his trousers and boxers, letting him stand there for a few seconds before she patted her lap. He lowered himself as fast as he could; anything to end the humiliation of standing there on display.

He sighed to himself. One mark! One bloody mark! Why couldn't he have stayed home that third night?

Summer had a special system of rules, and one of those rules concerned the length of his punishments. If he earned any marks, any at all, she would start off with a five-minute spanking with the brush. Then, when that was over, she would give him ten hard strokes for every mark he had. On the other hand, if he had no marks at all, he would get off without a spanking. Unfortunately, that hadn't happened yet.

"Are you ready, Brian?" she asked, rubbing his bottom with her brush.

"Yes, ma'am."

"Good," she said with a grin as she lifted the brush.

The strokes weren't very hard, especially compared with the ones at the end of his punishment, but they still stung quite a bit, and they came fast. It wasn't long before the tears appeared.

"Stop struggling, Brian," she said as she circled his waist with her arm. "You're only making it worse for yourself."

"But it hurts!" he cried out.

"That's the point."

His bottom turned pink, then red, as he kicked and cried, pleading for mercy. When his five minutes were up, she stopped.

"Now, one mark, that's ten strokes. Are you going to be a good boy and lie still now?"

"I'll try," he told her.

"That's all anyone asks, Brian, that you try. Problem is, up until now, you haven't."

Ten hard strokes rang out in the silent room, and Brian cried out at every one, but he managed to not move for any of them.


Later, Brian left his sister's apartment, rubbing the sting from his bottom as he made his way home. And just like last time, and the time before that, he promised himself that next time, NEXT TIME, he would earn no marks at all.

Punishing their brothers (F/m story)

Sarah sighed as she put the phone down. Her idiot brother had decided to shoplift again, earning himself a quick trip to the police station. Luckily, it didn't look like it would go to court – Robert might be a teenager, but had a way of doing puppy eyes reminiscent of a far younger child, that made people instantly want to forgive him. She'd seen it work on their parents far too often.

Still, shoplifting? AGAIN? She shook her head, wishing yet again that someone had taught that kid to behave when he was younger.

The phone rang again, and Sarah picked it up, fearing that she'd hear about yet another of her brother's silly stunts. It was something of a pleasant surprise to hear the voice of Kelly on the other end.

Kelly was a few years younger than Sarah, but far taller, and she had this air of authority that caused people to think she was older. They'd met because Kelly's brother Jake was in the same class as Robert, and a friendship had blossomed.

"I heard Robert got himself arrested again," Kelly said.

Sarah groaned. "How did you know?" She paused. "Wait... Jake was there too, huh?"

"He's still at the police station," Kelly replied. "I know the officer that phoned me, and got a few details out of her – which is how I know Robert was there." Sarah heard a sigh on the other end, knowing that Kelly was as fed up as she was. "I've decided to go through with it. I've warned him many times, and he's never believed me, but this time, he's gone too far. I'm going to do it, and it's about time too."

"Do what?" Sarah said, puzzled. "You're talking in riddles, Kelly."

Sarah giggled as Kelly explained her puzzling words, but the more she heard, the better she liked the idea. She loved it, in fact.

Jake and Robert slammed the door as they entered Robert's house. The officer had driven them here, stating that their sisters had requested it, since Kelly was too busy right now. Caught! They were actually CAUGHT. They looked at each other, agreeing to get a better lookout next time.

"Ah, you're here," Sarah said, giving them a glance as if it pained her to look at them. "Follow me so we can get this started."

"Get what started?" Robert asked, suspicious.

"Don't ask questions, just follow me," Sarah said, heading up the stairs. Robert considered telling her to go to hell, but decided to follow; he was curious to see what was going on.

Sarah led them into her room. She sat down in the only chair in the room, and she'd stacked some boxes on the bed, so the boys were forced to stand.

"Now, I've had a little chat with Kelly, and we're sick of the way the two of you have been acting. Skipping school? Shoplifting?" She shook her head. "You're acting like children, not the teenagers you're supposed to be." She folded her hands in front of her chest, glaring at them. "We've decided to deal with you, and we agreed that I would start."

"Deal with us?" Robert asked, getting more and more suspicious. The back of his neck was tingling, telling him to get out of there, but he saw no reason to be scared of his sister.

"Yes," Sarah said, reaching forward and grabbing his hand, "Deal with you." And with a jerk, she dragged him forward, pulling him over her knee. Quick hands had his trousers and underpants down to his knees before he could react.

In the library (F/M story)

"What's that?" Keith said, nodding towards a strange object hanging on the wall of the library. It was leather, about a foot or so long, and quite thick, and seemed really out of place on a library wall.

"That?" said Millie. She was the librarian that Keith had been trying to chat up for the last week or so, dropping by every day. She wasn't completely unresponsive, but he hadn't gotten very far. She was a short woman, but with long, dark hair and a cleavage he could lose himself in. "That's a strap. Haven't you seen one before?"

"A strap? In what sense?" he asked.

She giggled. "In the sense that it's an object that you whip naughty girls' and boys' bottoms with to remove the naughtiness. Does that explain it?"

"It does, yes," he replied. "Kind of a weird decoration for a library, don't you think?"

"It's not decoration, Keith," she answered. "We take it down from time to time, when we have to." She giggled again. "If people continue to make noise even when we warn them to be quiet." She wagged her finger at him. "So don't be too noisy, ok? You won't like the consequences."

Keith blushed.

About ten minutes later, Millie was standing at her desk, watching the library, when she spotted Keith carrying a stack of books towards a table. The stack seemed unstable, wavering back and forth, and she was just about to tell him to be careful when it fell, as books came crashing down on the floor.

She rushed forward, helping him to gather up the books. "Sorry," he said, blushing again. He looked quite cute when he did so, she noted.

"Just be more careful in the future, ok? We don't want the books damaged."

She returned to her desk as he sat down with the books, making notes on a sheet of paper as he went through them.

Twenty minutes after that, he'd carried the books back where he found them, and he was carrying another stack. Millie noted with alarm that one was just as unstable as the last, and, sure enough, it toppled. Again, she rushed forward to help him out.

"Be careful!" she snapped. "If you do this again, you won't like the consequences." These books were valuable, and crashing to the floor wasn't very good for them. She decided to return to her desk, but hadn't taken more than a few steps before the sound of books hitting the floor rang out again. She turned to see Keith gathering up the books. Something clicked in her mind as she recalled their previous conversation. "If you wanted the strap," she said as she helped him gather up the books, "You should have just told me, rather than ruining our property."

He blushed, embarrassed at having been found out. "Would you have done it, though?"

She looked at him. He was tall, quite handsome, and was wearing jeans that showed off a very cute backside. "Oh, with pleasure." She placed the books on the table. "I think you had better follow me into the back room," she said, and he did so. On the way, she stopped to pick up the strap.

"I'll be in the back room," she told Sally, one of the other librarians. "Back in a few."

Sally looked at Keith, who was standing nearby, biting his lip in nervousness.

"Have fun," she said. "He's cute." She grinned. "Ten pounds say he screams."

"You're on," Millie replied.

Millie led Keith to a concrete-covered room at the back of the library, opening a door that seemed to lead to an old bomb shelter.

"Sound-proof," she said at his quizzical look. "We don't want you to disturb someone more than you already have, do we?" She tapped on the walls. "No one will hear anything through these walls."

She didn't feel it was necessary to mention that they had a microphone in the room, to tape the sounds of punishments, to play back on dull days.

She led him over to a desk, with manacles attached for hands and feet. "To stop people getting up while they're punished," she explained. "Saves time." She slapped her hands together. "Usually, we just have people drop their trousers and boxers, but since this is somewhat unusual, I think we'll go one better." She smiled at him. "Everything off."

He blinked. "Everything?"

"Every last stitch."

