My neighbour and her daughter (M/F story)

The first time I met the teenaged daughter of the woman who had just moved in next door, she was stubbing out a cigarette on the hood of my car.

Josie was a lanky, blonde nineteen-year-old who wore ripped shirts and booty shorts, and was the sort of delinquent who loved annoying everyone older than her. When I yelled at her and demanded to know why she'd vandalized my car, she smirked and giggled at my expression, surprisingly unconcerned about a man twice her weight shouting at her. Nothing I said made her show the least bit of remorse, so I eventually gave up and decided to talk to her mother.

Later that evening, I rang the doorbell of the little home, where I was greeted by a plump woman in her late thirties whose hair was as long and blonde as her daughter's. Frances showed me into the living room and offered me a cup of tea, and I told her what had happened earlier in the day. The woman seemed justifiably upset, but to my disappointment, she was reluctant to deal with her daughter.

"I just don't know what to do," she sighed.

"She's your daughter, and living in your house," I pointed out. "Surely you've had to punish her before? Ground her, spank her, take away privileges?"

She shook her head. "It was my dear husband who handled those things. After he passed away…" She shook her head sadly. "I'm just not up to the task."

"And how long ago was it?" I asked, trying to keep my voice kind.

"A little over six years."

Six years. The girl had not been punished since she was thirteen. Suddenly, the fact that she'd grown up into a brat seemed less surprising. "But she vandalized my car! Deliberately! This cannot go unpunished!"

The woman nodded. "That's true. Would you be willing to deal with her? I think a good spanking could teach her a lesson."

The flatmate's boyfriend (M/F story)

As Ellie entered the flat, one large bag of groceries in each hand, she could hear high-pitched and indignant squeals coming from her flatmate's bedroom, accompanied by stern, deep scolding and some rather loud smacks.

"Spanked again?" she muttered to herself, grinning. "I wonder what she did this time." Ellie went to put the kettle on; she wanted a cup of tea as soon as possible, and considered it likely that one or both of the people in that bedroom wanted one as well.

When Paula first moved in, she and Rory had tried to keep their kink secret from her flatmate. He would only punish Paula if he thought Ellie was out of the flat, and he never made any obvious spanking threats while Ellie was in the room – just comments like "We'll discuss this later" or "I need to talk to you about that."

Eventually, however, they discovered that Ellie wasn't as blind as they thought she was, and that she'd known about their activities for some time. However, they also realized that Ellie didn't care what happened in Paula's bedroom, provided that it STAYED in the bedroom, and that they never made any inappropriate noise when she had visitors. The couple found these rules to be very sensible and easy to follow, so they readily agreed.

Now, about once per week, she would overhear Paula being scolded, bared from the waist down, placed face-down across her boyfriend's lap, and spanked until she was sobbing and promising to be good. Ellie found it strange, but harmless, as long as Paula consented – which she did, enthusiastically.

Ellie had been reading a book in the comfy chair for about half an hour when Rory entered the room. "Oh! Hi, Ellie. I didn't realize you'd come home. I hope we didn't –"

She waved it off. "I've told you before, don't worry about it." She sipped her tea. "What did she do this time?"

"Hm? Oh, she has an essay for one of her college classes. I asked her if she'd finished it, and she told me she hadn't – and she sassed me!"

Ellie chuckled. "Yes, she has a bit of a mouth sometimes, doesn't she? By the way, I put the kettle on when I arrived, but you should probably turn it back on if you want a cup. Do you think Paula will want one?"

Rory re-heated the kettle and poured himself a cup. "She probably does, but right now, she's standing in the corner and thinking about what she's done. I'll bring her one when her punishment's over. She can drink it while we cuddle."

Paula had once told her flatmate about her corner time punishments – she had to stand with her nose against the wall and her hands on her head, with her bare, burning bottom visible for anyone to see. It sounded extremely humiliating, but it was probably quite fun to watch. Ellie wondered idly if she'd ever see her flatmate being punished.

Loud music (M/F story)

Leyla was dancing on the couch of her new flat, singing along at full volume to the music as she shook her tail enthusiastically. Once or twice, she even came close to hitting the right note. Suddenly, she became aware that someone was knocking at the door. She opened it to find a tall, middle-aged man with a grumpy look on his face.

"You're Leyla, right?" he said, speaking loudly to be heard over the music. "I'm Dwayne. I live below you." His voice was surprisingly deep.

The student smiled. "Nice to meet you, Dwayne. How can I help you?" she said brightly.

"You can turn that music down," he responded calmly.

Leyla stared at him. "Hey! I don't turn my music down for ANYONE, mister!"

"It's late, and I have work tomorrow," he said with a sigh, his voice revealing how tired he was. "Is this your first time living in a flat, with neighbours above and below you?"

Before starting college, Leyla had been living in her parents' farmhouse – where the closest neighbours were hundreds of yards away.  However, she had no intention of admitting that to a man who'd just shown up at her door. "I'm not turning the music down," she said, folding her arms in front of her chest.

"You need to learn respect for others, young lady," the man scolded as he pushed past her, finding the volume control on her stereo and turning it down.

Leyla gaped at him, wondering what offended her more – that he would lay a hand on her stereo, or that he'd call her "young lady" like she was some misbehaving child. She was twenty-two! "Y-you ca-can't…" She discovered that right now, she was too indignant for words.

She reached for the volume control to turn it back up, but he grabbed her wrist. His hand felt like steel. "Young lady, I have half a mind to put you across my knee and tan your backside," he growled. "I suggest you don't provoke me any further."

Leyla stared open-mouthed at him. Had he just threatened to spank her? Had she suddenly ended up in the eighteenth century? As she looked at him, she became acutely aware of the fact that the stern-looking man was more than a foot taller than her, and probably twice her weight or thereabouts. She suspected that if he wanted to take her over his lap, he could easily do it.

A spanking! Her mouth was dry, and her heart was trying to beat its way through her chest as she pictured herself bent across his knee with her bottom in the air. He wouldn't actually do it, would he? These days, you didn't spank women you'd just met. As a blush spread across her cheeks, part of her wanted to apologize to him, another part wanted to give him attitude and see what he would do, and the rest of her wanted to run and hide in the bathroom.

Before she'd made her mind up, he'd left her flat, closing the door quietly behind him.

Leyla spent some time sitting on the couch, his words replaying in her mind repeatedly as she pictured his bearded face glaring down at her. There was fascinating about her big, stern, scary neighbour, and she wondered what it would feel like to be punished by him…

Talking in the cinema (M/F story)

In the darkness of the movie theatre, Gwen leaned over to her boyfriend, saying "I can't believe they put the actress in that dress. Have you seen anything so ugly?"

