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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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 (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?"

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!"

Framing her friend (F/ff story)

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Zoe's Valentine's Day (M/F story)

The fourth and last part of Abigail's adventures will be uploaded next week, but I wanted this uploaded before Valentine's Day. Another entry in the Zoe & Thomas series.

Zoe smiled blissfully as she curled up under the blanket on the couch. It was Friday, she didn't have any college classes today, and best of all, it was Valentine's Day! She wondered what Thomas was planning to do once he came home from work. Would he cook something lovely? Had he ordered a table at a nice restaurant? What sort of present had he bought? He knew how important the day was for her, and he always knew how to make her feel special.

Her phone rang. Seeing that it was her boyfriend, she eagerly picked it up. "Hello, darling!"

"Hi, Zoe. I've just been told that there will be a mandatory meeting at the end of the day, so I'll be about half an hour late. Thought I'd let you know. You have the day off, right? Were you planning to make dinner, or should I pick up a pizza on the way?"

Zoe's eyes widened. He expected her to cook on Valentine's Day? That was HIS job! And pizza? He couldn't even pick up something fancy? "I… I wasn't…" She was too stunned to speak.

"Oh, and I think I mentioned to you that I'm playing Fifa with Steve later today? Hope you didn't have any plans?"

Zoe couldn't believe her ears. He was going to play games with one of his buddies on Valentine's Day? After bringing home a cardboard pizza? She frowned. This would not go unpunished. "No plans, no," she said quietly.

"Are you OK?" he said, a hint of concern in his voice. "You seem upset. Is something wrong?"

"No, nothing's wrong. I'll have dinner ready when you come home," she promised, trying to sound cheerful.

"I'll see you soon. Love you, babe."

"See you later," she said, hanging up. She headed into the kitchen to prepare the first part of her surprise.


A few hours later, Zoe was lying on the bed with a glass of wine, still wearing her sweatpants and an old t-shirt. She'd originally planned to dress up before he came home, but their conversation had changed her mind. She heard Thomas enter the house and call out her name, but she didn't respond, and he started looking for her. By now, he would probably have noticed that the house didn't smell like dinner – Zoe had already eaten some pasta. She had no intention of cooking anything for him.

Thomas let out a shocked exclamation when he entered the living room. A few minutes later, he found her lounging on the bed. "Hello, Zoe," he said, his voice strangely calm. She didn't respond. "Would you care to explain why my PlayStation is full of porridge?"

"THAT is what happens when you ignore me on such a special day and make plans to play games with your friends instead," she huffed, glaring at him. "And pizza? Instead of a nice restaurant? Do you really think that's an appropriate Valentine's Day dinner?" She folded her arms in front of her chest. "I bet you don't even have a gift for me, do you?"

Thomas stared at her for several seconds, speechless. Finally, he sighed. "Zoe, Valentine's Day is tomorrow."

Consequences of shoplifting (M/fF story)

The finished story.

 

I was out for a long evening walk, enjoying the cool air after a hot summer day, when I walked past a small corner store and heard raised voices and a woman who sounded close to tears. Curiosity overcame me, and I went inside to see what was going on.

The teenaged girl standing in the centre of the room stared at me when I entered. "Eric!" she shouted in relief. She rushed towards me and threw her arms around my neck, tears in her eyes.

"Breanna? What's wrong?" I said. Breanna was a slim girl of 18 with long, blonde hair and large, blue eyes.

A tall, balding, middle-aged man approached me, with a stout red-headed woman of about the same age following two steps behind him. "You know this girl?" he asked me.

"Yes, I'm a friend of Breanna," I replied. It would be more correct to say she was my younger sister's best friend, but I figured they weren't too interested in the details. I glanced down at Breanna, but she'd buried her face in my shirt, sniffling. "What's wrong?" I said to the couple.

"The little missy was shoplifting!" the woman responded. "She took two bottles of wine and hid them in her backpack when she thought we weren't looking – and dropped one of them when we caught her."

I glanced down at the whimpering girl. "Breanna, is this true?" She didn't answer at first, so I gently rubbed her back and repeated the question. She nodded, giving me a tearful gaze.