He started to undress, folding his clothes and placing them on a nearby chair. Shirt, Trousers, socks... he hesitated slightly before lowering his boxers, embarrassed at being naked in front of an attractive young woman.

"Having fun?" She said, nodding towards his erection. He blushed. "Now, bend over the desk."

"Is this really necessary?" he asked as she locked him in, making sure he was unable to get loose.

"Necessary?" She responded. "Nope. But it sure is fun."

She picked up the strap, tapping it against his bottom. "This is going to hurt," she said, lifting the strap and whipping it down on his bottom. And it did.

Keith grimaced in pain as the leather bit into his flesh. What had he gotten himself into? Another stroke landed, and he arched his back, biting his lap. Again, the strap whistled through the air, an explosion of pain erupting across his poor cheeks.

Millie grinned as the lifted the strap again and again, making sure she covered the entirety of Keith's cute butt. She always enjoyed these little sessions, but rarely as much as this. "It's been a few minutes, and he hasn't cried out yet," she told herself. "Sally owes me ten pounds."

Keith was crying, wishing for all the world that he could reach back and rub his stinging cheeks, but that was of course impossible. When Millie finally put the strap down, he breathed a sigh of relief.

She took a step forward, running her fingers over his stinging posterior, rubbing some of the pain again. "Was it what you expected?" she asked.

"Much more painful," he moaned.

"Then I have bad news for you," she told him. "See, if you had ASKED me for this punishment, I would have ended it here." She pinched his bottom to make sure he was paying attention. "But since you tried to manipulate me – poorly, I might add, but still – and damaged our property while doing so, we have a long, long way to go yet." She picked up the strap again, patting it against her palm. "And I don't think you're going to enjoy it very much." She would, though.

Keith pleaded for mercy, but as the strap landed on his bottom again, all thoughts but the burning pain were banished from his mind. He cried in pain as the leather dug into his skin, blistering and bruising his poor skin.

He was blubbering incoherently by the time Millie put the strap down again. She released him from his manacles, and helped him to his feet.

"It feels painful, I know," she said. "But if you stay here, facing this corner, I'll be back soon with some ointment for your poor backside." She wagged her finger. "You may rub, but if you look any place BUT this corner, you're going back over the desk. Don't test me."

She exited the room, going to her desk to pick up the jar of cream. Sally was sitting there, eager for details. "You owe me ten pounds," Millie said as she sat down to describe the strapping to her. Keith could wait a few minutes.

Internet Café (F/M story)

Tricia leaned back in her chair, smiling at her own brilliance. One of the computers had gotten a virus infection – at an internet café, viruses were an occupational hazard – but she was pretty sure she'd cleaned it up. She rebooted it, trying to recreate the problem, but it sure looked like the problem was solved. With her duties done, she decided to pull up the log and see what sites the users had been visiting.

She didn't work at the café every day, or even every week – she was a trouble-shooter, not a glorified waitress – but she always enjoyed her occasional visits. You'd be surprised at the sites people would visit when they thought no one was watching. Heck, she'd even learned of a few new sites in her time at the café.

As she pulled up the log, she gave out a small gasp. That's certainly something new, she told herself. She was pretty sure she hadn't seen those sites in the log before. One of the visitors had been visiting spanking sites. She read through the list of sites. Strict women. Banjo's BBS. A tumblr bearing the name "KILTGO."

"Knees I'd like to go over," she told herself. She'd seen the site before. She'd seen most of them before. Her life-long interest in spanking had been her little secret. And someone in the café shared that secret.

She looked through the list. The whole list seemed to consist of women spanking men, or strict women. Possibly a young man with a kink. She wondered who it was. Was he young and cute? Did he have a girlfriend? If not, then this poor man might go entirely un-spanked for his naughtiness. She grinned to herself. She couldn't let that happen to the poor boy.

She decided to spend some more time at the café, watching the log as customers came and went. If he returned, she'd find him. And after a few days of careful vigil, she'd spotted him. A young man, early twenties or thereabouts. He'd sit down on the computer, surf energetically for a few minutes, and leave. Not surprising, she realized. He was most likely gathering masturbatory material, and the staff would probably complain if he dropped his trousers and cracked one off in the café.

He was certainly cute, she concluded. She'd asked the other girls here about him, and told them she might be interested in him. Which was true enough, in a way. His name was Jake, and as far as they knew, he was single. She smiled. A young, cute, naughty boy right under her nose. Her palm started to itch just thinking about it.

That Saturday, she made her move. He arrived at the café, sitting down on the computer he always used – with his back to the wall, of course, so no one could look over his shoulder. She was watching the log. She rose to her feet the second he opened one of his websites. He jerked as she sat down next to him, rapidly closing the web page, glancing at her as if he was making sure she hadn't seen the page.

Cute. He probably thought the site was gone, now. Taking the mouse from his hand, she opened the browser again, opening the log to display the last web page. The spanking site returned, showing a cute girl with glasses, grinning as she slapped the bare-bottomed lad over her knee. Tricia looked at her prey. "Care to explain yourself?"

The boy grew pale, looking as if he was about to pass out. He probably thought she'd report her to the police, or call the other girls working here to laugh at his choice of websites. Nothing could be further from the truth, but she enjoyed watching him squirm.

She straightened her back, looking as authoritative as she could. "You've been a very naughty boy today, looking at these websites," she told him. "Very naughty indeed."

The look of pure fear on his face changed, to one equal parts embarrassed, scared and intrigued. Perhaps he'd dreamt of this, a young woman telling him off for his naughtiness before leading him of for a good spanking. Well, if that was the case, his prayers were about to be answered. "I'm Tricia, the resident computer expert. I think you should come with me."

She led him out back, to the apartment that the owner of the café used when she was in town. She wasn't, and wouldn't be for another week, which was one of the reasons the place was perfect for her needs. The other reason was that Michelle, the owner, had previously been in a band. And she still had the sound-proof room she practised in.

The boy was still following her, blushing bright red and feebly trying to stammer out an apology. She led him into the practise room, taking a seat in the only chair in the room. After all, sitting would not be a priority to her guest.

"Do you have anything to say for yourself?" she asked the young man as he stood before her, fidgeting. He shook his head.

"You were very naughty, visiting web pages like that. In public, no less. I'm afraid I have no other choice but to take you over my knee and give your little bottom a good spanking." She did her best to sound disappointed, but it wasn't easy. Putting this cute young man over her lap was as much an answer to HER prayers as it was to his.

With a crooked finger, she beckoned him over. She unbuttoned and unzipped his jeans, pulling them down to his knees. The tent in his boxers told him much he enjoyed this, and she was glad her own enjoyment was less visible. She lowered the boxers as well, causing his erection to bounce forward. For the moment, she ignored it.

She patted her lap. "Over my knee, you naughty, naughty boy."

She grinned as his pale backside quivered under her palm, and she slowly rubbed his bottom, pinching his cheeks a little. It was even cuter in the nude. She lifted her palm. "This is going to hurt, I'm afraid," she said. And from his reaction as her hand landed, she knew she was right.

Her hand moved from cheek to cheek, trying to paint a bit of colour into his posterior. She moved slowly, but firmly, as she wanted to extend their enjoyment. He was kicking his legs, but other than that, he seemed to be trying to be brave. Foolish, she thought. She was going to reduce him to tears, no matter how brave he tried to be.

He gasped as the sting in his rear end began to grow, and he was squirming around on her lap, his erection rubbing into her thigh. She frowned. If he squirted on her, he was really going to pay.

As his rear grew from white to pink to red, his kicking grew stronger and his crying grew louder, but at no point did he tell her to stop. Not that she'd have listened to him if he did, of course.

When she was satisfied with the colour of his bottom, she helped him to his feet and led him into the corner, telling him to remain there with his hands at his side if he knew what was good for him. She sat down in the chair again, enjoying the sight as she thought about what she would do next. Perhaps she'd help him take his mind off the ache. After all, she had a few hours to waste with him, and Michelle had a VERY comfortable bed...