"Ssh! No talking during the movie, remember?" Logan whispered back, as quietly and kindly as he could.

"And that makeup!" She pretended not to have heard him. "I wonder if it was the same person who committed both offences."

"People are trying to watch the movie," he whispered, slightly less kindly now.

She rolled her eyes. "It's a boring movie!"

"Shh! And you're the one that really wanted to watch it," he pointed out, still whispering.

Unable to think of a retort, Gwen sighed and leaned back in her chair.

A few minutes later, Logan leaned over to her. "Put your phone away," he whispered.

"Now YOU'RE the one talking," she replied sullenly – though just as loud as before.

"The light from your screen is distracting the people behind you. Put it away."

"I'm bored, so I'm going to check Instagram."

"You are going to put that phone away and be quiet, or I'm going to take you outside and put you over my knee – at which point you can make all the noise you want," he whispered in her ear.

Gwen froze, her eyes wide while a cold shiver ran down her back. Hurriedly, she placed the phone in her pocket. She knew Logan did not make idle threats. She prayed that no one had overheard him, but the whispers of the surrounding moviegoers dashed her hopes.

"Did you hear that? I think he threatened to spank her!"

The misaddressed emails (M/F story)

Melanie bit her lip as she looked at her boss, who was sitting behind his desk with a stern expression on his face. "I can only apologize for the mix-up, Mr Garner," she said. The tall, young redhead did her best to look as sorry as she felt.

"That sounds very good," Mr Garner replied as he steepled his fingers. The dark-haired, clean-shaven man seemed to be very good at looking disappointed. "But this isn't the first time, is it? Sending an email to the wrong company is bad enough, but to send a confidential contract…" He sighed. "I had to have to make some real apologies here."

She hung her head.

"Nothing more to say, Melanie?" he asked.

Melanie tried to think of something that could make the situation better. 'I am very sorry'? 'I'll do better'? 'My work will be exemplary from now on'? She couldn't think of anything that didn't sound trite. She opened her mouth, intending to say something like "I'll be a good worker", but to her horror, the words that emerged were "I'll be a good girl, I promise!"

As soon as she realized what she'd said, Melanie let out a small squeak, placing both hands in front of her mouth while blushing bright red. She stared at the floor as if hoping it would swallow her up, and it took some time before she dared look up at her boss.

Mr Garner was leaning back in his chair, doing his best to hide an amused smirk. "Well, that's…" It was clear he was trying to think of an acceptable response. "Well, that's good to hear, Melanie. You may return to your desk."

As she forced herself to walk calmly out of the room, barely resisting the urge for headless flight, she could hear him chuckle quietly.

Melanie let out a deep sigh as she sat down at her desk. She'd made a fool of herself in front of Mr Garner yet again! Her boss was only five or six years older than her, but he had a quiet confidence and self-assurance that made him feel older than that. He was kind and considerate, but when she disappointed him, he would look at her and speak to her in a tone that made her tummy do flipflops.

He was a good-looking man, too, and Melanie hated it when she looked incompetent or childish in front of him. She wanted so badly to impress him!

The millionaire's assistant (M/F story)

Lauren, who was a lanky blonde in her late thirties, had worked as a personal assistant for Mr Steel, the charismatic multi-millionaire, for more than three years now. The job was demanding, but not unrewarding – and one of those perks was that she got to spend time with her attractive boss.

Ash Steel was a tall, handsome bachelor with a thick head of copper hair. He was rapidly approaching fifty, but his exercise regime meant he had a body that many men half his age would envy him. He was charming and kind, and he remembered little details about his employees; he had a way of making them all feel seen and appreciated.

However, he also had high standards, and on the rare occasions when Lauren failed him, she would be called into his office, where she would stand in front of his desk as he scolded her. His stern tone and gaze made her blush and squirm like a schoolgirl standing before the principal, but if she had to tell the truth, she would have preferred the lectures to happen far more often.

There was just something about being scolded by the attractive man that made her feel pleasantly lightheaded, and in her private moments, she felt a tingling between her legs as she wondered what would happen if she pushed him too far. She imagined him furrowing his brow in disappointment and declaring that she needed to be punished.

In her dreams, he would state that the only way she could keep her job was if she went over his lap for a good, hard spanking. She would blush and whimper, pleading for mercy, but he would be unrelenting. In the end, she would have no choice but to bend over his lap for a well-deserved dose of strict discipline. He would spank her long and hard on her bare bottom as she bawled and twisted over his lap, until she had no more tears left to cry. Then, he would feel sorry for the sobbing young lady, and he would carry her to his bedroom for some soothing lotion – followed by a long night of passion.

Obviously, this would never happen in real life. Mr Steel was not a man to take advantage of his employees, and if she truly failed him, he was far more likely to fire her than to spank her. Not that Lauren would ever do anything worthy of such measures – she didn't even dare to deliberately misbehave for the lectures, so they only happened when she actually deserved them. However, every stern word from his lips was a gift that she would treasure in his heart.

The private beach (M/F story)

I'd been working as a security guard for the woman at the old mansion for more than two months now. Some of my friends expected that I'd have tales of tackling cat burglars to the ground or exchanging gunfire with terrorists, but fortunately, real life was far less exciting. I spent most of my time patrolling the grounds or playing cards with the other guards. Today, I was guarding the boss' private beach. Some might have found the task boring, but as far as I was concerned, I was being paid to hang out at the beach. My job was to sit in the shade wearing sunglasses and read a book, and if anyone walked past the "Private beach" signs, I would make them leave. The only difference between work hours and off-work hours was that I didn't have a beer in my hand.

Most of the time, asking firmly, but politely, was enough. When people are told to leave the premises by an official-looking, muscular, six-foot-tall man, they usually comply. If they refused repeated requests to leave, I phoned the police and asked them to remove the trespassers. I wasn't permitted to use physical violence, but not all of the teenagers that came here knew that, so an angry glare as I stood up could make them flee – which was both fun and effective, for they rarely came back after that.

It was about an hour left before my lunch break when I heard footsteps, and looked up to see a young woman in a bikini and flip-flops approaching the beach. She was a petite woman with short-cropped red hair and a face full of freckles, and I'd say she'd was in her early twenties. I stood up, deciding to be gentle – young women walking alone were usually easier to scare off, and I wanted to make her leave, not traumatize her. "Excuse me, miss, but this is a private beach."

"I know," she said, smiling at me. She tried to walk past me, and I stopped her.

"That means you can't be here," I told her, still gently, but my tone was firmer.