"I was at the pub with the girls, and when I left, I wanted a couple of bottles to take home." Her lower lip trembled. "I didn't have enough money, so I thought…"

"You thought you'd steal them instead." I shook my head. "I expected better of you, Breanna:" I guess my tone was slightly harsher than I intended, for the tears immediately started flowing again, and she buried her face in my shirt again and sobbed.

"Hello! What's going on here, then?" A police officer entered the store. She was a dark-haired athletic woman who appeared to be in her late thirties, and introduced herself as Officer Kaye. The couple, who turned out to be the store owner and his wife, Mr and Mrs Brockham, explained the situation, while I continued to comfort the slightly intoxicated teenager.

The police officer placed a gentle, but firm, hand on Breanna's shoulder. "Right. Come with me, young lady," she said. When Breanna didn't respond, the officer tried to disentangle the teen's arms from around my neck, but it proved to be more difficult than we supposed. She held on for dear life, clinging to me like a babe to her mother.

"Please, Eric! Isn't there anything you can do?" Breanna whimpered. I knew how scared she was of getting into trouble, but while I was flattered at her belief in my abilities, I didn't see what could be done.

"Shame about seeing a young girl like that in court," the man grumbled. "Back in my day, a young lady who stole would have her butt spanked instead. Teach her not to steal again."

"I think I'd have preferred that," Breanna mumbled in my ear.

A solution to our little problem had suddenly presented itself to me. I looked at the man. "If I give Breanna a good spanking, do you agree not to press charges?"

Breanna gasped, staring up at me, but didn't release her grip. For a few seconds, no one spoke. The man raised an eyebrow, considering the suggestion. "Hm. If I thought that she'd been sufficiently punished… but I think I'd prefer to spank the little miss myself."

"No!" Breanna squealed. "Not you! I trust Eric!"

Sylvia, part III: Violet's punishment (M/F story)

Sequel to Sylvia, part 1 and Sylvia, part 2. I usually only upload one story per week, but I'd decided to upload this before the end of the year - and that's still a few hours away.

 

 Sylvia, my ex-girlfriend’s mother, now visited my flat quite frequently. Sometimes, it was so that I could take her over my knee and give her the good, hard spanking she wanted and needed – she had missed being over a stern man's lap. Other times, it was just to visit me and chat. Today, she’d come to complain about her daughter.

“Violet never cleans up after herself!” she sighed. “And when I talk to her about it, she sasses me! Heaven save me from rude, lazy teenagers…”

“Violet’s no longer a teenager,” I pointed out. Violet had been a classmate of mine, and we were the same age.

“Well, she acts like one!” Sylvia snapped, grumbling into her cup of tea.

“Don’t snap at me,” I said calmly, but there was a certain tone in my voice that Sylvia knew quite well by now. She immediately apologized, as she had no desire to look at the carpet while being paddled over my knee, or study the wallpaper while being placed in the corner afterwards – or, at least, she didn’t’ want it right now.

“Violet has never behaved as well as she did when she dated you. You were a good influence on her – probably due to all those spankings you gave her.” She shook her head. “I wish you two were still dating.”

“If we were, you wouldn’t have asked me to spank you,” I pointed out. She’d told me herself that asking her daughter’s boyfriend for bare-bottomed punishments would be crossing a line – while asking her daughter's ex was perfectly fine.

She shrugged. “Well, then I wish you could come over and spank her anyway!” she declared. She stared into her cup for a few seconds, before giving me a thoughtful look.

I raised an eyebrow when I realized what she meant. “Violet’s no longer my girlfriend, so I don’t think it’s my place to discipline her anymore.”

“But it’s still mine. As long as Violet lives under my roof, I have the right to punish her – maybe even the DUTY to do it.” She grinned. “Nothing says I can’t outsource the job.”

The suggestion seemed odd at first, but when I thought about it, I could see her logic. She could certainly punish the misbehaving daughter who was still living with her, and there was nothing wrong with me helping out a woman in need. Besides, seeing Violet’s face when she was told that she would have to go over her ex-boyfriend’s lap for a good, hard spanking would probably be quite enjoyable – almost as much fun as seeing her squeal and beg as I reddened her bottom.

