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."

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.

Abigail's adventures 1: Meeting Isaac (M/F story)

First part of a short series I've written. 

Abigail could feel the familiar butterflies in her stomach as she followed the path up to Isaac's house. "Mister Stokes to some people, Isaac to my friends,” he often said, but for her, it was usually 'sir'.

Many months ago, when she'd moved here as a poor, bright-eyed student, she'd ended up with a part-time job tending to his garden and other menial tasks. He was a tall, bald, muscular man with dark eyes, and the first time she'd met him, she'd been almost speechless. There was something about the way he looked and acted that had made the red-headed student slightly weak-kneed, and for the first few days, she'd often found her thoughts drifting to him, wanting to know more about him. It was silly – he was almost old enough to be her father – but there was something about him that had caught her interest.

She'd worked for him for a few weeks when the incident occurred. She'd been given a lot of instructions when she started the job, more than she'd been able to remember, and he'd grown tired of her forgetfulness. One morning, he started lecturing her about arriving on time, and on working hard, and on following his instructions, or something to that effect. As he talked, she found herself once again lost in that deep voice and those piercing eyes.

She suddenly realized that he'd stopped talking and was looking at her impatiently. It seemed like he'd asked her a question, and that she'd have to come up with a fairly satisfying answer. In the end, she went with "Huh?”

"That does it,” Isaac had declared angrily, and he grabbed her arm and dragged her along. The next thing she knew, he'd sat down on a nearby bench, yanked her jeans down, and pulled her over his knee. She was completely stunned, unable to move a muscle until the first few smacks landed on the seat of her panties.

"Ow! What's going on?” she yelped.

"Be quiet, girl,” he'd told her. "I've told you time and time again to listen to my instructions, so now, I'm going to show you what happens when you don't.” As he scolded, his firm palm continued to spank her bubble butt, slamming like hard wood against her soft flesh.

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

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

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

"Can I talk to you about something?"

"Of course!"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Beatrice only shrugged.

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

"It was only a spanking," she muttered.

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

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

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

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

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

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


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

The exam bet (M/F story)

"So, Dean, are you worried  about the upcoming exams?" Chloe said. The lanky blonde had a smirk on her face as she sat next to her classmate in the high school lunchroom.

He shrugged. "I've worked hard, now we'll see if it pays off." Dean was far from the tallest guy in class, but he had an athletic physique that many envied. His sandy hair and deep blue eyes had also earned him a few looks.

"I'll bet I'll get a better grade than you," Chloe said smugly.

"Maybe," he said noncommittally, showing no interest in continuing the conversation. He'd never cared about anyone's grades but his own, and at the age of eighteen, he expected a little more maturity from his classmates than these childish games and taunts.

"Hmph!" she frowned, annoyed that he wasn't responding to her attempts to rile him up. "How about this for a bet: if you get a better grade than me, I'll let you spank my bottom."

He stared at her, before glancing around to make sure they were not being overheard. He was about to refuse her absurd suggestion, but when he stopped and thought about it, he realized it had a certain appeal. Chloe had a very attractive bottom, and he'd often admired her too-tight gym shorts when they were out on the track – subtly, of course. He liked the thought of getting his hands on her soft cheeks, and taking her down a peg would be a welcome bonus. "And what if you get the better grade?" he asked.

"Then you'll be going over MY knee, of course," she said, smirking again. "A long and hard spanking, on the bare bottom, until you're sobbing."

He raised an eyebrow. She seemed to have thought about this a little too much, and it was an interesting glimpse into what went on in her mind. She always tried to maintain an image of purity, so it was enlightening to see a glimpse of the real person.

He thought about the offer, before eventually nodding. "It's a bet," he said. It was a risk, but one he was willing to take. The reward if he succeeded seemed worth it.


It was a week after the exams that they finally got the results, and they'd agreed to meet up at Chloe's house to compare. Before heading over, Dean opened his envelope to learn what his efforts had achieved. It turned out he'd received a B. A decent grade, and ordinarily, he'd be satisfied with it, but would it be enough? Chloe was a good student. Would he be able to take her over his knee and paint her butt red? Or would he be forced to bend over her lap, having his own backside spanked?

Envelope in hand, he walked over to her house. She grinned tauntingly at him as she opened the door and invited him inside, and they made their way to her bedroom. Her parents were out for the evening, so they knew they wouldn't be disturbed when the debt was settled.

"You've opened it already," she complained as she saw his envelope. "You've ruined the suspense."

"It was a B," managing to sound calmer than he felt. He showed her the sheet to confirm his words.