"Oh, those signs aren't for me, silly!" she giggled.

I frowned. This clearly wasn't Audrey, the woman I was working for – I knew how she looked and wasn't stupid enough to make that mistake. She also lived alone, with no partner or children. Could this young woman be working at the mansion? But I had never seen her before, and besides, none of the employees came here unless their boss was here.

"I'm going to have to ask you to leave," I told her in my stern security guard voice.

To my surprise, her only response was to roll her eyes, and she placed her towel down on the beach. "You can ask me whatever you like, but I'm going to stay right here and work on my tan." She smirked. "If you start being nicer, I'll let you help me with the sun lotion."

I glared at her. "A tan? I'll put you across my lap and tan your hide if you don't clear off!" Now, like I said, I wasn't allowed to use violence, nor was I allowed to make threats, but the girl's rudeness was getting on my nerves, and I wasn't thinking straight.

She'd been looking into her purse for something, but at my words, her head whipped round, and she stared wide-eyed at me. It was clear my threat had made an impression on her. I expected her to apologize and leave immediately. After a few seconds, however, she shook her head and looked at me dismissively. "An empty threat. You look too soft – I don't think you have it in you."

The good girl's cigarette (M/f story)

Zack was sitting on a park bench, enjoying both the sunshine and the first cigarette of the morning. He'd been a mechanic's apprentice for almost two years, but he'd been given the day off since they had so little to do at the moment. However, by the time he'd been told about it, he was already dressed and had eaten breakfast, so he didn't feel like going back to bed. Instead, he decided to spend his morning going for a walk and enjoying the sun in the park.

A teenaged girl in a school uniform glanced at him as she walked past. A few seconds later, she cast him a second glance, and she stopped, appearing to think very hard about something. After a minute or so, she approached him. "Excuse me, sir," she said, standing at attention with her hands at her back as if talking to a teacher. "May I have one of your cigarettes?"

Zack raised an eyebrow. This wasn't the first time someone had asked him for a cigarette, but he'd never been asked so politely before. There was something about her that told him that she wasn't a regular smoker. "Sorry, I don't give smokes to children."

The girl blushed, glaring at him. "I'm eighteen! I'm old enough to smoke!"

"In that case, you're old enough to buy a pack for yourself, then," Zack said, grinning at his own wit.

"I only need one cigarette," she said, then stopped, with an expression that suggested that she'd said too much.

Once again, Zack's eyebrow rose. This conversation was already quite interesting, and it was promising to be even more so. He glanced up at the lanky blonde at his side. "You're from Saint Ada's, aren't you? Only school in town with uniforms that I know of." He leaned back. "You should be careful. I heard they've reintroduced corporal punishment. If you're caught with a cigarette on school grounds, you might find yourself with a sore bottom."

The girl blushed, but there was something about her expression that suggested to Zack that he'd hit closer than she was comfortable with. Maybe she was more familiar with the disciplinary rules than he'd expected. Was she deliberately trying to get into trouble?

Huffing, she avoided his gaze. "If I can't have one of your cigarettes, that's fine, of course, but you should have –"

"I didn't say that," he replied, putting his hand in his pocket. He drew out the pack of cigarettes and held it out to her. She slowly reached her hand forward, but suddenly, his other hand closed around her wrist. "You know, if it's a sore bottom you're after, you don't have to be caught smoking. I can give you one if you want, and it won't show up on your permanent record."

The girl froze, staring wide-eyed at him, and he let go of her hand.

The high schooler and the chaperone (m/F story)

It was a beautiful Friday evening, but instead of hanging out with her friends at the pub, or at least sitting at home watching TV, Becky was chaperoning a room full of high school seniors. Her friend Alice worked at the school, and they'd been struggling to find adults who could oversee the party and make sure there were no drugs, cigarettes, or alcohol. Alice had nagged her until she'd agreed, so Becky spent her evening standing in the corner of the room, watching the teenagers dancing and attempting to flirt. It was at least somewhat amusing to see them stutter and fumble, she decided.

She noticed that one of the boys was looking at her. A tall, dark-haired young man in jeans and a dark jacket, there was something about his manner that suggested to her that he was probably considered one of the "cool kids" at the school. She guessed he was watching the chaperones to figure out the best place to sneak in booze, the little scoundrel. She'd better keep an eye on him. Or maybe she was being too harsh and making assumptions again and should give him the benefit of the doubt.

She was walking around the room to check that nothing inappropriate was going on, when her phone vibrated in the pocket of her jacket and realized someone was calling. She slipped out of the room, heading down the hall until she found an empty classroom, where she answered the call.

"Hi, Becky," her sister said. "You busy?"

Becky sighed. "Do you remember I told you about Alice's little request? I'm at the party now."

"Having fun, then?"

"What do you think?" Becky's tone of voice made her opinion quite apparent. "Not the way I wanted to spend the evening, let me tell you that."

"Ouch. Well, you're doing a good deed, so focus on that."

They chatted for a few more minutes. When Becky hung up and placed the phone back in her pocket, she suddenly heard someone behind her. "You know, phones aren't allowed at the party," a voice said teasingly. She spun around to see the dark-haired teenager smirking at her.

"I-I'm allowed to have it," she said, her voice trembling slightly, and she wondered why she was suddenly feeling nervous. A teenager was playfully scolding her – big deal.

He raised an eyebrow. "Oh? The rules don't apply to you, do they? Do you consider yourself better than the rest of us?" He tutted, but there was still a smirk on his face. "How naughty of you."

Her heart was beating rapidly, and her eyes widened when she realized that he hadn't been watching the chaperones after all; he'd mistaken her for one of the other seniors – and he was clearly flirting with her.

Part of her was flattered. The fact that this teenager thought she was a full decade younger than she actually was, and that he considered her attractive enough to flirt with, was certainly a boost to her ego. Another part of her was angry – why couldn't someone like him have flirted with her back then? When she was actually a teenager, she'd been invisible to the cool boys! 

The sensible part of her told her that she should clear up this misunderstanding at once and shut down his flirting. However, Becky decided not to listen to that particular voice. "And what are you going to do about it? Are you going to report me to the teachers?" She gave him a haughty look, but she couldn't quite keep the grin off her face.

"Maybe I should," he said, slowly walking towards her. "Or maybe I should punish you myself."

"Punish?" She stared at him, trying to look more confident than she felt. "What do you mean by that?" How could a teenager make her feel so nervous?

"Maybe I should make you write lines on the blackboard," he mused, still slowly approaching her. "Or stand in the corner." His smirk widened. "Or maybe I should take you over my lap and spank you."