"I'll think about it," I said.

Unfinished story: Consequences of shoplifting (M/f story)

 Like last week, I have a story that's not quite finished yet, but still worth reading. I'll finish it in January.

I was out for a long evening walk, enjoying the cool air after a hot summer day, when I walked past a small corner store and heard raised voices and a woman who sounded close to tears. Curiosity overcame me, and I went inside to see what was going on.

The teenaged girl standing in the centre of the room stared at me. "Eric!" she shouted in relief. She rushed towards me and threw her arms around my neck, tears in her eyes.

"Breanna? What's wrong?" I said. Breanna was a slim girl of 18 with long, blonde hair and large, blue eyes.

A tall, balding, middle-aged man approached me, with a stout, red-headed woman of about the same age following two steps behind him. "You know this girl?" he asked me.

"Yes, I'm a friend of Breanna," I replied. It would be more correct to say she was my younger sister's best friend, but I figured they weren't too interested in the details. I glanced down at Breanna, but she'd buried her face in my shirt, sniffling. "What's wrong?" I said to the man.

"The little missy was shoplifting!" the woman responded. "She took two bottles of wine and hid them in her backpack when she thought we weren't looking – and dropped one of them when we caught her."

I glanced down at the whimpering girl. "Breanna, is this true?" She didn't answer at first, so I gently rubbed her back and repeated the question. She nodded, giving me a tearful gaze.

"I was at the pub with the girls, and when I left, I wanted a couple of bottles to take home." Her lower lip trembled. "I didn't have enough, so I thought…"

"You thought you'd steal them instead." I shook my head. "I expected better of you, Breanna:" I guess my tone was slightly harsher than I intended, for the tears immediately started flowing again, and she buried her face in my shirt again and sobbed.

"Hello! What's going on here, then?" A police officer entered the store. She was a dark-haired athletic woman who appeared to be in her late thirties, and introducing herself as Officer Kaye. The couple, who turned out to be the store owner and his wife, Mr and Mrs Brockham, explained the situation, while I continued to comfort the slightly intoxicated teenager.

The police officer placed a gentle, but firm, hand on Breanna's shoulder. "Right. Come with me, young lady," she said. When Breanna didn't respond, the officer tried to disentangle the teen's arms from around my neck, but it proved to be more difficult than we supposed. She held on for dear life, clinging to me like a babe to her mother.

"Please, Eric! Isn't there anything you can do?" Breanna whimpered. I knew how scared she was of getting into trouble, but while I was flattered at her belief in my abilities, I didn't see what could be done.

"Shame about seeing a young girl like that in court," the man grumbled. "Back in my day, a young lady who stole would have her butt spanked instead. Teach her not to steal again."

"I think I'd have preferred that," Breanna mumbled in my ear.

A solution to our little problem had suddenly presented itself to me. I looked at the man. "If I give Breanna a good spanking, do you agree not to press charges?"

Breanna gasped, staring up at me, but didn't release her grip. For a few seconds, no one spoke. The man raised an eyebrow, considering the proposal. "Hm. If I thought she'd been sufficiently punished… but I think I'd prefer to spank the little miss myself."

"No!" Breanna squealed. "Not you! I trust Eric!"

Sheriff Graham's new secretary (M/F story)

A prequel to Sheriff.

 

"You wanted to see me, sheriff?" Claire said, poking her head into her boss' office.

"Ah. Yes, I need to talk to you. Come in," Graham responded gruffly. He was a tall, dark-haired middle-aged man who had begun to grow slightly wider as he aged, but there was still a hint of steel both in his body and his gaze.

Claire entered, sitting down on the chair in front of the sheriff's desk. Claire was a short, curvy woman with an infectious grin, and she beamed at her employer, who did not return the smile.

He picked up a piece of paper from his desk. "Now, you've been working here for a month now. How do you think it's going?"

"Great! It's a good job," she said, still smiling. "A lot to do, but I manage to stay on top of things."

"Hm. Yes, I must admit that you do good work – when you show up, that is."

Her smile faded a little. "What do you mean?"