Spring cleaning (F/M story)

"Time to get up now," Mary said as she shook her boyfriend awake.

"Uh. What time is it?" John said drowsily, as if the answer wasn't really that important to him.

"It's nine in the morning, and you promised to help me with the spring cleaning today."

"I'll get up later," he said as he rolled over on his stomach, away from her.

She lifted the cover, delivering a sharp smack to his backside. "You'll get up now if you know what's good for you."

"Ow!" he said, rubbing at the stinging mark. "OK, chill."

An hour later, he was standing behind the shed, third smoke of the day in his hand. He had never quite had the energy that Mary had. She could work for hours, with a smile on her face and a song in her heart. He... couldn't.

He was just about to put the cigarette to his lips again, when a sharp pain jolted through him. Mary had grabbed him by the earlobe, and she wasn't about to let go.

"Any particular reason you're hiding behind the shed when you should be helping me?" She picked up the pack of cigarettes, which had fallen to the ground. Her eyes narrowed. "I see." She looked up at her boyfriend, sending him the strictest look she could muster. "Go to the front of the garden. I'll deal with you there."

Reluctantly, he obeyed-

"Now," she said, sitting down in the sturdy garden chair she employed in cases like this. "Drop those shorts and get over my knee."

Rude awakening (F/M story)

As Becky entered the room and flicked on the light, she had to shake her head as she watched her brother put his arm over his face to continue sleeping. "Get up, sleepyhead," she said, not remotely as nicely as she had been almost an hour ago, when she had first tried to wake him. "It's almost ten, and it's a beautiful day today." She loved it when Andrew visited her, and she knew that he liked to get out of their parents' house and spend a week or two with her, but she hated that he spent most of the day sleeping.

He rolled over on his stomach, not even bothering to answer her. His duvet was in a pile on the floor, so the only thing keeping him warm was a pair of old, grey boxers. She planted a quick smack on the seat of his underwear, causing him to jerk his head up. When she was sure she had his attention, she continued. "Why don't you hop into the shower, and I'll see if I can have breakfast ready when you're done."

"Fine, I'll get up," he said, not sounding very pleased. Just before he headed into the bathroom, he looked at her. "You don't have to be a bitch about it, though." And then, with a final slam of the door, he headed off into the shower.

Becky glared at the door, as if she hoped her gaze would go through the door and make the brat on the other side feel really bad about himself. That was the final straw. She hadn't wanted to spank Andrew – he didn't visit all that often, and she didn't want to spend that time punishing him – but there was a line she wouldn't let him cross, and he crossed it as if he wanted a golden medal for the effort. She couldn't let him get away with it.

She opened a drawer, pulling out an old bath-brush that she'd painted the words "Attitude Adjuster" on. The letters were almost worn off, and she'd soon wear them away even more. She patted the brush against her palm. It was solid wood, and probably stung quite a bit when applied to the right place.

She considered marching into the bathroom straight away to deal with him – he never locked the door when he showered – but two things told her to wait. First of all, she was still too upset with his behaviour, and she never spanked in anger. That would be unsafe. Second, she wasn't about to pull him out of the shower once she'd finally gotten him in.

No matter. He would be finished soon. And she would be waiting.

He'd turned off the water, and had just started drying himself off when she entered. He glared at her, about to tell her to get out, but the words caught in his throat at the look on her face. The brush she held in her hand told the rest of the story.

"I'm sorry," he said immediately, recognizing that he was in a very bad situation. "I'm really sorry for..." And he stopped, trying to figure out what he was about to be punished for. She wasn't too surprised.

She grabbed him by the ear, picking up a towel before dragging him into her bedroom. Throwing the towel over her legs to keep the freshly-showered boy from getting water all over her skirt, she patted her lap. "Over my knee," she told him. He obeyed immediately – he knew better than to argue with her when she was in this mood.

She picked up the brush, patting it against his quivering cheeks. As she now had his complete attention, she decided to tell him where he'd gone wrong. "You stayed up far too late last night, and slept all morning," she lectured. "When I came to wake you, you were rude and refused to answer me, and you even called me a dirty word." She patted his bottom again, almost giggling as she watched his cheeks clench. "Let's see if we can remove that word from your vocabulary."

She brought the brush down hard, raining spanks down on his unprotected backside. He was soon kicking his legs, protesting loudly at every solid smack. In a few minutes, his pale skin had turned pink.

"I don't want to do this," she told him sternly. "And I don't think you want me to do this either." He was struggling to hold back tears, arching his back to escape the pain. "But until you learn to behave yourself, I will keep this brush nearby to remind you."

Andrew was sobbing, pleading with her that he'd learned his lesson and would behave from now on. He always did. But she kept spanking, making sure she covered every inch from the top of his thighs to his upper cheeks – paying particular attention to his sit spots: she wanted him to remember this spanking.

Finally, once he'd been reduced to a tear-faced, red-bottomed wreck, she put the brush down, picking him up for a hug as he cried into her shoulder. Once he'd calmed down a bit, she helped him to his feet.

"I'm fixing breakfast," she told him. "You go get dressed."

She considered whether she'd let him have a pillow during breakfast. Those wooden chairs could be awfully hard, but he hadn't done much to earn it.

Caught with a girl (FF/M story)

"So, Adam," Karen said, after a long, uncomfortable silence, "How is your business trip?"

Cindy stared open-eyed at the woman that had just burst into the hotel room. "What's going on?"

Karen sent her a quick smile. "Well, since my husband is unlikely to introduce me, I'll have to do it myself. Hi, I'm Karen. How are you?"

"HUSBAND?" The wheels in Cindy's head were finally working. She turned to the man in the bed next to her. "You're MARRIED!?"

Adam blushed like mad. He opened his mouth, then closed it again, clearly unable to articulate his thoughts. Cindy had a feeling he wouldn't have helped himself if he could.

"Let me give you a little hint, Adam. That ring on your finger? The one you slipped into your pocket before going to the bar? That means you don't get to fool around with girls, dear." She crossed her hands in front of her, glaring at her husband. "Maybe you don't remember the last time you failed to keep your hands to yourself. Do you need a reminder, Adam?"

"N-no, please, Karen, I'll-"

"In fact, let's do it right here! I think having Cindy watch this will help make this stick in your memory."

"What's going on?" Cindy suddenly found herself part of the conversation again, and she wasn't sure she liked it."

"Why don't you answer her question, Adam." He hesitated, and she added. "NOW, if you know what's good for you."

Adam turned towards Cindy, blushing again. "She's going to take me over her knee and spank me."

Cindy stared at him, having some difficulty comprehending it all. "What?"

"I'm going to take him over my knee and give blister his bottom with THIS," Karen said, holding up a large wooden hairbrush. She sat down on the bed. "Get over here, Adam."

Adam climbed over her knee. She patted his bottom a couple of times with the brush, before raising it high over her head.

As the smacks rained down on his bottom, and Adam cried out, Cindy woke from her petrification. Less than two feet from where she was sitting, the man that she had been doing wonderful things to her body a short while ago, was now over his wife's lap, getting his bare buns toasted by her brush. This was something worth seeing!

Karen had given her husband quite a few whacks with her brush when she spotted Cindy, who had crawled closer to the action. "Trying to get a better view?"

"Sorry," Cindy said, blushing.

"Don't apologize for it. If I were in your shoes, I'd be trying to sneak a peek as well." She pointed at a chair near the wall. "Why don't you sit there, you'll have a great view of the whole thing."

Cindy sat down, a little taken back by just how nice Karen was being. She had just found a woman in bed with her husband. Most people would be a bit angry at that. Luckily, it appeared that Karen was focusing all her anger on her wayward husband.

They sat there for a while, Karen spanking away, Cindy watching it with a big grin on her face. From his pleading, it would appear that Adam wasn't enjoying it as much as her, but that didn't bother her.