Becky gasped, blushing bright red. Had a teenaged boy just threatened to spank her? She should DEFINITELY shut this down right now, before things got out of hand.

Caitlyn's birthday wish (M/F story)

"So, Caitlyn, anything in particular you want for your birthday next week?" Nash raised a hand to the bartender to order another round and then glanced at his best friend.

Caitlyn hesitated. "I have something in mind, but… it might be a big ask."

"Name it," he said as he paid for their drinks. "You'll only turn 30 once."

She bit her lip, taking a small sip of her cider. Staring into her glass, she finally admitted "I'd quite like a birthday spanking."

Nash stared at her, a look of surprise on his face. "I didn't think you saw me that way," he said after a while. "I'm afraid I don't –"

"Oh, no, not like that!" she hastened to add, waving her hands disarmingly. "There will be nothing romantic or sexual about it! Ew!" She took another sip. "It's just… I've always wanted to know what it's like to be spanked, and you're the safest guy I know."

"Thank you for the compliment," he said, with just the slightest hint of smugness in his voice. "But couldn't you have explored it with one of your ex-boyfriends? Did you ever ask Alex…"

She shook her head. "No. If I'm dating someone, I need us to be equals, and that's hard to do if he can take me over his lap and spank me whenever we argue." She looked at him. "We've never dated, so we don't have those kinds of arguments, and I know I'd be safe in your hands."

Despite his surprise, he thought about her idea. "I've never spanked anyone before."

"I can send you some articles! I've read a LOT of them. Besides, I don't think it's that difficult. Just take my jeans and panties down, lay me over your lap, and then whack away – long and hard!"

"Your panties?" he said, his eyebrow disappearing into his red hairline. "You want me to strip you?"

"Only from the waist down! If you're modest, you can put me over your lap BEFORE you take my panties down – or I can take them down myself. But it's not a real spanking if it's not on the bare, is it?" She gave him her best puppy-dog eyes. "Please, Nash? There is nothing in the world I want more, and I've been dreaming about it for most of my life. I can't enter my thirties while remaining entirely unspanked!"

He thought about it. It was definitely weird, but if that's what his best friend wanted, she could have it. Besides, it wouldn't be uncomfortable for HIM. "As you wish," he said.

She grinned. "Thank you, Nash! You're the best!"

The scratched car (M/F story)

Late one afternoon, Alyx was driving to her parents' home to take in the mail while they were on vacation with her younger sister. Their car was parked at the front of the driveway, so rather than try to inch past it or park out on the street, she decided to borrow their neighbour's driveway instead. She was only going to be there for a minute, so it would probably have been fine, if she'd paid attention to the car already parked there – which she didn't, until she heard a scraping sound that immediately told her something was wrong. She hurried out of the car and began to examine the damage. Her own beat-up Mazda seemed fine, but the other car it had an ugly scratch on it. Scratching the paint on her parents' car would have been annoying, but doing it to their neighbour's nice-looking BMW meant she had a rather uncomfortable and expensive conversation in her future.

Taking a deep breath, she decided that the best thing to do under the circumstances would be to deal with it immediately – knock on the door, apologize profusely, and offer to pay for the damages, though the latter would obviously sting on the young waitress' low salary. With a feeling of impending doom, she approached the lavish home of Mr Harrington and rang the doorbell.

The door was opened by a heavily built man of middle height with a bald head and a thick neck. To Alyx, Mr Harrington had always looked like a man destined to be a wrestler, so it had come as a surprise to learn that he was actually a lawyer. She did her best to look very sorry for what she'd done – which was quite easy, as she felt terrible. "Mr Harrington? I'm Alyx, the Quinn's daughter? I'm afraid I've scratched your car while borrowing your driveway."

The man frowned, managing to make himself look even scarier than he did before. "You did, did you? Your father mentioned that you had just gotten your licence last week. You need to be more careful, young lady."

Alyx realized that the man had mistaken her for her younger sister and was about to correct him, but she stopped herself. What would be more embarrassing – to leave him thinking that she was some irresponsible teenager still learning to drive, or to have him realize that she'd had a licence for almost a decade and still messed up?

Making a decision, she did her best to look like a sorry young girl, bowing her head mournfully and fluttering her eyelashes as if holding back tears. "Yes, sir. I'll be more careful in the future, sir. I promise!"

He sighed. "Let's look at the damage," he said as he put on a coat.

They walked down the driveway, where he spent a few minutes looking at the car and tutting, while occasionally glancing with an expression of disapproval at the young lady standing at his side. "This isn't going to be cheap, you know. I'll have to talk to your father once I get the bill. Though why you didn't park in THEIR driveway…."

"I can assure you that you'll have the money, sir," Alyx said meekly. Though she wasn't sure exactly how yet. Would her parents lend her the money if she didn't tell them what she needed it for? Did she have enough in her emergency fund? Or would she have to admit what she'd done?

"I expect they'll barely punish you for being careless and inconsiderate and costing them all that money, as well? Soft-touch parents of today… You'll be grounded for a week, I suppose?"

Despite her nervousness, the thought made Alyx chuckle. Grounded at her age? Would her parents expect her to go straight home to her flat after work? Would they come by to check that she wasn't spending time on her phone? "Hah! Not likely," she muttered. It was only when she saw the expression on his face that she remembered that she was supposed to act like a teenager. "Sorry, sir. Yes, I'll probably be grounded sir."

He narrowed his eyes. "You know, I don't think I like your frivolity. Sounds like you're not being punished enough." He folded his arms in front of his chest. "In my opinion, a girl that damages another man's property and then laughs about it should be taken over the lap and given a good, sound spanking. And I think I'll suggest that to your father the next time I see him."

Alyx bit her lip. Once Mr Harrington talked to her parents, matters would become much worse than they already were. Mr Harrington would find out she'd lied to him, and her parents would learn that she'd tried to place the blame on her younger sister. "Mr Harrington, do you have to talk to my father? I should not have borrowed your driveway, and I certainly shouldn't have giggled, and I apologize for that. But I'm very sorry for what I've done, and I have some money saved up, so I can pay for the paint job myself. Couldn't we solve this between us?"

Mr Harrington gave Alyx a stern gaze that made her squirm as he pondered her words. "How about this, then," he said at last. "I won't talk to your father, and I'll pay for the scratch – we both know that I can afford it far better than you can, young lady."

So far, the deal sounded very good to Alyx, but she held her breath. She had a strange feeling that she wouldn't like what came next.

"But before that, we're going to head back up to my house. We are going to go inside and head to the kitchen, where I will place you over my knee and give you the long, hard spanking you clearly need."