"After one month, there's been three days you were NOT late. THREE." He scowled. "You're usually fifteen minutes late, and at least once, it was more than an hour. I know my deputy has talked to you about this, but it doesn't seem to have helped. We need you to be here in the mornings – you can't just show up when you feel like it."

She pouted, fidgeting slightly. "I'll do better, I promise!"

"Yes, you told Steven that as well. I'm afraid that pretty words aren't enough anymore. I could dock your pay…"

"Oh, please don't!" she begged, her eyes widening in panic.

"…Or I can find an alternative solution." The prospect might have seemed promising, but there was something about his stern voice that made a shiver run down her back. "Tell me, what would your father have done if you were late when you were working at the farm?"

"Well, he certainly wouldn't have been happy!" she exclaimed. She did not feel like volunteering any further details.

"But what would he have done?" he pressed. She blushed, reluctant to answer the question, so he answered it for her. "He would have taken those jeans down and paddled your butt, wouldn't he?"

She blushed even more, squirming in her chair. She didn't want to admit the embarrassing truth, but she didn't think lying to her employer would be a good idea either. "Well… I guess that… No, I'm not…"

"Because back when I dated your sister, all those years ago, she always made sure that she was back home before her curfew – and told me what would happen to her if she was late." He raised an eyebrow. "Your father doesn't seem like the type of man who would treat his daughters differently in that regard."

She stared at him – she hadn't known that Jessie had shared that piece of information about their upbringing with her boyfriend. Claire had never admitted it to any of the boys SHE'D dated. She stared at the floor, sighing. "Yes," she admitted in a whisper. "Yes, he'd have paddled me."

"Oh? Now, as I said, I can dock your pay, OR…" He opened a drawer, placing a small, thick paddle on his desk.

The violin teacher (M/F story)

"Let's try this one more time," I said calmly, doing my best to hide my annoyance. Jolie scowled at me, before lifting the violin bow and giving it another go. Sadly, the result was just as unimpressive as the last few attempts. "Did you forget to practice again?" I asked, no longer able to keep my voice level.

The eighteen-year-old blushed, placing her hands on her hips and glaring at me. "Of course I didn't, Elliott! I completed all the exercises you gave me, and –"

I raised an eyebrow, and the look I gave her was enough to make her fold and tell the truth.

"OK, I didn't," she admitted, sighing. "I was going to, but I was just –"

"'Was going to' is not good enough, Jolie," I said sternly. "I give you those exercises for a reason. Not only do you ignore your exercises, but you LIE to me about it?" I folded my arms in front of my chest. "You know what that means, don't you?"

She turned pale, swallowing nervously, and both hands reached back to clasp her bottom protectively. It was clear that she knew what I intended to do. "Please…" she whispered.

"Take down your jeans," I instructed.

"You can't do this," she muttered. "I'm an adult."

I sighed. "You said pretty much the same thing the last time this happened, didn't you? Did it help you then? No? Then what makes you think it will work this time?"

"My parents never spanked me," she sulked.

"When your parents hired me to come to their house and teach you the violin, they agreed that I could use whatever means of discipline I saw fit – and this is the most effective," I reminded her. "Would you like to explain to your parents that you no longer wish to learn the violin, and that my services are no longer required?" She shook her head. "Then I suggest you take your trousers down NOW, before I add extras."

Pouting pitifully, the teenager started to unbutton and unzip her jeans, pulling them down to her knees. I guided her over my lap so that her bottom was raised high in the air and her head faced the floor. I then placed my fingers in the waistband of her white knickers.

"Please, Elliott!" she squealed. "Can't you leave my panties up?"

"Jolie, have I ever spanked you over your panties?" I asked. "No? Can you give me a good reason why I should do it this time?"

"It's embarrassing," she whimpered.

"That's what makes it effective," I told her as I slipped her panties down to join her jeans around her knees. Wasting no more time, I lifted my hand and delivered a series of hard slaps to her pale, quivering buttocks.

Jolie gasped as the first smacks landed, but quickly bit her lip to stop herself from crying out. She always tried to take her spankings bravely – stay perfectly still, no tears, and no crying out. I don't know why she bothered, as she was always reduced to a sobbing, squirming, pleading mess by the time I was done.