Her fingers trembled slightly as she picked up her own envelope, and Dean could feel his own heart beating in his chest. What would happen now? Had he won or lost? Who would end up receiving the promised spanking?

The prankster (M/F story)

With one eye glancing at the morning paper, Darren stirred his teacup, placed it to his lips, and took a small sip. Suddenly, he grimaced, spitting it back into the cup before glaring at his girlfriend. "Really, Christie? Salt in the sugar bowl again? Aren't you far too old for those childish pranks?"

"Why, Darren, whatever do you mean?" the petite redhead said, batting her eyelashes and trying to look innocent. "I haven't done anything!"

"Oh, so the salt just climbed into the bowl all on its own?" he said, pouring the ruined tea into the sink and making himself a new cup. "Well, if any more salt should find itself in the sugar bowl, or any similar antics, a certain mischievous little prankster is going to find herself over my knee, having her bottom smacked. Is that clear?"

Christie started at the unexpected warning, blushing as she tried to return her boyfriend's glare. This was a new side to her gentle giant; he had never said anything like this to her before. "You're not funny," she muttered.

"Neither are you. The difference is, I'm not trying to be," he told her firmly. "I'm not joking. If you're going to act like a child, I'm going to treat you like one. And that means giving you what you deserve – a good, hard spanking."

She folded her arms in front of her chest, scoffing at his absurd threat. "You wouldn't dare."

He leaned in close, with a stern look on his face that caused her to avert her eyes and made her heart beat rapidly. "Try me and see what happens," he suggested in a cold tone.

Christie had butterflies in her stomach, and there was an unexpected tingling between her legs that told her that she should, in fact, try him and see what he would do. Part of her wanted to see more of this sterner, scarier Darren.

The ghost girl (M/F story)

It was a chilly night in October. I had been traveling by train through Central Europe, and earlier that day, I had stopped in a small Polish town that I'd already forgotten the name of. I was heading back to the hotel after a long day exploring the sights, and I decided to take a shortcut through the town's graveyard.

To my surprise, I found myself somewhat on edge as I walked through the graveyard under the light of the full moon. I had never considered myself a superstitious man, but there was still something unsettling about the statues and tombs around me. Compared to the simple, unadorned cemeteries back home, it looked like the setting of a horror movie. I spotted one particularly life-like marble sculpture of a crying girl, which was so realistic that I almost imagined that I could hear her weeping.

Suddenly, I realized that I COULD, in fact, hear weeping. Then, the statue moved.

It was a young woman, about twenty years old or so. No woman alive could have skin that pale, and when she looked in my direction, her sorrowful gaze revealed eyes from beyond the grave. There was no doubt that I was looking at a ghost.

My eyes widened. This couldn't be happening, could it? I was face to face with the living dead. The hair on my arms stood up, and I shivered, but the girl did not seem inclined to attack me. If anything, she almost seemed scared of me.

Taking a deep breath to calm my nerves, I did the only thing I could think of: I held out my hand to the grieving girl. "Hi, I'm Adam. Are you OK?"

The girl stared at me. A smile briefly graced her lips, before she reached out to shake my hand. Her touch was like a cold breeze. "I'm Krystyna," she said, her voice a strangely echoing whisper. I found her soft accent curiously alluring. "You are the first man I can remember who does not run away at the sight of me."

"I don't make a habit of running away from pretty ladies," I told her, earning me another smile. "Is everything alright?" I asked. Stupid question, I guess – she was dead!

"I… I cannot rest," she admitted, staring mournfully out across the cemetery. "I was foolish in life, and I still pay for it in death."

"Foolish how?"

She stared at the ground at her feet. "I never listened to my parents. Always thought I knew better than them. Never took their advice." Her eyes moistened again, and she blinked rapidly to clear them. "They told me not to go to the party when there was a storm coming, and I went. They told me to at least wear a jacket, and I did not." There was a pause, before she managed to continue. "That night, tired and cold, with a bottle of liquor in my hand, I passed away on the cold ground."

She shivered at the memory, and I instinctively took my jacket off and placed it over her shoulders. That seemed to wake her from her daze, and she grinned as she handed it back.

"Clothing does not warm the dead," she pointed out. "But thank you. You are a good man."

"Is there anything I can do to help?"

She seemed thoughtful. "I was never sufficiently punished for my disobedience – for my foolishness. I was sometimes bent over the knee for my mother's spoon or my father's belt, but not often enough. If I was, I would not have behaved like that. And I was never punished for my final misbehaviour." Her eyes brimmed with tears again.