Zoe goes to sleep (M/F story)

Part of the Zoe & Thomas series.

"Thomas? Thomas? Wake up!"

Thomas sat up in bed, trying to clear the fog of sleep from his head. His girlfriend Zoe was shaking his shoulder, staring at him. "What? What is it?" he asked, yawning. "What's wrong?"

"You know the movie we watched last week – the one with the brain surgeon martial artist who does rocket science?"

"…Buckaroo Banzai?" he hazarded. He had a strange feeling that this was not, in fact, an emergency.

"Yeah, I think that's it. Is the cowboy the bad guy from the movie with the swords?"

"Hm?" He tried to follow her train of thought. "…Highlander? Yeah, that's Clancy Brown in both of those roles," Thomas replied, mentally congratulating himself for figuring out what in the world she was talking about.

"OK, great! Thanks!" She smiled.

He looked at her, eyebrows raised. "And you absolutely had to know the answer to that question at…" He glanced at the alarm clock. "One in the morning?"

"I was lying awake, and it was really bugging me!"

"And you didn't think of looking it up on your phone?"

She pouted. "You've told me you don't like it when I use my phone in bed!"

For a few seconds, Thomas wondered whether he should explain to her that he liked being woken up in the middle of the night for a stupid trivia question even less, but he concluded that this was a conversation that could wait until morning. "Well, good night, then." He gave her a gentle kiss and laid his head down on the pillow.

He eventually drifted off, but he found himself being shaken awake again. "Thomas? Thomas!"

"What is it now?" he said, glancing at the clock before looking at her. Two AM. It was certainly possible that THIS time, it was something actually important, but somehow, he doubted it.

"Would you still love me if I was a slug?"

Thomas struggled to remain calm. "Zoe, it's the middle of the night and I have work tomorrow."

She glared at him. "That's not an answer!"

He sighed. "Yes, I would."

"Even if I was all slimy and stuff?"

"Yes, even then. I love you with all my heart." Though admittedly, right at this moment, it wasn't easy to remember why. He leaned in and kissed her again. "And now, we're both going to go to sleep, and you're not going to wake me up for any more silly questions. Because if you do, I'm going to put you over my knee and blister your bottom." To emphasize his words, he flipped her over and delivered two hard swats to each of her panty-clad cheeks. She squealed, rubbing her rear with an offended air as she glared at him, but he'd already rolled over and closed his eyes.

The highwaywoman 2 (M/F story)

I had been riding through the countryside for almost a week when I happened upon a small, cozy-looking inn, and I decided to get a small private room. I am almost certain that the innkeeper overcharged me, but I could afford it, and I was grateful for the opportunity to spend the night under a roof.

After bringing my packs up to the room, and discarding my sword and armour, I went to the common room for some food and a few cups of ale. At one of the tables, a tall, red-haired woman was sipping a glass of wine. When she spotted me, her eyes widened and she let out a small gasp. She then immediately turned her eyes away, pretending she hadn't looked at me, and her face was pale.

From her reaction, she knew who I was, but it was clear she did not wish to speak to me. I decided to eat my dinner and pretend to ignore her in return, while I occasionally glanced subtly at her to figure out how she knew me and whether I had offended her in some way. Her dress looked far too expensive for a peasant, but not expensive enough for a noblewoman, nor would I expect one of the nobles to slum in this inn with us commoners. Was she a merchant, maybe, or a merchant's wife? I searched my memory, but I could not remember seeing her before. Maybe I would recognize her if I heard her voice, but I could not think of a way to achieve that without approaching her, and I did not want to be rude.

Having eaten, I ordered another ale and rested a bit before the fire before heading to my room. The woman was still at her table, and while she did not lift her head as I left the room, I could almost feel her eyes on me.

I had been reading for a bit by candlelight and was pondering whether I should go to bed early or take a small walk, when the door suddenly opened. A tall, red-headed woman wearing a long-coat and breeches, with a cloth covering the lower half of her face, entered the room. My eyes widened as I recognized the highwaywoman who had tried to rob me a month before.

"It's you. It's really you," she whispered, staring at me as if expecting me to disappear in a puff of smoke. "I've found you at last." She took a step forward, closing the door behind her.

I swore under my breath; my packs were at the other end of the room, so once again, the woman was standing between me and my sword. At least I was wearing clothes this time, but I still didn't have my armour. Rising to my feet, I slipped my hand subtly into my pocket and found a pen knife. Not much against an armed opponent, but if I charged and caught her by surprise…

" You have no idea how hard I've tried to find you," she said, still in that quiet whisper, as she walked towards me. "I cannot stop thinking about what you did to me."

I tensed my muscles, ready to leap at her, when I suddenly realized that her scabbard was empty, and so were her hands. I frowned. What sort of highwaywoman leaves her sword behind while seeking her vengeance on a man she hates? We already knew she couldn't take me in unarmed combat.

I stood unmoving, muscles still tense, as she slowly approached me. "No one has ever taken charge of me like that. The way you disarmed me, then dragged me over your lap…" She blushed. "Lying over your naked thighs, feeling your… manhood… poking me in the stomach…"

I said nothing, but my hand was still closed around the pen knife, just in case this was some bizarre bluff to get me to lower my guard.

"I cannot decide whether I want you to take me over your knee or to your bed," she whispered. "Do as you prefer, Sir Knight." She briefly met my eyes, before glancing shyly at the floor. "Please?"

The highwaywoman (M/F story)

It was a warm spring day, and I was travelling through a forest on my way to visit a merchant I'd traded with some times before. I kept my sword at my side in case I ran into animals or bandits, but I'd heard no stories of wolf attacks or holdups in these parts for many years, so I was quite relaxed, not scanning every shadow.

About midday, I reached a quiet forest lake. I was growing quite hot in my armour, so I decided to strip off and dive in. I swam around for a bit, enjoying the feeling of the cool water against my skin and the warmth of the sun on my back, when I suddenly heard trilling laughter. "What's this? A knight caught off guard?"

I spun around and saw a tall woman in a long-coat and breeches, with a hat on her head and a cloth covering the lower half of her face. She was standing near the shore, close to the spot where I'd left my packs and clothes. In her hand was a longsword, and she held it like someone who knew how to use it. From her dress and manner, I suspected she was a highwaywoman.

"What do you want?" I said, swimming closer to her until I could stand on the lake bottom. I could have explained that I was no knight, merely an officer of the guards, but this seemed a poor moment for idle chatter.

"Those bags look heavy. I suspect that there are more than a few coins there, and I have decided to lighten your load – out of the goodness of my heart, of course. If you try to stop me, I will cut you down." There was a sparkle in her eye that suggested she was grinning, but the cloth made it hard to be sure. "And you presently appear to be ill-clad for combat."