I moved my hand from cheek to cheek, covering every inch of her posterior with hard, stinging spanks. She had wasted both my time and hers, and then lied to me about it, and I intended to make her sorry. She was still trying to be stoic, but when I focused my attention on her sit spots, the first squeals escaped her lips, and she began to wriggle. I knew it would not be long before tears fell.

As I punished the young miscreant, I happened to glance up, and was surprised to see someone peeking in through the door crack. I recognized Iris, Jolie's sister – a decade older than her, but with the same long, dark hair and almond eyes. The woman had moved out years ago, but still visited her parents and sisters often, and I had seen her around the house a couple of times.

When Iris realized that she'd been spotted, she blushed beet red and quickly closed the door. I decided that I needed to talk to her about that later – I was fairly sure Jolie didn't want her sister spying on her private punishments. However, right now, I had other matters to deal with, and Jolie still sounded far from contrite.

Forgetting his birthday (M/F story)

Hazel was standing outside her flatmate's bedroom door, trying to summon the courage to enter. Eventually, she took a deep breath, lifted her hand, and managed to knock.

"Come in," a dry, monotonous voice said.

She opened the door to find Giles sitting at his computer. He glanced up, nodding at her before returning his attention to the screen.

"Happy birthday," she said again, wringing her hands. "And… I'm SO sorry for forgetting about it!"

"It's fine," he said, trying to sound like he meant it. "It's not a big deal."

"It IS a big deal," she insisted. "I haven't bought anything, I didn't prepare anything… I had the day off! I could have baked a cake and prepared dinner for when you came home, maybe hung some decorations…"

"You didn't have to do any of that."

"You did it for MY birthday," she pointed out. "It was wonderful coming home to all that. I should have done the same."

"It's fine," he repeated, though he still didn't sound as convincing as he hoped.

"Giles, you're allowed to be upset when people close to you forget your birthday. You don't have to play the stoic act around me."

He shrugged. " We just share a flat. We're not dating or anything like that. We're on friendly terms, but not exactly besties. It's OK." He still stared at the computer screen, and it was clear that he wanted the conversation to be over.

"I don't even have a gift! Remember that necklace you bought for me? How many months in advance did you order that again?" She sighed. "If only I'd seen the notification before the shops closed."

"I told you, it's fine," he snapped, still not looking up from his screen.

"You say that, and I appreciate it, but I can tell you don't mean it," Hazel said. "I just feel so guilty about it." She bit her lip, wondering how to broach the subject that was on her mind. "I think I need to be punished."

He finally glanced up at her, narrowing his eyes. He stared at her for almost a minute before speaking. "Tread carefully," he warned her.

"You should spank me," she added. "Like you spanked Zelia."

Zoe & Thomas: Working from home (M/F story)

 Part of the Zoe & Thomas series.

 

 Thomas sat at the desk in the spare bedroom, a cup of tea at his side as he typed at his work laptop. Behind him, his girlfriend Zoe entered the room, dressed only in one of his old shirts as she stretched sleepily. Her professors had taken the week off for an autumn break, so she didn't have college classes this week.

"Hey, babe," she mumbled as she leaned down for a kiss on the lips. "Let's have breakfast!" She thought for a second. "Though I suppose it'll be lunch in your case, won't it?"

"Hello, sweetie," he responded, beaming up at her. "That sounds great, but lunch is still an hour away, and I have a Teams meeting with my boss soon."

She pouted. "I'm not sure I can wait that long. I'm hungry now!"

"Then have a snack or something, and I'll join you when I can – or you can go ahead and eat, and we'll sit together during lunch. Whatever sounds best to you."

She folded her arms in front of her chest, pouting even more. "I thought the whole point of you being home was that we could spend time together. I don't know why you don't want to be around me."

He sighed, preparing to break it down for her yet again. "Zoe, the office job pays a LOT more than my old job at the gas station, it's more fulfilling, it's safer, and I'm not as tired at the end of the day, which are all good things, right?"

She nodded, still pouting.