Suddenly, Karen looked up at Cindy, as if she'd had a sudden thought. "Would you like to try?"

"Try what?" Cindy said, confused by the sudden question.

"Spanking him, of course!" Karen answered, giving her husband's bottom a good slap. "After all, he's probably lied to you quite a bit to get you here. Telling you he's single, for instance. He should pay for that."

Cindy just stared. Was she joking? She looked into Karen's eyes. She was serious. "Uhm, I've... That is, I've..."

"You've never spanked anyone before?" Karen asked. Cindy nodded. "Don't worry, I'm sure you'll pick it up." She turned towards her husband. "Stand up." He did so, seemingly quite unhappy with the direction their conversation was going.

Karen rose to her feet, directing Cindy to sit on the bed. Adam was then ordered over her knee.

"Now, take this brush and -" Karen began, then frowned. "Hm. Maybe he should ask you for his punishment. A little extra humiliation would do him a world of good." She turned to her husband again. "Ask her for punishment, Adam." He hesitated, and she added; "Or would you rather get the strap when I get you back home?"

He turned his head, looking up at Cindy. "Please, Cindy, will you give me a good, hard spanking?"

Cindy grinned at him. This was getting better every second! "Sure, since you asked so nicely." She accepted the brush and raised it into the air.

The first few smacks were far lighter than what Karen had been providing; she could tell that by the sound of the smack alone. In addition, when Karen was wielding the brush, Adam had been squirming and kicking, while now, he was laying limp. That wouldn't do.

She smacked him harder, and harder again, until both the brush and Adam's cries sounded like before. Cindy beamed, and turned towards Karen, who was smiling reassuringly at her.

Cindy laughed as she brought the brush down again and again, draining the stress from her body. This was a man that had lied to her, promising her the world while he had a wife waiting at home. This wasn't the first time this had happened, but at least THIS bad boy wouldn't get away with it!

Adam cried and kicked and pleaded, but she wasn't showing him any more mercy than his wife had. She was in control, and she liked it!

Some time later, Karen and Cindy were sitting on the bed, chatting. "So, did you like it?" Karen said, smiling at the younger girl.

"I loved it!" Cindy said, beaming at her. "The authority, the power, the..."

"A powerful feeling," Karen told her.

Cindy turned to look at Adam, who was standing in the corner, still nude. With his hands on his head and a red rear on display, he was quite a funny sight.

"Well, I'll be taking this misbehaving boy back with me soon. Maybe I'll wash his mouth out with soap for lying," Karen said with a glare at her husband.

"You do that," Cindy replied, grinning as she left. Karen had a feeling she'd created one more spanko in the world.

Cindy stepped into the cool night air, taking it all in. The more she thought about it, the more enjoyable she had found the whole event. A naked man over her lap, promising to be good as she reddened his tush with that wicked brush...

She wondered where she could find a brush like that.

"So, what did you think, dear?" Karen said, pouring a glass for her husband. The girl had left, and the masquerade was over.

"You used her name," he told her.

"What?" she said, not really following.

"You called her Cindy when you first entered the room. She never introduced herself. I didn't introduce her to you either."

She frowned. "I'll have to look out for that in the future. Spoils the act. Luckily, she didn't catch on." She turned to her husband. "How was it? Was it everything you wanted?"

"It was exciting, for sure. I fool around with a pretty blonde AND get a spanking? Fantastic evening. I think I'll have bruises, though," he said, examining his rear end in a mirror with a worried look on his face.

"Well, she's a beginner. She's bound to make mistakes."

"I think she did well, all things considering. It still stings like crazy."

"Aw," she said with mock sympathy, "Does your little bum hurt? Shall I kiss it all better?"

"Thanks for the offer. I'd like that, yeah," he said, grinning.

"Dream on," she said, throwing a pillow at his head. "I'll rub your bottom with cream, how does that sound?"

"If it can't be kisses, I guess it will be acceptable," he said, lowering himself over her lap again as she took out the jar of cream.

In the sun (F/M story)

Mike took another sip of beer, grinning to himself. It was one of the hottest days of the year, and he was sitting in the garden, enjoying the sun, drinking beer and listening to the radio. Life was good, he concluded. For the fifth time in as many minutes, he picked up the remote, turning the sound up. 70s rock blasted across the garden.

"Excuse me?" a voice said. He looked up, and saw Christie, the next-door neighbour, leaning over the fence. Christie was in her early twenties, making her almost a whole decade younger than Mike. She was short and cute, but he'd always found her a bit stuck up.

"What is it?" he asked, not trying especially hard to be friendly.

"Well, I was wondering if you could turn the music down. It's hard to relax when there's loud rock music everywhere."

Mike stared at her as if she'd politely asked him to cut his own testicles off. "It's AC/DC!" he replied.  "The best of the best!"

"Regardless, I'm sure you can turn it down. Other people are trying to relax. "

She left, and Mike sighed. What a bitch, trying to tell him what he could and couldn't do in his own garden.

A few minutes later, he heard her voice again. "Excuse me?"

"What?" he said.

"I thought you were going to turn that down," she said, getting a little annoyed.

"You thought wrong," he answered.

"Well, turn it down," she told him. "If I have to ask you again, you're going to regret it."

Bring it on, he thought to himself as he leaned back in his chair, putting on his sunglasses. No one was coming here and telling HIM what to do.

Suddenly, the garden turned silent. He looked over at the radio, and found Christie standing there, glaring at him with her arms folded in front of her.

"What did you do that for!?" he yelled. "I was listening to that!"

"I asked you nicely, but you didn't listen," she told him, ignoring his outburst. "Now, you'll see how I am when I'm NOT being nice."

She grabbed his hand, pulling him to his feet. Mike was surprised; she was a lot stronger than she looked. Before he could react, she sat down in his chair, pulling him over her knees.

College Job (F/M story)

Roger walked up to the house, his body language clearly revealing that he wanted to be as far away from the place as humanly possible. He glanced at the address again, making sure he was at the right place.

He shook his head, frustrated at the situation. So what if he'd been drinking in his room at the dorm? He was an adult, for crying out loud. He should be allowed to drink where he wanted to. With a heavy sigh, he concluded that he was at the right address after all. He reached out to ring the doorbell.

A few seconds later, a girl about his age opened the door. She was short, with long red hair and a short skirt. Probably the daughter of the woman he was sent to see, he concluded. He hoped she wouldn't be allowed to watch his punishment – he couldn't imagine something worse than having this cute little thing watch his punishment.

"Can I help you?" the girl asked.

"Uhm. I have a note here for a Miss Debbie..." he said, hoping she wouldn't know what that entailed. He was completely unprepared for the shock that was to come.

"That's me," the girl said, holding her hand out for the note. "Miss Hartley sent you, right?"

"YOU'RE Debbie?" he said, staring at her in shock. This was the strict disciplinarian? This slip of a girl, barely out of her teens – if that?

"MISS Debbie, to you," she said, frowning. Her hand was still extended, waiting for the note. When he didn't move, she reached out and took it from his hand. "Usual stuff I see. Drinking at school grounds, wanted alternative to expulsion... dime a dozen, really." She held the door open. "Come on in, and we'll get this taken care of."

"You look like you're still in college," Roger said as he entered, still shocked by this turn of events.

"I am," she said as she closed the door behind him, leading him into a comfortable living room. "Doing Miss Hartley a few favours, and getting paid as a teacher's assistant. I'd do it for free, but I'm not going to refuse the money offered to me. A few years ago, my older brothers were studying here, and doing so quite poorly," she said, with an almost disinterested air as if she'd told the story a hundred times before. "When I began here, I could see with my own eyes the mischief they got up to. Skipping class, drinking all night, loud music..." she shook her head, before shrugging. "So I spanked them."