I cursed; she was right to conclude that I had no desire to enter combat against an armed opponent while I was naked, but I also couldn't let her rob me. Since combat appeared to be inadvisable, I decided to try diplomacy. "Can't we talk about this?" I said, walking towards her with my arms raised. "I'm sure there is some way to –"

The highwaywoman had begun to search my packs, but she turned her head when I spoke. Suddenly, her eyes widened. "S-stop," she said, her voice strangely nervous. "D-don't come any closer!" She held her sword threateningly in my direction, but to my surprise, I could see her hand tremble.

Wondering what in the world was going on, I studied what little I could see of her face, and I had the impression that there was a blush in her cheeks – though it was hard to tell, particularly at this distance. I was standing roughly waist-high in the water, and I suddenly realized that it wasn't my face she was looking at. Her eyes were rather lower than that.

This seemed surreal. From her initial bravado, I had judged her to be an experienced highwaywoman, but it seemed the sight of a naked man made her squirm. Maybe she was less experienced in other areas than robbery.

My hands still raised, I walked rapidly towards her. As soon as my loins emerged from the water, the woman's eyes widened, and she turned her gaze away bashfully, clearly embarrassed.

By the time she finally remembered that it was unwise to take your eyes away from the person you are robbing while they are moving towards you, I had grabbed the wrist of her sword arm. She tried to struggle free, but I proved to be stronger and managed to disarm her. I threw the sword away, and she shrank before me. She was clearly a threat if she was armed and I was not, and it is possible she could have defeated me if we both had a sword, but with neither of us armed, there was no contest, and it was clear she knew it. I was naked, but while she was clothed, she was not wearing armour either.

She gave me a defiant glare. "I have no intention of ending up at the end of a rope, Sir Knight. You must kill me now, for you will never bring me in alive." She did her best to sound brave, but her eyes revealed how scared she was, and her voice was trembling even more than before.

"I do not kill unarmed women," I told her, "And I have no intention of dragging you through the forest until we find a town. Instead, I have another punishment in mind." Her eyes widened, and she probably wondered what I meant. Instead of telling her, I decided it was time to show her.

Still holding on to her wrist, I suddenly sat down on a fallen log and dragged her over my lap. She fell forward, landing on my naked thighs with a gasp. Before she could react, I had pulled her breeches and underwear down to her knees, landing the first of many smacks to her bare bottom.

Angie 3: The truth (M/F story)

Third and final part to the little series. Sorry it's a week late.

Three months had passed since Angie moved into my flat, which meant it was also two months since the day I took her over my knee and spanked her butt for her attitude and her refusal to clean up after herself. She was still living there, telling me that it was impossible to find an available flat within her price range, which I could easily believe.

Angie was the younger sister of my college buddy Dylan, and an attractive young lady. Earlier in the year, she'd spent a night in my guest bedroom so that she could attend an early college interview nearby, and she had ended up asking me for a spanking because she couldn't fall asleep. Surprised by the request, I had eventually agreed. A few months later, she'd moved in with me when she found mold in her new flat. Her deficiencies as a flatmate were soon apparent, and her brother suggested that I should deal with her immaturity the same way he had: a good, hard spanking with her shorts down every time she mouthed off or made a mess. In the end, I'd taken his advice.

Two months later, I could tell that the idea worked – partially. After a spanking, Angie would behave for several days, cleaning up after herself and dropping the eyerolls and sarcasm. However, after about a week, her attitude would return, and she would quickly earn herself another spanking on the seat of her panties. She'd stopped trying to argue when I told her that she needed an attitude adjustment, bending obediently over my knee without me having to drag her, but she still couldn't behave for more than about a week.

One morning, I found her sitting on the sofa in her pyjamas, watching TV. I frowned. "Angie, didn't I tell you to hang up the laundry before you went to bed last night? And you promised you'd do it?"

She bit her lip, glancing aside. "I forgot. I'll go do it once this show is over, I promise!"

I folded my arms in front of my chest. "I had to re-run the load. You'll hang it up when it's done, but before that, you're getting another reminder to keep your promises. It would be one thing if this happened once, but this is the third time in a row!"

She rose to her feet, staring at the floor, and I took her place on the couch. She stood before me, and my hands moved to the front of her pyjamas. I undid the knot, slowly pulling her pyjama bottoms down to her knees – before suddenly noticing that she wasn't wearing anything underneath.

"Go put on some panties, Angie," I commanded, averting my eyes. I'd spanked her in a thong several times, but I'd never taken her panties down. Partly to protect her modesty, and partly because her brother had asked me not to, and I saw no reason to refuse his request.

"Why?" she asked, a pout on her lips. I stared at her. "Why do I have to put panties on?"

"That’s… I can't… It's not –" I babbled. For once, I found myself speechless. I had not expected that question.

"Can't you spank me on the bare bottom for once?" She fidgeted with a strand of her hair.

I was once again forced to reevaluate some of the things I thought I knew. "Angie," I said slowly, staring at her. "Do you LIKE being spanked?"

Angie 2: Cleaning up (M/F story)

 "Angie," I said, doing my utmost to keep my voice calm. "Remember what I said about cleaning up after yourself in the kitchen?"

"I'll get to it later," she said dismissively.

Angie was the younger sister of my good friend Dylan. A few months before, she had spent a night in my guest bedroom so that she wouldn't have to get a hotel room for a college interview. Her interview had been successful, and she'd decided to find a small job here to give her some spending money during her studies.

One day, she called me and said that the flat that she'd found had mold and was unsafe, so she asked if she could stay with me for a bit until she found a new one. I'd agreed, since she'd been a perfect guest and I'd enjoyed our chats – not to mention that she was quite cute, with a beautiful rear end that was enhanced by the short shorts she chose during the day and the tight pyjamas she wore at night.

Unfortunately, she'd turned out to be far less considerate as a flatmate than as an overnight guest. She was messy, rarely cleaned up after herself, and played loud music, and when I tried to bring it up, she sassed me.

"That's what you said yesterday," I reminded her.

"And I'll get to it! Eventually," she told me, returning her gaze to her phone. It was like she was TRYING to annoy me!

Feeling my blood pressure rising, I decided to go for a walk to calm down. I had only gone a few minutes when my phone rang. "Hi, Wayne. How's it going?"

"Hello, Dylan," I replied, sighing. "No change, unfortunately. That sister of yours is a mess! I don't know how you lived with her for so long."