"The only problem is the commute, which is longer than I'd prefer – but the boss allows me to work from home most of the time, which is very nice of her." He smiled. "That way, I avoid the commute, and we can spend breaks and lunch together – in fact, you can bring a book or something in here, and we can spend every second together, as long as I actually do my work. The problem is, if I don't complete my tasks, I can't work from home any longer, which would be bad."

Zoe was still pouting. "I wish you could come to lunch with me NOW."

"And so do I – but unfortunately, I still have that meeting." He smiled at her, kissing her again. "You can be patient for one little hour, can't you?"

"I guess," she mumbled. He turned to his laptop again, checking what he needed to prepare for the meeting. Suddenly, he felt her lips at the base of his neck.

"Zoe, it's hard to concentrate when you're kissing my neck," he scolded.

"Really?" she said, grinning as her lips moved to his ear. "Guess you have to take a break, then."

He sighed. "I told you that I have a meeting. You're not being a good girl, Zoe. Do you want me to take you over my knee?"

She shivered. "No," she grumbled.

"Then I suggest you start behaving."

Disciplining her flatmate (F/F story)

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

 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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.

Being sent next door (M/fF story)

"Oh, hello, Christina," Sheldon said cheerfully as he answered the door to find the daughter of his next-door neighbour Brenda standing on his doorstep.

"Hello, Mister Fenwick," the teenager responded, in a despondent tone. She had her hands behind her back, and a look on her face that suggested that she wanted to be a million miles away.

"Now, what can I do for you today?" he said, still in the same sunny tone. Sighing, Christina took out the letter she'd been holding behind her back, offering it to him. He frowned. "I see," he said, his voice now markedly less friendly. "A letter from your mother again? I guess we'd better head inside."

Christina's legs trembled slightly as she followed her big, strong neighbour into his house. She knew what was about to happen to her, and she was not looking forward to it.

A few months ago, Brenda and Sheldon had been chatting at the garden fence. "I don't know what to do about Christina," Brenda had complained. "She's getting sassier and sassier. I had hoped that she'd mature once she turned 18, but she seems more childish than ever. She even called me the B word at breakfast today!"

"Well, if either of my daughters had something like that to me or Skye at that age, they wouldn't sit for a week," Sheldon replied with a frown. Skye was Sheldon's wife, who had sadly passed away a few years before.

Brenda sighed. "Discipline was always my husband's job. He knew how to get her to behave. In the years since he left…" She shook her head. "I don't think I'd feel comfortable spanking her. Could I do as good a job as he did? Besides, as big as she's getting, I'm not sure I'd win that struggle," she said with a rueful grin.

A thoughtful look passed across Sheldon's face. "You know, if you ever need any help, you could always send her over to me. I've raised two daughters who found themselves over my lap whenever they needed it, and I know how to deal with a stroppy young madam."

Brenda considered the proposal. "You know, I think that's a really good idea."

They'd broken the news to Christina later that evening. Her arguments that she was too old, and that it was too cruel, and that it would be humiliating to be spanked by a man who was not related to her, fell on deaf ears, and her claims that she was too well-behaved were treated with the derision they deserved. She finally threw a tantrum, earning her first trip over her neighbour's lap. As Christina squirmed and sobbed over Sheldon's knee, her bare bottom burning bright red as she promised to behave, Brenda grinned. Yes, this arrangement would suit her just fine.

After that, whenever the teenager would get too big for her britches, Brenda jotted down a short description of the transgression, placed it in an envelope, sealed it, and handed it over to her cringing daughter, who was forced to take it next door to face her punishment.

"What did you do this time?" Sheldon asked as he tapped the envelope against the table.

"Why don't you just read mum's note?" Christina replied sourly. "I'm sure she's explained it."

Sheldon raised an eyebrow. "Because I need to make sure that you understand what you did wrong. I suggest a little less of the attitude, missy. My guess is that you're in enough trouble as it is – though I can always add a few extras at the end if you continue to sass me."

Standing in the library (M/F story)

As Abigail gazed in wonder at the gigantic library, she had to pinch herself once again to prove to herself that she wasn't dreaming. It was all real!