"You... spanked your older brothers?" Roger said.

"Pulled their underpants down, took them over my knee and spanked them until they sobbed their eyes out – and for quite some time after that too. Their grades improved dramatically after that – though I did give them a few reminders, just to keep them at the top of their game." She sat down on the couch. "Anyway, Miss Hartley saw the change that came over my brothers, and asked them why they were working so hard. They refused to answer her, so she asked me. I showed her how I'd gotten their attention."

"Showed her?" he asked in an alarmed voice.

"Spanked them right in front of her," she explained. "She was a bit shocked as I called them in and pulled their underpants down – and so were they, to be honest - but by the time they were allowed into the corner, she seemed quite pleased with my work." She smiled, satisfied with herself. "But there were plenty of other lazy students, of course. So we decided to make a deal; any time a student faces expulsion as a result of low grades or other misbehaviour, we give them the chance to come here and take a spanking from me instead. Some refuse the deal, but we see a marked improvement in the behaviour of those that accept." She looked at him, her eyes suddenly cold. "Which brings us neatly to why YOU'RE here."

Roger felt a cold shiver down his back. This was unbelievable. The girl was a foot shorter than him, and looked like a stiff breeze would knock her off her feet, and he was scared witless by her.

"I trust Miss Hartley told you what you could expect here?" she said. He nodded. "What did she say?"

"She said... she said you'd punish me, miss."

"Oh, that's all she told you?" she said teasingly. "She didn't tell you I would give you a good spanking? She didn't tell you I'd take your trousers and underpants down first? She didn't tell you I would smack your bottom hard until it was very, very red and you were very, very sorry?"

"Uhm. She said all of those things, miss."

"Good," Debbie said with a grin. "You know what's coming, then. I don't think there's any reason we shouldn't start right away, then." She sat up, patting her lap. "Take off everything below the waist and lay over my lap, please."

He stared at her. "E... everything?"

She sighed. "You were promised a BARE-BOTTOM spanking, were you not? I believe those were Miss Hartley's exact words?" He nodded. "Well, tell me, genius, how are you going to get a BARE-BOTTOM spanking if I don't BARE your BOTTOM?"

Reluctantly, he took off his trousers, folding them and placing them on a nearby chair. He looked at the girl that was about to take him over her knee. She was a cute, petite woman. The thought that she would not only see him naked, but actually SPANK him, was the most embarrassing thing he could imagine. She was wearing a tight top, and a short skirt that almost revealed her panties when she sat down. He took off his socks, placing them on the chair, and was about to lower his underpants when he suddenly discovered something that would make this even more humiliating.

He had an erection.

"Come on, get your clothes off," Miss Debbie said impatiently. "I haven't got all day."

He hesitated, but as he saw the frown on her face, he realized that any time wasted could have dire consequences. He took a deep breath and lowered his boxers.

"Aw, how cute. You think this is going to be fun, do you?" She smiled. "Don't worry. It will be long gone by the time your spanking is over, I promise you that. You're not the first naughty boy to go over my lap with an erection."

She patted her lap again, and he leaned forward, placing himself over those soft thighs. Her soft skin under his, the smell of her perfume – the contact between them would have been heavenly in any circumstances but these. She adjusted him over her lap, so that his bottom was raised over her knee. She rubbed his bottom gently, giving it a quick pinch. "Are you ready for this, you naughty, naughty boy?"

She didn't wait for an answer before she began the spanking.

Roger hissed in pain as the first smacks landed on his backside, and his mind, which had gone slightly cloudy, was suddenly crystal clear. Her hand stung like crazy.

"Stop kicking," Miss Debbie said strictly, without pausing the assault on his bottom for a single second. "If I have to hold you down, you'll regret it."

"But it hurts!" he whined.

"Spankings tend to do that," she explained calmly. "That's the point of them."

He tried his hardest to lie motionless as her hand moved from cheek to cheek, bringing a sharp pain every time they crashed down on his unprotected buttocks. Finally, when he could feel tears at the edges of his eyes, she stopped.

"Hm," she said as she poked his bottom, taking a close look at the pink flesh before her. "Yes, I think the first part of your spanking is over."

"First part?" he said. He didn't like the sound of that.

"Well, yes," she said. "You didn't think that was it, did you? I told you that you would be very red and very sorry before you were allowed to leave." She pinched his bottom, causing him to hiss in pain. "This is barely pink. We have a long way to go yet, little boy." She gave his tight a quick slap. "Now, get up and go over to that drawer. You'll find a hairbrush that I want you to bring back here."

He got to his feet, staring at her. His butt was already burning like crazy. How could she expect him to take any MORE?

She noticed his hesitation. "Let me simplify things, Roger," she said. "You only have two options here. One, you leave this house, and take your expulsion. Two, you go get that brush and get your little butt over my knee for the rest of your spanking. Those are your options, so whatever you choose, I suggest you get moving before I decide to add to your punishment."

He certainly didn't want extras, so he walked over to the drawer, gasping as he pulled out the brush. It was a large, thick brush of hard wood that looked like it would be absolute murder on his bottom. "I'm waiting," she reminded him, and with heavy heart, he handed the object to the waiting girl. She patted it against her palm, giggling as she watched him squirm. "Not looking forward to this, are you, Roger?" She smiled. "That's the point, after all." She patted her lap impatiently, and once again, he found himself over those soft thighs.

He cried out as the brush suddenly crashed down on his backside and an explosion of pain spread across his poor cheeks. He jerked around, trying to get away from the awful sting, but she had been prepared, locking his legs with her own to make sure he didn't go anywhere. One arm circled around his waist. she giggled to herself as he trashed around on her lap, trying in vain to escape the pain.

"Are you sorry you've been such a bad boy, Roger? I'd hate to do this to you again," she said, which was an obvious lie.

Finally, after what seemed like forever to the young man, he was let off her lap. He sank down to his knees, and she held his head in her lap as he cried.

"I hope you've learned your lesson," she said. "Because Miss Hartley won't hesitate to send you back here if she thinks you need it, believe me."

He believed her.

Summoning (F/m story)

Aquilla grinned to himself as he finished the circle. He put the bag of sulphur down on the small table and examined his handiwork.

As far as he could tell, it was a perfect summoning circle. Good. When it came to summoning, "almost perfect" was the same as "absolutely useless". Being alone in a room with a powerful creature you couldn't control was not advisable, especially one you had torn from its home to subject to your will.

He knew there was risk involved, of course. There always was. Power never came free, but that didn't mean the risk wasn't worth it. Mostly because he'd show Lucinda who was the better sorcerer. Lucinda was one of the other mages at the academy, a year older, and she was not one of Aquilla's closer friends.

He looked over the circle again, trying to spot a weakness. There was no point in putting it off any longer. Either he had to wash away the circle again, or light it and try the summoning. He lit it.

At first, nothing happened, and Aquilla was wondering if he'd messed it up in some way. Then, suddenly, a dark cloud appeared, forcing him to cover his mouth and nose. For some time, he stood there, bending over and coughing, unaware of what was happening around him. When he regained his senses, he noticed that he wasn't alone in the room anymore.

A tall, beautiful woman was standing in the middle of the circle, examining her surroundings with an annoyed look on her face. She looked more human than he had anticipated; was there something wrong with the spell? Had he pulled some unsuspecting noble from her home?

She noticed him, and as he saw her eyes, he realized that she was no human after all. There was something in them, otherworldly and different. She was the real deal. A powerful demon, standing here in his room, ready to do his bidding.

He hoped.

"So, you're the summoner, then," she said. As far as he could tell, her voice was human. He still kept his guard up; sometimes, they weaved spells of enchantment into every sentence. She looked around in his room. "I was expecting a bit more, to be honest."

"Heed my words, oh demon. I am Aquilla, mighty -"

"Are we at the Academy? Fairwater Academy? It's been a while since I've been here. A few years back, every little child with a wand would try to summon you and use your powers, but now, it's only the thicker ones."