"Of course you do!" he chuckled. "If she made a mess or gave me attitude, I put her over my lap and tanned her little backside. We talked about this, remember?"

"Yes, well, I can't do that, can I?" I responded drily.

He was quiet for a few seconds. "Wayne, have you been dropped on your head recently? Of course you can! You DID, remember? Quite effectively, too, as far as I understand it, though I obviously wasn't there."

"Yes, I spanked her to help her sleep – because she asked me to," I replied. "I can't spank her just to get her to behave."

"Why not?" he asked. I tried to think of an answer. "Just tell her that she can either clean up after herself, take the spanking, or move out."

"You're a fount of wisdom, Dylan," I replied. "Talk to you later."

Deciding to act immediately, I turned and headed back. To tell the truth, the reason I'd been hesitant to punish Angie was that I'd enjoyed taking her over my lap a little too much. Her beautiful bottom had felt wonderfully soft, and I'd loved seeing it bounce under my palm as she squealed. Punishments should be about improving her behaviour, not for my enjoyment.

However, as I glanced at the mess that had been my kitchen, I decided that I would DEFINITELY enjoy this.

I walked up to Angie, grabbing the phone from her hand. "Hey!" she cried out indignantly, glaring up at me. "Give it back!"

"You'll get it back once the kitchen is spotless. And you're going to start cleaning right now," I said, using my sternest tone.

She rose to her full height, glaring at me. Since she was more than a foot shorter than me and about half the weight, it wasn't particularly intimidating. "Or what?" she spat.

"Or I'm going to take you over my knee and spank you," I replied calmly.

Angie 1: Falling asleep (M/F story)

"Hello, you must be Wayne," the short, young brunette standing on my doorstep said as she held out her hand. "I'm Angie." She was wearing cutoff jeans and an old t-shirt.

"Nice to meet you." I shook her hand and stepped aside to let her enter. "Need a hand with that backpack?"

"Nah, but thanks for the offer," she said. "I'm travelling lightly. I'm only spending one night here, remember?"

Angie was the younger sister of Dylan, a good friend I had met in college a few years before. A week ago, he'd called me and asked if his sister could borrow my guest bedroom for a night, which I of course agreed to. She had a college interview here tomorrow morning, but it was too early for the trains, she didn't have a licence, and she didn't want to spend money on a hotel room if she could avoid it. He'd told her that he had a reliable buddy with a clean guest bedroom, and she'd thought it was an excellent idea.

I showed her where she would be spending the night. Neither of us had eaten dinner, so I ordered a pizza, and we ate it on the couch, watching TV and chatting for a while. Angie looked nervous, but it seemed like that was worry about her interview and not something I'd done. Eventually, she bid me goodnight and went to bed. I didn't have to get up early, so I decided to watch a movie, though I obviously turned the sound down so that I wouldn't disturb her.

The movie was almost over when I suddenly heard a door creaking and noticed that she was peeking out at me. When she realized that I was looking back at her, she slammed the door shut. A few minutes passed, and I heard the door open again. This time, I kept my eyes on the screen. Soon the door creaked shut. This repeated itself a few times, before she finally opened the door and came towards me. "Wayne?"

I looked up. Her long hair, which had been tied up, now cascaded down her shoulders, and she was wearing a pair of pyjamas that hugged her curves very nicely. "What is it?" I asked, managing to look her in the eyes.

"I… I can't sleep," she told me. "Too worried about tomorrow."

"I'm sorry to hear that," I responded. "Anything I can do to help?" I considered offering to warm some milk or something, but I didn't want her to think I was treating her as a child – though admittedly, she was technically still a teenager.

She bit her lip, fidgeting. "You know I live with my brother, right?" I nodded; I'd been aware of that fact. "Did… did you know that he punishes me?"

"… The subject has never come up," I replied, wondering where this was going.

"He… whenever he's disappointed in me, he puts me over his knee and spanks me." Her face was now bright red and she glanced aside, no longer able to look me in the eye. My eyes widened; I had a hard time imagining this woman being disciplined like that, especially by the laid-back guy I went to college with. These things didn't happen, did they? I was also wondering why in the world she was telling me about it. Most girls would probably have died rather than tell some guy she'd just met that she was spanked like a child by her brother.

I said nothing, and eventually, she continued. "It's awful, it's humiliating, it's painful… but it's also… " She swallowed a lump in her throat. "It makes me feel safe. Particularly when he hugs me afterwards and tells me I'm forgiven. I also sleep like a rock afterwards. Being spanked makes you really, really tired." She stared at her feet. "A few times, when I can't fall asleep, I've even ASKED him to spank me. It's stupid, but it really works." She took a deep breath, and I could see her tremble slightly. "But… well… he's not here…"

The champion and the cleric 2: Diplomacy (M/F story)

Nathaniel tried his hardest to keep his face neutral and resist the urge to sigh. Being the prophesized Chosen One and champion of the Valley of Mirth had many advantages over his former life as a poor farmer, but there were downsides as well. Today, he was meeting with Bartholomew Blackstone, leader of the Merchant's Guild. They were hoping to forge an alliance against the Baron, but the man had a mercenary nature and an unpleasant disposition. Laenarisa was there to help, but unfortunately, she wasn't being particularly helpful today.

"I don't believe you realize that people are dying," she snapped at the smirking merchant.

Blackstone shrugged. "That is unfortunate, but it's their own fault for not securing supplies before launching their uprising. You cannot expect the members of my organization to make a hasty decision just because some peasants were impatient."

"Mister Blackheart, you cannot –"

His smile disappeared, and he scowled. "It's BlackSTONE, little cleric. Mister BlackSTONE. It's not the first time you've made that mistake, and I'm starting to suspect it is intentional. I suggest you watch your words more carefully, or this interview could have some unpleasant consequences."

Deciding that he needed to act before Laenarisa could dig the hole deeper, Nathaniel took a step forward. "We are very sorry for the mistake, Mister Blackstone. Believe me when I say that it was entirely unintentional, and we meant no disrespect, I assure you." He made a small bow, then placed his arm around Laenarisa's shoulders. "Now, I need to have a little discussion with my companion, so if you will excuse us for a few minutes? Thank you." He turned around, steering Laenarisa towards the stairs.

"Let go of me!" she hissed.

"We are going to find a quiet, isolated spot for a little talk," he told her, still holding her firmly and moving rapidly.

She tried to wriggle free, but it turned out that a farmer used to handling spades and axes was a little stronger than a cleric that rarely lifted anything heavier than a book or a quill. "I don't think this is –"

"I didn't ask you what you thought, I told you what was going to happen," he said quietly, his tone making it clear that his decision was final.