Abigail had been dating Wesley for a little over a year, and today was the day she'd been introduced to his parents. She had known for some time that they had quite a lot of money, but she hadn't realized just how rich they were until Wesley's old BMW pulled up in front of the mansion. The building was enormous! And not some decrepit old ruin – it was well-maintained, richly decorated, with a lovely garden. She'd shivered in her cheap charity shop dress, wondering how exactly they'd receive her. Would they think their son was wasting his time dating someone like her?

To her immense relief, his parents had been extremely nice. They'd received her with friendly smiles and made her feel welcome. His mother had complimented her on her hair and nails, and then listened intently as Abigail talked about life at the college, and when she mentioned that she was an avid reader, his father had told her that she was free to borrow some books from their library if she wanted. As many as she wished, in fact.

Wesley and his father were chatting in the lounge over a cup of tea while Abigail went to explore the library. Her eyes widened as she entered the room. It was massive! Shelves upon shelves of books, and several of them were centuries old. She found old classics, personal favourites, rarities, and books she'd never even heard of!

She'd already picked out quite a large stack of novels she intended to take home, when she spotted a copy of "Through the Looking-Glass" high up on a shelf. She stared. It looked so old – it couldn't be an original print, could it? She looked around for the ladder, but couldn't see it. In a room this big, it was easy to get lost. Searching for another solution, she spotted an armless wooden chair, which she immediately placed under the book. However, even standing on it, her petite form was far too short to reach the novel. Stepping down, she glanced over at the large stack of books she'd already picked out, looked back up at her prize, and placed the stack on the seat of the chair. By standing on tiptoes, she just barely managed to reach the volume, tipping it into her hand. "Success!" she exclaimed.

That's when she felt the stack wobble under her feet. To her horror, she could feel it toppling.

As she started to tumble towards the floor, Abigail shrieked. The stack had been high, and she knew that landing headfirst on the hard floor was unlikely to end well. Time seemed to slow down, and she watched the shelves inch past as she fell. At the back of her mind, she wondered whether her boyfriend or his parents would find her first. She gasped as she struck something, then frowned. She'd landed on her side instead of her head, and she hadn't fallen as far as she'd been prepared for; the floor was a lot closer than she'd expected. Softer, too.

"Are you OK?" Wesley's voice was full of worry. Glancing up, she realized that he'd caught her as she fell. Nestled in his arms, she reflected on just how worried she'd been when the stack started to topple, and she buried her face in his chest, a tear rolling down her cheek. "Abigail, are you OK?"

"Thank you," she murmured from the depths of his shirt.

"I came to see how you were doing. I arrived just as the books started to shift - fortunately, I managed to get to you in time. Are you OK?" he repeated again. "Are you hurt?"

She looked up at him. "I'm fine!" she assured him. "You can put me down now."

He lowered her gently until her feet touched the floor, eventually letting go of her. "You're sure you're OK? You're not hurt in any way?" When she nodded, the worry on his face was replaced with a stern frown. "Good. Now, explain yourself, young lady. What in the world made you decide to do something like that?"

She looked at the novel in her hand. "I wanted a closer look at this," she explained.

"We have ladders for that," he said, clearly trying hard to keep his voice calm.

"Yeah, but I couldn't find one."

His frown deepened. "So instead of searching a little bit harder, or asking for help, you decided to risk life and limb by making a large pile of books, placing it on a chair, and standing on it?"

Now that he said it out loud, it suddenly didn't sound like such a good idea after all. Her backside began to tingle, and she had a horrible feeling that she was going to find herself over his knee once they were back at the flat. She managed to resist the urge to rub her rear; if he wasn't already planning to spank her, she certainly didn't want to give him ideas.

The robot assistant 2 (M/F story)

Adeline had invited her coworker Lydia for some after-work drinks one Friday evening. Lydia was her best friend in the workplace, and the pair had often hung out at bars, but it was the first time she would visit Adeline’s home. When Adeline stopped to think about it, she realized she didn’t receive a lot of visitors. She usually preferred going out if she was going to spend time with friends.

"Welcome home, Miss Beckett," Sam said as they entered. He turned and bowed to Lydia. "Welcome, visitor."