Aquilla was unsure of what to do. He had to admit, he was expecting a bit more respect from her than this – or at least open hostility and anger. This joking attitude was a shock.

"I am not a child," he told her. "I am an adult, one of the older students."

"But you don't act like it, do you?" She said, smiling. "An adult wouldn't draw up a summoning circle in his room, would he? He'd choose the summoning rooms, or the lower halls, rooms DESIGNED for the purpose."

"Too public," he told her. "I'd like to keep this quiet." He knew he shouldn't be telling her these things. Withholding information from demons was a basic rule of summoning. It made it harder for them to track you down after you forced them to do your bidding. But he couldn't help himself.

"And you don't think they're going to notice the giant circle burned into the floor? Are you counting on them being blind?" She sniffed into the air. "And completely lacking any sense of smell? A bold plan, certainly, but not wise. Anyway," she continued, "An adult wouldn't tell a summoned demon his name, Aquilla. 'Names are tags, and tags help them find you', isn't that what they tell you here? Those are the mistakes of children, Aquilla. You may look like you're on the verge of adulthood, but your head is still not quite there."

Aquilla realized that he wasn't quite as in charge of the situation as he had hoped to be.

"Besides, only a child would botch up a summoning circle as badly as this."

Aquilla scowled at her. He'd been proud of the circle. It was one of his better. "I don't see anything wrong with it."

"There's no rune of willpower," she told him. A cold shiver ran down his back as he realized that the missing rune was the one that would control the demon. A large, powerful demonic entity was standing in his room, and he had no way of controlling her. He looked up in shock, and the demon grinned. "And finally, the penny drops." She stepped out of the circle and started walking towards him.

He backed away, grasping at the protective charms around his neck. "Back, foul creature, I beseech thee! You shall not have my life!"

"Aw, isn't that adorable?" she said, grabbing his arm. "Rest assured, I'm not after your life. I'm just going to teach you what happens when you pull demons from their rest." She sat down on his bed, pulling him over her knee.

Aquilla was paralysed with shock as she pulled his robe up. What was going on? As she pulled his underwear down, giving his now naked rear end a few firm smacks, he found all his questions answered. He was being spanked. By a demon.

"Hey!" he called out. "Ouch! You can't do this!"

"'Can't'? Brave words coming from a brat magician who can't even draw a proper circle," she told him, planting a series of hard smacks on his sit spots. "I can do far worse than this, I tell you. If I wanted to, I could pull you into my domain, torturing you for decades, leaving you a shell of your former self. A bit worse than a small spanking, no?" He shuddered at the prospect. "Luckily for you and your cute little tushy, I'm not going to do that. A childish punishment for a bratty child, isn't that more fitting?"

Aquilla wanted to protest, but howled in pain instead as the stinging slaps rained down on his poor, unprotected rear end. "Ow, please, I'll do anything, just let me up!"

"Still haven't quite figured out that you're not in charge?" the demon giggled. "If I wanted something from you – anything, really – I'd already have it. The only thing I want from you, is your bratty little butt, over my knee, getting some much-needed attention, and guess what?" She paused to rub his bottom. "I already have it." She started spanking again.

Aquilla was crying and kicking his legs, and his bottom was turning red, but still, the demon kept spanking. At last, long after he realized that resisting was useless, Aquilla found himself back on his feet.

"Uh-uh!" the demon said, smacking his hands away as he tried to rub. "Not yet." She led him into the corner, moving his hands to his head. "Stand here, and no rubbing." She drew a small circle in the air, causing a rain of green flashes that swiftly disappeared.

"What was that?" Aquilla asked nervously.

"A warning signal," the demon responded. "I have to go now, but I want you to stay in this corner for an hour. If you move, or try to rub that cute little rear, I'll know about it, and I'll come back and start your spanking from scratch. Also, it will let you a whistling sound when your time is up."

That last part was true, the rest wasn't, but she wasn't about to tell him that. She liked the thought of the young magician standing in the corner, even if she couldn't be here to see it. "Just a quick warning. If you try to summon me again, I'll be less merciful. Got that?" she said, giving each of his cheeks a few good smacks.

"Ow! Yes, I got it!" he whined.

"Good." And in a flash and a cloud of sulphur, she was gone.

Aquilla stood in the corner, coughing, hoping that no one, especially Lucinda, would come by before his corner time was up.

The Cane (F/M story)

She found it in an old closet, tucked away amongst outdated books and old forms. The school's old cane, which hadn't been used in years.

Jenny was a schoolteacher - a good one at that. In her private life, she was a spanker. Whenever David, her boyfriend for the last five years, needed a spanking, she would provide it. And now, she had found something to spice it up a little. They had used paddles, hairbrushes and once, a wooden spoon. But never a cane. She smiled as she picked up her cell phone.

“David, could you come pick me up later, when I'm off work? I want to show you something.” She couldn't help smiling as she thought about what she would do to David when he got there. She would make him pull down his pants and bend over the desk, and she would use the cane on him until his ass was bright red. She picked up the implement, giving her palm a light tap. She wondered how he would take it. She shook her head, trying to dispel the thoughts. That was for later. Now, she had a class to teach.


David made his way through the school, going past all the empty classrooms. There was something strange about a school when all the pupils had gone home. It seemed wrong to be there on your own.

He found Jenny's classroom, and went through the door. The second he entered the room, he froze in his tracks, his eyes locked on the long, thin object lying on the desk. Jenny was sitting behind the desk, her hair pulled back in a ponytail and a teasing smile playing around her lips, as she stood up and walked towards her boyfriend.

“Mister Newman, you were supposed to be here fifteen minutes ago. That will add to your punishment, I'm afraid,” she said, looking at him as strictly as she could.

David had no idea what was going on, but he liked it.

“Since you were so disruptive in class, I have decided to give you six of the best. Since you were late, you will receive two more, for a total of eight.” She picked up the cane, flexing it as she spoke.

“Drop your shorts and underwear and bend over the desk, please.”

David realized what was happening, and entered his role. “I'm sorry Miss, please don't cane me. Please!” he said, eyes fixed on the carpet, not moving an inch.

“Ten strokes it is, then.” She couldn't suppress a smile; David always looked so cute right before a punishment.

David complied, not wanting to increase his punishment further. He stood in front of the desk, pulled his shorts and briefs down to his knees, revealing how aroused he was. He leaned forward on the desk, resting his upper body.

Jenny walked up behind him, flexing the cane. She whipped the cane through the air a few times, enjoying both the sound it made and the sight of his bottom trembling in anticipation.

“You will count each stroke, loudly and clearly. If you forget to count, or get out of position, the stroke does not count. Do you understand?”

“Yes, Miss.” Jenny smiled as she drew back the cane.

WHACK! A bright red line appeared on David's backside, and he grunted in pain. That cane had quite a sting!

“One, Miss,” he said through gritted teeth.

WHACK! Jenny placed this stroke directly beneath the previous, making two parallel lines appear on his bottom. David sucked in air, and responded; “Two, Miss.”

Jenny was surprised at how hard David took his punishment; she could tell he was in real pain. The cane had to have quite a sting!

WHACK! David started dancing on the spot, trying his hardest get rid of the sting without getting out of position. “Three, Miss.”

WHACK! David cried out in pain, and Jenny wondered briefly if anyone was still at the school. If they were, they would surely hear him. She pushed the thought out of her head. If anyone was still there, it was too late to do anything now. “Four, Miss.”

WHACK! David kicked his legs while still keeping his upper body flat on the desk. No need to earn extras. “Five, Miss.”

Jenny put the cane down on the desk, walking forward to take a closer look on her boyfriend's bottom. She ran her fingers along the five deep ridges covering his bottom, and thought briefly about the force involved in deforming his bottom in this manner. The pain had to be unbearable. She didn't want to call the caning off, since they tried never to call off a scene when it had first begun, but she decided to use less force on the last five strokes. It was, after all, just play. There was no true punishment involved.