Soon, they were in a remote storeroom. He made sure the door was locked and that no one could interrupt them before he turned to her. "Are you proud of your behaviour so far?" he asked her sternly.

She folded her arms in front of her chest, huffing. "That man is a greedy, heartless exploiter!"

"Of course he is – he's the leader of the Merchant's Guild. It's not a position often filled by philanthropists. However, we could really use his help, so you are going to lose the attitude and start being nice to him."

"I don't have an attitude!" she snapped, glaring.

Nathaniel sighed. "Is that so? I shouldn't be surprised. Do you need a spanking right now, or can it wait until we get back to our room?"

She gaped. "A spanking? Here!? Now?" She glanced around at the stuffy storeroom. "You wouldn't dare!"

The champion and the cleric (M/F story)

Nathaniel still found it hard to grasp just how much his life had changed. A few months ago, he'd been a young farmer trying to eke out a living on the outskirts of civilization. Now, he was being hailed as a champion, and many believed he was the Chosen One that would free the Valley of Mirth from the clutches of the evil Baron.

For the last month or so, he had been travelling in the company of Laenarisa, a Cleric who had offered to be his guide and advisor. The young woman had the services of the Temple at her disposal and was a well-read scholar, but she was quiet and rarely spoke. They'd just had an unpleasant encounter with some bandits, and while Nathaniel had managed to overcome them, she'd suggested that they should lay low in a small village for a few weeks and rest.

When they found a suitable village, Laenarisa decided to buy supplies and see if she could find some better maps of the area, and asked Nathaniel to hire rooms at the inn for them. He was now sitting in the inn's common room, sipping a mug of ale while he waited for her to return.

"Excuse me? You're new here, aren't you? I'd remember seeing you before," a sweet voice said. He glanced up to see a slim, attractive girl with blonde hair, wearing a simple cotton dress. She smiled. "Do you mind if I sit down?"

He smiled back at her. "I would be delighted if you did. Can I get you a drink? I'm Nathaniel."

"Thank you. I'm Thea."

She sat down next to him, and they started chatting. Nathaniel gave her his most roguish grin as she giggled at one of his lamer jokes; the day was turning out to be quite delightful, and it was a long time since he'd enjoyed himself so much.

"I've procured the maps, Nathaniel. Are you busy?" a voice said tersely. He looked up to see Laenarisa standing nearby, her eyes cold as she looked at him.

"Hello, Lenna" he said, smiling up at her. "Was there anything else worth seeing in the village? Thea, this is Laenarisa, a Cleric who travels with me. Laenarisa, this is –"

"Yes, well, I'm sure the young lady has some livestock she should be looking after, so we shouldn't detain her any longer," Laenarisa commented frostily. "Good day, Thea."

Casting a glance at Nathaniel, Thea rose and hurriedly left the table. Nathaniel studied Laenarisa as she sat down. "What's wrong with you today, Lenna? You didn't have to be rude."

"You are a very important person, Nathaniel. You cannot waste time on frivolities, or chatting to every peasant who walks past," she replied in a voice suddenly devoid of emotion. She waved a hand at the barmaid to order a drink.

"I thought we were here to relax and enjoy ourselves?" he said sceptically. "Doesn't sound like we're going to be busy, and I can think of few ways of spending my time that are more enjoyable than flirting with a cute girl."

She scowled at him. "Cute? Her? You really think so? No, Champion. A man like you deserves…" She glanced away, staring at the wall. "Someone better." She tried to hide it, but it was clear she was hurt.

As Nathaniel looked at her, a lot of things suddenly began to make sense to him. He could have kicked himself. "I'm so sorry, Lenna. I never realized how you felt. Believe me, I would not have flirted with her if I had known. I didn't mean to hurt you, and I'm sorry." He knew that she was intelligent, kind, and attractive, but her stiffness and reserved nature had previously prevented him from viewing her as a romantic potential.

Laenarisa blushed, glaring at him. "Don't be absurd, Nathaniel! I'm a pure, virtuous Cleric," she scoffed. "I do not have those kinds of emotions. I'm only travelling with you for the benefit of all mankind."

He grinned; there was something about the look on her face that suggested that, despite her words, he'd struck closer to the mark than she was comfortable with. He inched closer to her. She didn't shy away from him, but her face grew even redder, and the hand that held her cup was trembling slightly. "You're cute when you blush. Has anyone ever told you that?"

"I am neither blushing nor cute," she insisted. She glared at him, her face now almost scarlet.

He tutted. "That's a lie. A Cleric shouldn't lie, should she? How naughty. Maybe I should spank you." 

Abigail's adventures 4: Nilima's introduction (M/FF story)

"Welcome back, Abigail," Isaac said to the young redhead with the hour-glass figure. "It's good to see you again." As the two students entered the house of the tall, bald, muscular, middle-aged man, he glanced over at the other girl, who was a petite Indian woman with large, adorable eyes. "And this is the flatmate you told me about?"

Abigail waved her hand towards her friend. "Isaac, this is Nilima. She's been a bad girl and needs a good, hard spanking on her bare bottom."

Nilima let out a small squeak, cast her friend a panicked look, and suddenly looked very shy; the description was certainly embarrassing – but not inaccurate.

"I see," Isaac said. He studied Nilima for a few seconds, before turning his gaze upon Abigail. "And is she the only young lady present who fits that description?"

Abigail blushed, fidgeting. Isaac always knew how to make her squirm. "You should deal with HER first."

Isaac chuckled, before turning to the other girl. "So, Nilima, have you ever been spanked before?"

It was Abigail who answered. "I've given her some swats with a wooden spoon, and a hand-spanking over my lap, but I stopped once she started to cry. Some smacks in the shower, a few whacks with my hairbrush over her dress when she was being more cheeky than usual… That's all her experience."

Nilima looked more and more embarrassed at being discussed like this. "Miss Abigail is correct," she mumbled, not quite daring to meet Isaac's gaze.

"MISS Abigail?" He grinned as he looked at Abigail. "You've had quite the little adventure, haven't you? Now, Nilima, I'm going to start off fairly gently and then gradually spank you harder and faster. Does that sound good to you?"

Nilima nodded, still staring at the floor, but Abigail pouted. "That's not how you spanked ME," she complained.

Isaac raised an eyebrow. "Abigail, the first time I spanked you, I'd hired you to work in my garden, and you were often late and never listened to my instructions. That spanking was meant as punishment. It was only when I saw the wet patch on your panties that I realized how much you'd enjoyed it."

Abigail squealed, placing her hands over her flatmate's ears. "Isaac!" she scolded. " Nilima doesn't need to hear this!"