"You froze to death," I pointed out. "Sounds like you've been punished more than enough."

She shook her head. "No. That is not the same as loving discipline – that was just cold and careless consequences. I need to be taken in hand, to be corrected and cared for." She looked at me, examining me for a few seconds before making her decision. "Adam, will you take me over your knee and spank me?"

Academy rivals (M/F story)

Nova glared at Xavier, who was sitting opposite her in the canteen, but he seemed not to notice.  The Academy's students, all in their late teens or early twenties, were some of the brightest minds of their generation, but out of all of them, Xavier was universally considered the best. Unfortunately, he was well aware. Tall, attractive, intelligent, charismatic, and incredibly pleased about all of it. Every time she saw her classmate’s smug grin, she wanted to punch him in the face.

Sable, one of the popular girls in class, was sitting next to him at the lunch table, batting her eyelashes as she asked him to explain one of his theories one more time. Nova felt like puking.

"Is it Monday you're starting your wilderness test? Or Tuesday?" Sable asked him at one point.

"Tonight, actually – not the way I would have preferred to spend my Friday, but at least I'll get it over with." The wilderness test was one of the Academy's more interesting trials. You were dropped at some seemingly random point in the nearby woods with a few supplies and had to find your way back. Navigation was the tricky part, and there was a competition to see who would make it back in the shortest time. Obviously, while the drop-off points were somewhat randomized, the distances were always the same, and the terrain not noticeably more difficult from one student to the next.

"Who's got the best time so far?" said Hartley, one of Xavier's friends. A handsome man, and far from stupid, but without Xavier's drive to excellence. "Does anyone know?"

"Me," Nova replied. The others looked at her as if suddenly noticing she was there. She could feel herself beginning to blush at the unaccustomed attention, and she did her best to fight it back.

"Well done… Nova," Xavier said, pausing as if trying to remember her name. She knew he had an excellent memory, so he was just being a jerk as usual. "How long?"

"34 hours," she replied, trying to sound like she didn’t think it was a big deal.

"Very good." Somehow, his grin grew smugger. "Let's see if I can do better." It was clear that he had no doubt he could – and everyone else would agree.

Having lost her appetite, Nova left the canteen. No one seemed to notice.

As Nova wandered down the hallways, an impish idea came to her. Xavier was not the kind of person who made his preparations last-minute – he had definitely packed his supplies already, and he had checked and double-checked that everything was there. But he probably wouldn't triple-check, would he? Not even Xavier was that obsessive. So, if some of his things were to mysteriously disappear from his pack, he'd probably have to try a little bit harder than usual.

Nova knew how to open the lock on his door – she'd messed with his notes before, on occasions when she’d been particularly annoyed with him. She made her way to his rooms, quickly picking the lock before anyone saw her. As she entered, she was once again irked by just how clean and tidy his quarters were. No one could live like that, could they?

She found his supplies. As expected, everything was packed and ready, stowed away in its right place in the backpack. She wondered what she should remove. Losing his knife could certainly be annoying. Should she take one of the food packs, forcing him to either forage or go hungry? She definitely wouldn't mess with the water – that was a bridge too far. There were probably some matchsticks that –

"Looking for something?" a cold voice said. She spun around and saw Xavier standing in the doorway, glaring at her. "I came to pick up a book that Sable wanted to borrow. I wasn't expecting to find a saboteur."

Nova tried to think of something to say, but she came up empty. She wondered if she could run past him, but he was probably too quick for her to manage that. He must have guessed what she was pondering, for he looked the door behind him, placing the key in his pocket. Her heart beat faster as she realized that there was no way out. She was locked in a small room with a very stern-looking man who was a head taller than her, and twice as strong. "I was just – " What? What should see say she was doing here? Looking for the bathroom? In his backpack?

"You were just stealing my supplies, hoping I wouldn't beat your score." He shook his head. "I knew you didn't like me – I've noticed you staring daggers – but I didn't think you'd stoop this low."

For some silly reason, her heart skipped a beat. He'd noticed her? "That's not – I wasn't –"

"Breaking into my quarters and stealing my notes is one thing," he scolded. "I don't really care – that's just cute." She blushed, both because he'd known about her pettiness and because he'd called her 'cute'. Or at least her actions, but that was close enough. "But this is serious, Nova."

"Oh? Suddenly you remember my name?" she snapped. She knew that riling him up right now was a terrible idea, but she couldn't help herself.