Adeline nodded towards the robot. "This is Sam, my assistant. Sam, this is Lydia from work."

"I didn't know you had a robot," Lydia exclaimed. She grinned. "Didn't know they made them tall and handsome, either. Though I suppose that didn't enter your mind when you bought him?" she said teasingly, raising an eyebrow at Adeline.

"Perish the thought," Adeline responded, trying to look innocent.

"Would you like me to prepare some food for the two of you?" Sam asked.

"No thanks, we had some pizza before we left the office. I'd like you to open a bottle of wine, though. Red, please."

"Ah. I am afraid you did not go shopping as you intended this week, so there is no red wine in the house." Sam handled most of the shopping, but robots legally could not buy alcohol or cigarettes, since the risk of children using them to bypass age restrictions was considered too high.

"Oops!" Adeline said, with her hand in front of her mouth. "I completely forgot! We'll have some white wine, then, and I'll remember to buy some tomorrow."

"Yes, you will, young lady – or I will have to take you across my lap and spank you for your forgetfulness," the robot responded, before going to fetch the wine.

Adeline paled. Her legs had turned to jelly, almost making her fall over. At her side, she heard Lydia give a shocked gasp. It took several long seconds before she dared to look over at her friend, and when she did, Lydia stared back at her, her eyebrows raised so high they disappeared into her hair.

In all the weeks she'd taught Sam how to be her stern disciplinarian, she'd completely forgotten to tell him that her punishments should be private. He'd just threatened to give her a spanking in front of her coworker. She wanted to sink through the floor and disappear completely.

"It's a joke!" she hurriedly exclaimed. "I accidentally left the TV on during some I Love Lucy reruns – it’s this show from the fifties – and ever since, Sam makes strange comments like that. I've been trying to get him to stop, but once the AI gets an idea into its head …"

"Huh," Lydia said, eyebrows still raised. Adeline had a horrible feeling that her coworker didn't believe her. "Didn't know they still broadcasts a show that old. Which channel was that?"

"I don't remember," Adeline mumbled. "One of those oldies channels."

Sam returned with a bottle of wine and two glasses, and Adeline took a large sip, trying to calm her nerves. Hopefully, Lydia would forget about the embarrassing little exchange. The last thing she wanted was for word about this to spread at the workplace.

The two women sat down on the sofa, chatting away. They had soon emptied the first bottle, so Sam brought another, as well as some snacks. They were deep in conversation when Sam suddenly appeared next to his owner. "Miss Beckett? I just found this while tidying in your office. Would you care to explain it?"

Adeline glanced up. The robot was holding a letter she'd opened the previous day – she'd forgotten to sign some papers, and had incurred a 25-pound penalty for lateness. "It's my bank," she explained. "You remember those papers I had to sign and mail back in?" She shrugged. "I didn't."

Sam frowned. "Even though I reminded you that it was due? More than once?"

At this point, she probably should have tried to tell him that she had a guest and that they would discuss it later, but she was more than a little tipsy, and there was something about his stern tone that made it so easy to slip into her submissive state of mind. "I'm sorry, Sam," she said, lowering her eyes.

He nodded. "Not as sorry as you are going to be. You have earned a good spanking, young lady."

At her side, Lydia snorted with laughter. It was clear that she found the whole thing wonderfully amusing. Adeline spun to look at her, her face pale. "It's just a joke! Sam doesn't spank me! It's just a little –"

Sam placed his hand under her chin and turned her head, forcing her to look at him. His strong touch made her insides melt. "Do not lie, young lady. I have spanked you before, and I will spank you now."

Adeline shivered. This evening was not turning out the way she had hoped. Was there anything she could do to save her dignity? "No! It's all just a silly joke, and I'm not –"

"Adeline, if you tell another lie, I will wash your mouth out with soap. Is that clear?"

Lydia was now laughing so much there were tears in her eyes, and Adeline blushed scarlet. She’d never been so humiliated in her life. "Yes, sir," she said meekly, causing Lydia to laugh even harder.

"Good." The robot sat down on the sofa, patting his lap. "Bend over my knee, Adeline."