WHACK! The sixth stroke was a light one, barely leaving a mark on his bottom. Too light, she decided. It was still a caning, after all. “Six, Miss.”

WHACK! A harder stroke than the previous, but still softer than the first five. She smiled proudly; that was more like it! “Seven, Miss.”

WHACK! By now, David was crying, tears falling down on the desk in streams. She was unsure whether he had even noticed that the strokes were lighter now. “Eight, Miss.”

WHACK! David rolled around on the desk, his body lost in pain and pleasure. Somehow, he managed to stay in position, and hiccup up the required “Nine, Miss.”

WHACK! The last stroke was lower than the rest, drawing a line across his sit spots and causing him to cry out in pain again. “Ten, Miss.”

Jenny smiled at her handiwork. Ten parallel lines all over the bottom in front of her. As her boyfriend stood up, she walked forward, giving him a long kiss. The scene was over.

The events had filled her with energy, and as her hands ran over the deep ridges in his bottom, she was hornier than she had ever been in her life. Judging by the size of his erection, so was he.

This time, it was Jenny's time to bend over the desk, but entirely different reasons.

Camera (F/M story)

"Do you honestly think we couldn't see you?"

Mark looked up. A tall, intimidating blonde had stepped over to him, glaring at him.

"Excuse me?" he said, trying to seem innocent.

She pointed at his bag. "The camera in your bag? Do you honestly think we haven't seen you following us, trying to film our asses?"

She'd seen him. That wasn't good. "I don't know what you're talking about."

She slapped his face. Hard. "You're already in a world of trouble, young man, so I suggest you don't make it worse for yourself."

"Okay, okay," he said, stepping back while rubbing his sore cheek.

"So, here's what's going to happen. Either you come with me, and me and my friend will make you sorry you ever misbehaved. Or, we call the police. I don't think they'll be kind to a pervert like you. What do you say? The Justice system, or MY Justice?"

"What would your justice entail?"

She stepped forward, leaned in and whispered: "Well, I take you over my knee and spank you. A good, long spanking to make you good and sorry. Does that answer your question?"

He nodded.

"Now, answer mine. Which do you want?"

"I'll take your punishment."

"Good. Pick up your bag and follow me."

As he followed the blonde's beautiful backside, Mark positioned the bag as best he could. It was an excellent opportunity to get some first-class footage, and he wasn't wasting it.

They entered a small, white house. Inside was a brunette, just as big and strong as her blonde friend.

"Hey Janet, you know he was filming you while you were walking here, right?"

The blonde turned to Mark, an amused look on her face. "I guess he's even more naughty than we thought, still trying to dig his hole deeper."

Janet sat down in a straight wooden chair nearby. "Okay, pervert, here's what's going to happen. I'm going to bare your bottom and take you over my knee. Then, I'm going to spank your bare bottom until you can't sit down for a week. While this is happening, Sara..." she nodded at her friend, "is going to hold your camera and film it all. Any questions?"

He shook his head.

"Good. Come over here." She grabbed his trousers and underpants, pulling them down in one movement. His erection bobbed up and down. Janet reached forward, grabbing it. "Well, well, well. Look at this. Are you looking forward to going over my knee, pervert? Are you hoping for a little spanking fun?" She grabbed his arm and pulled him over her knee. "Well, your luck is out, because this is going to be a LONG, HARD spanking, and it's not going to be fun. Well, at least not for you."

The first few smacks landed, and Mark was shocked by the sting. "Hey, that hurts!"

"It's a punishment. It's supposed to hurt." A series of smacks to his sit spots, causing him to cry out in pain. "I don't know why you're so surprised. I promised you a good, painful spanking. I'm giving you a good, painful spanking. Why the surprise?"

Mark was determined not to let her see how much it hurt, but to his humiliation, he could feel tears running down his cheeks.

"Hey, Sara, getting good footage?"

"Plenty. High-quality camera, too. Too good to belong to this pervert, really."

"Can you get some good footage of his face as I spank him?"

The brunette kneeled in front of Mark, sticking the camera in his face.

"Now, pervert, tell the camera how sorry you are."

"I'm really, really sorry," he said between sobs.

"Aw, has the little crybaby got a sore bottom already?" She reached one hand under his waist, grabbing his penis. "And you're not erect any more. I guess this isn't as much fun as you'd hoped. I can't tell you how happy I am for that."

And with that, the smacks came harder and faster, and Mark was begging to be let off. Finally, after what seemed like forever, she lifted him up and placed him on his feet.

"Now, stand in this corner, facing inwards and hands on your head. If you move, it's back across my knee. Is that understood?"

"Yes, ma'am."

After what seemed like hours, he heard Janet's voice. "Hey, pervert, you can come out now. We got some decent footage of your red butt in the corner, but we need you to face the camera, tell us you're sorry, and that you won't do it again." Mark hesitated. "Or we could give you another five minutes over my knee first. That colour in your cheeks is starting to fade."

Mark hurriedly finished his apology. Sara took out the tape, returning the camera to Mark. "Now brat, if we find you perving out like this again, we'll invite a few of our friends, and take you in turns. Is that understood?"

Mark nodded.

"Good. Now, get dressed and get out."

Mark stepped out on the city streets, going home to find some ice.

Unexpected (F/M story)

He knew he'd said too much. Aiden had always had a mouth quicker than his brain, and he'd gotten in trouble for it more than once. But he couldn't think of anyone he'd insulted quite like he'd insulted his girlfriend now.

It'd been two days, and he could tell she was still really upset. Eve was usually quite forgiving, but he had a feeling this could be the end of their relationship. But he wasn't going to let that happen without doing his best to fix it.

"Listen, Eve, I'm sorry about it. Really, I am." She glared at him, but didn't respond. He sighed. "What can I do to convince you I'm sorry? I'll do anything, name it."

She looked him up and down, as if judging him. "There's only one thing that'll make me feel better about your apology."

"Name it," he told her.

She glanced over at the wall, unable to stomach the sight of him any longer. "You've hurt me, hurt me deeply, and you're going to pay for that the old-fashioned way." She looked at him again. "With a good, old-fashioned spanking."

You could have heard a pin drop in the silence that followed. "Sorry?" he said at last.

"You heard me. That's your only option. You either go to the bedroom, remove your trousers, and go stand in the corner until I come to put you over my knee, or you pack your bags and get the hell out."

There was no real choice there.

He placed his trousers on the bed, shivering a little in the cold of the bedroom. He faced the corner, thinking about what was going to happen. A spanking! He hadn't been spanked in years, since that time he was twelve and decided to test whether his sister's bicycle would float.

And now his girlfriend was going to take him over her lap. Would it hurt? Ordinarily, he wouldn't have thought her capable of really causing him pain, but he knew she would be pretty upset.

"Have you thought about your actions?" she said as he entered the room.

"Yes, Eve. I have," he said as he turned to face her. His eyes widened a little as he spotted the large wooden hairbrush in her hand. His mother had owned one quite like it.

She sat down on the bed, crooking her finger at him to come closer. He walked towards her, legs beginning to get weak. She hooked her fingers into the waistband of his boxers, pulling them down to his knees. He blushed a little; he'd been naked in front of her before, plenty of times, but never quite like this.

She patted her lap. "Come here."

He lowered himself over her lap, and flinched a little as she began rubbing his bottom with the brush. "Are you ready for this?"

Not really, he thought to himself. But there was no point in wasting any more time. "I'm ready."

The first few smacks took him by surprise; it had been quite a while since he'd been spanked, and the years had drove all memory of the pain away. Now, however, it all came flooding back.

He kicked his legs a little.

"Settle down, or I'll miss," she told him.

"But it hurts!"