For a second, Xavier just stared, shocked at her audacity. He looked so silly standing there with his mouth open that she couldn't suppress a giggle. Collecting himself, he shook his head in disappointment. "This is not a laughing matter, Nova. You're about to face some consequences for your actions." He moved toward her, the look on his face making her step backwards to keep her distance, until she stood with her back to the wall, trapped and defenceless. He grabbed her upper arm and pulled her forwards.

In her mind's eye, she could see herself being dragged to the office, where he'd tell the administration about what she'd done. Breaking into another student's quarters was bad enough, but messing with his supplies before the wilderness trial? She'd be expelled, for sure. She pictured her entire career collapsing before her eyes, and she had to hold back a tear. She'd been so stupid!

She was so wrapped up in her thoughts, she didn't notice him moving her towards the couch and sitting down. She only woke from her stupor when he jerked her forward, pulling her over his lap. As she stared down at the stylish, recently-cleaned carpet, she felt his right arm circling her slim waist and his left hand gently patting the seat of her uniform trousers. Her eyes widened as she suddenly realized what was happening.

Xavier was going to spank her.

Approaching the head boy (m/f story)

Once again, Luther found himself patrolling the hallways between classes. The head boy found he could often quieten down misbehaving younger pupils with a mere glance. He found it silly how effective a stupid little badge was to get people to listen to you, but it worked, so he'd decided not to question it.

Suddenly, he saw one of his classmates walking towards him. Yvette was a tall, skinny girl with long, dark hair, usually seen with a scowl on her attractive face. As she approached, she held out a small, pink slip of paper in his direction. "Here," she said, scowling even more than usual.

"What is this?" he asked, making no motion to take the paper.

"Miss Teller gave me a punishment slip," she said, unable to hide her blush. "She caught me smoking behind the gym."

He raised an eyebrow. "I see. And what do you expect me to do about it?"

"Deal with it and sign it, obviously," she said, rolling her eyes. "You're the head boy, aren't you?"

 

His eyes widened as Luther realized what she was asking of him. For punishment slips, a teacher had to select and perform a suitable punishment, then sign the paper to record that justice had been carried out. As head boy, he was technically entitled to administer corporal punishments in these cases, but that rule was old, rarely enforced, and was clearly meant to be used on the younger pupils. Though now that he thought about it, Luther realized that nothing in the rules would prevent him from punishing his classmates. He guessed that this was a possibility that hadn’t been considered.

But why in the world would Yvette prefer a spanking from a boy her own age, rather than being punished by a teacher? Being over the knee of a classmate sounded absolutely humiliating. "Why me?" he asked, still not taking the paper she held out to him.

"You were nearby, and I want to get it over with," she said. "Now, are you going to take it and help me?"

Luther was about to tell her to go away and bother someone else, but her rudeness was getting on his nerves, and he now had the authority to put her across his knee and smack her bottom. The idea of putting the brat in her place had a certain appeal. Besides, he'd noticed in their gym classes that Yvette had a very cute bottom, and he shouldn't so quickly decline the opportunity to get his hands on it. And she couldn't complain about what he was about to do to her – in fact, she'd literally asked for it!

He took the slip from her hand, tutting disapprovingly. "Smoking on school grounds? This is very serious, young lady. I think you need a trip to the punishment room," he said, doing his best to sound stern.

She sighed. "You're such a dork," she said, but made no effort to resist as he led her away.

The new butler (M/FF story)

Lady Lenora smiled at me at I sat down in her office. The slim, red-headed noblewoman was only in her mid-twenties, but she had a powerful, graceful dignity – the result of the centuries of noble blood that flowed in her veins, strengthened by her having to assume the title at such a young age. "So, Steven," she said, "You've applied to the position of butler?"

I nodded. "That's right, your Ladyship."

Sitting down behind her desk, she glanced at the papers I'd handed her as I arrived. "Your credentials are excellent. This employment history is very impressive., and I've heard good things about you." I thanked her for the compliment, and she asked some questions about my previous employers. I answered those that propriety allowed me to answer, and she seemed pleased with our discussion. I had a feeling I was likely to get the job – which was fortunate. Lady Lenora was known for paying well.

After a few minutes, she changed the subject. "Some of the maids in this manor can be quite mischievous at times, and I want to make sure that you are going to be able to handle them." I assured her that it would not be a problem, but she seemed unconvinced. "Let me ask you a direct question, then. Are you prepared to use corporal punishment?"

I raised an eyebrow at this unusual suggestion. "I suppose, but would it not be more appropriate for the housekeeper to handle such matters?"

She shook her head. "My housekeeper is very good at her job, but I can assure you that there are some young women in this house that need the firm, unyielding hand of a man. Which my housekeeper is not."