"That's the whole point," she responded. She tightened her grip on him; he wasn't getting away until she was done.

When she finally put the brush down, telling him to get up, his bottom felt like it was on fire. He jumped to his feet, trying in vain to rub the sting away. Eve suddenly realized that he had an erection.

"What's this?" she giggled. "Did you enjoy having your bottom smacked, Aiden?"

He blushed. There was no denying it.

She smiled up at him. "Well, baby, maybe we'll repeat this next weekend, when your bottom has had a while to recover."

She looked down at her jeans, noticing the wet spot on her tight.

"Remind me to wear something OTHER than my best jeans," she said, clucking disapprovingly.

Up the stairs (F/m story)

The winter I turned sixteen, I spent a few weeks living in my aunt's apartment. I didn't have too many friends there, so I felt a bit lonely, but one thing made things a lot better.

Her name was Lara, a tall redhead about ten years older (and I knew well enough not to ask). She had great curves, and she was never scared to show it off. She was always wearing short skirts, but unfortunately, you couldn't see QUITE enough if you walked behind her. Luckily, her apartment was in the same building as my aunt's, with the same stairs, so if I hung back and let her go first, I could follow her up the stairs and look up her skirt – and I did, more than once. Much more.

This was a Tuesday, and to my pleasure, I arrived home at the same time as her. "After you," I told her, trying to seem like a little gentleman – a role I had some experience with. She didn't smile at me, like she usually did when I did these little gestures. In fact, she looked annoyed. This lit up something of a warning bell in my head. Something was wrong, and I didn't know what, so the wise thing to do was to get out of there. Of course, since there was a chance I'd get a good look at her backside if I stayed, the choice was easy.

She started up the stairs, and I followed, and as I hoped, her skirt was short enough to give me a good look of a delicious backside in a pair of none-too-modest panties. These glimpses were the highlight of my day.

She reached the top of the stairs, and after she'd unlocked her apartment, she turned around to glare at me. "Alan, do you think I'm stupid?" she said angrily.

"What?" I said confused. "No! Why do -"

Her hand shot forward, grabbing my earlobe, and I cried out; she could really pinch. "Don't try to be clever, you little pervert," she said. "You think I haven't noticed you staring at my ass? You're not subtle, boy. You're far from subtle. Luckily, I know just what to do."

She pushed the door to her apartment open, dragging me in by the ear. Resisting was in no way an option.

"Think you're clever, boy?" she said as she pushed me into the living room, letting go of my ear. I rubbed it gingerly. "Well, your little stunt just earned you a good spanking, young man."

"What?" I said. "A spanking? You can't -"

"Can and will, little man." She pulled out a dining room chair, sitting down on it. "You've stared at my ass for days, it's high time I saw yours – and I think I want it in red." She patted her lap. "Drop your shorts and underpants and bend over my knees." I hesitated, and she added: "Or do you want to add to your punishment? Want me to get my hairbrush?"

I'd never been spanked before, much less with a hairbrush, but some of my friends back home HAD, and they'd spoken about the hairbrush as if it was some ancient evil from the dawn of the Earth or something. I was fairly sure I didn't want to feel it. I unbuttoned my shorts, pulling them down past my knees, before leaning forward. She stopped me, and gave my bottom a quick slap. "Underpants too, young man." I blushed, but did as she instructed.

"Now," she said, patting my cheeks as I laid bare-bottomed over her lap. "I think a childish punishment like this fits your childish actions as of late." She raised her hand and started spanking.

I gasped as the burn spread through my cheeks , and I tried to stand up. "Stay in position, sport," she said, holding me down. She giggled. "Not used to being spanked, are you? Not to worry. Before this is over, you'll have had a proper introduction."

She kept spanking me in silence. At least, she was silent; I was letting out yelps of pain every time her palm landed on my poor bottom. I would never have believed that her hand could hurt as much as it did.

About ten minutes later, I'd given up on holding the tears back, and I was crying openly. It did nothing to lessen the punishment; if anything, it seemed to egg her on to spank harder. I kicked my legs, but she lifted her right leg, wrapping it around mine, so I couldn't move them. I She also grabbed my hands with her left, making sure I didn't reach back. With my hands and feet held firmly in place, there was nothing I could do but cry and beg, and I did plenty of both.

I have no idea how long I was over her lap, but by the time she pulled me to my feet, it felt like she had ironed my bottom. I tried to rub the sting away, but she slapped my hands. "Not yet," she said. "Go stand with your face to the wall. Hands on your head, no rubbing. I think a bit of time left to think will do you a lot of good."

I spent the next thirty minutes facing that wall, wanting with all my heart to reach back and rub my sore cheeks, but terrified of the consequences should I do so.

This even left me with a very difficult choice. Should I stop trying to stare at her ass, giving up that lovely sight forever? Or should I continue, a little more stealthily in the future, with all the dangers that involved? Good question.

Speeding (F/M story)

Peter Reid was quite used to speeding tickets. He had a fast car, and firmly believed that it entitled him to drive as fast as he could. The police, unfortunately, had a different view. As a result, he had more speeding tickets than anyone else in the state. And right now, he realized, he was about to earn another one.

As he pulled over and waited for the cop to come over to the car, he realized that he knew her; it was officer Taylor, an old friend. He had even flirted with her a couple of times, and she didn't seem to be unresponsive. He could smooth talk his way out this. He'd done it before.

"Hello, officer. Aren't you a sight for sore eyes?"

"Drop it, Peter. It's not going to work this time." Her tone was quite rough; this wasn't going to be as easy as he had first thought.

"What? I'm just -"

"You're trying to talk your way out of the ticket. Well, I've seen how little you care about those. It isn't like you can't pay them. But I have good news and bad news. The good news is that you aren't getting a ticket. The bad news is, you're getting something else, and you're not talking your way out of that. Get out of the car."

He decided to do as she said. There was something in her voice, something more commanding than usual. She told him to stand next to the hood, and he did so. What happened next, however, was quite a shock. She reached her hands forward and undid his trousers!

He reached his hands down to stop her, but she slapped them away. He couldn't figure out what was happening, and he didn't like it one bit. She pulled his trousers and underpants down, leaving him completely bare! She then pushed him forward, making him lean over the hood of the car.

"Hey, what's the – OW!"

As an answer, officer Taylor had slapped his bottom quite hard. She gave him a dozen more slaps, all harder than the previous. "Isn't it obvious? No matter what we do, it doesn't seem to affect your speeding. Well, I believe that a sore bottom might change that!"

He tried to get up, but she held him down with her left hand while her right hand worked on his bottom.

"Hey, we're still by the roadside! Anyone passing by can see this! Let me up!"

"Not a chance. Let them see. And you're not getting up until I say so."

And she kept spanking until his bottom was nice and pink. She bent down to his trousers, and Peter breathed a sigh of relief that it was over.

But to his surprise, she picked up his belt and stood back up. What was going on? Suddenly, he realized what she was planning. “No! Please, I've had enough, don't -”

“Obviously you haven't, or you'd realize that I'M the one that says when this is over. Perhaps a dose of the belt will make you see the errors of your ways.”

The belt whipped through the air, landing with a mighty CRACK! Then came several more. Peter laid across the hood of the car, too afraid of the consequences to stand up and too out of breath to speak.

Officer Taylor noticed that as Peter's bottom became redder, his behaviour and tone of voice bettered. Good, she thought. Her initial judgement had proven correct. This could prove to be quite a good way of dealing with this overgrown brat. Besides, he did have a cute butt.

By the time she put down the belt, Peter was crying hard. She helped him to his feet, and pulled his underpants and trousers back up. She gave him a hug to calm him down, and told him to get on his way. He eased his way down on the car seat, and officer Taylor delivered one last warning.

“Remember, all of the cops know to notify me if they catch you speeding. If that happens, I'll come round to your house with a hairbrush. Believe me, you don't want that to happen.”