It seemed an odd proposal, but then again, her family had always been eccentric. Her grandfather, for example, had ordered the local priest to excommunicate an oak tree he particularly disliked. Many of her family members would probably have ended up in institutions if it hadn't been for their money and title. By comparison, Lady Lenora's request was quite harmless.

"Will I have some leeway in how harsh the punishments are, and what they are meted out for?"

She nodded. "I have no wish to make those decisions myself. I'll leave it in your hands, as long as you get results."

"Then yes, I am prepared to do that," I said.

"Excellent," she said with a warm smile. She then rose to her feet. "Now, could you please follow me?"

Linda peeks (M/F story)

Another story written for a certain naughty young lady I know.

"Come and look at this, Eileen," Linda said as she waved her friend over. The brunette Eileen looked at the dress that her blonde friend was holding. "Isn't this perfect for the party next weekend?"

Eileen shrugged. "It's very nice, but we've spent a lot of money already."

"You can afford it, can't you? Haven't you worked a lot of overtime lately? You have to spend that money, you know."

"Well… when you put it that way… it IS a really cute dress."


About two hours later, the two 19-year-olds came back to Eileen's apartment. "George, can you help us with these bags? There's quite a lot to carry," Eileen said to her boyfriend.

George raised an eyebrow as he looked at the pile of clothes. "Haven't we agreed that you should be spending less money on clothes?" he said with a sharp edge to his voice.

Eileen shrugged. "I've worked a lot of overtime lately…"

"…Because we were going on vacation next year, so we agreed it would be a good idea to start saving up," he continued. "Have you changed your mind? You should have told me."

She shook her head. "No, the Canary Islands sound really lovely, so we're definitely going."

"And how does that fit with going out and buying clothes – especially when your wardrobe is already full?" George folded his arms in front of his muscular chest, and furrowed his brow.

Linda grinned as she watched them. It was slightly funny to see her friend get scolded by her boyfriend – especially since it was partly Linda's fault.

Eileen placed her hands on her hips and scowled at George. "It's my money, and I do what I want with it."

"Do you want me to pay for the whole trip?" George asked sharply. Eileen shrugged, as if it didn't matter to her. George turned to Linda. "Linda, I think it's best that you go home. Eileen and I will be having a private conversation."

Linda turned to leave, but Eileen placed a hand on her shoulder. "You don't have to go if you don't want to. There's not going to be any such conversation."

"Yes, there is," George said in a very strict voice, and Linda shivered. She thought it was best to disappear.

She'd gone a few hundred meters down the road when she suddenly remembered that she'd left her shopping bags behind. She turned and went back, but before she could ring the doorbell, she heard voices from inside.

"George, you cannot do this! Let go of me!"

"No chance, Eileen. You've behaved like a brat, and you're getting a spanking."

Linda's heart was beating so loudly in her chest that for a moment she feared that they would hear her. Was Eileen really getting a spanking? From nice, sweet George? It sounded unbelievable – and also terribly delicious to think about. She thought about opening the door and telling them she was there to pick up the bags; maybe he'd let her watch while he spanked Eileen! But she doubted it. He'd probably wait until she left again. But maybe he'd forgotten to close the curtains…

The cyclist and the farmer (M/F story)

May looked around at the unfamiliar landscape and had to admit that she was lost.

It was a warm and beautiful day, and she'd gone for a long bike ride in the countryside. She'd decided to explore some paths she'd never travelled before, and had gone further than intended. She had a nagging feeling that she'd taken the wrong turn at the last crossroads, but she didn't know which one was the correct one.

There was a river on one side, and a farmer's field on the other. Across the field, she suddenly spotted a road she thought she recognized, and had a feeling it would be easy to get home from there, but she had no idea which road would take her there. She sighed, frustrated at being so close to a path home, yet so far, when she realized that the plants were small enough that she could probably cycle across. She knew farmers didn't like it when you went through their fields, but she was too tired and too lost to care.

As she began to cycle, she knew that the trip would take her close to the farmhouse. She recognized it as old Mr. Bannerman's place. He'd retired a year or two ago, and she'd heard some out-of-towner she'd never met had bought it. As she neared the house, a man that she presumed was the new farmer came running out. He was tall and broad-shouldered, with sandy hair. She guessed him to be in his mid-thirties; about a decade older than herself.

His handsome face and muscular build made her wish that she could have met him at a party or at a bar - she'd be wearing her favourite little black dress, with her hair and makeup perfectly done, giving him a coy smile from across the room. He would stare at her, grinning back at her and wondering who the stunning beauty was. In reality, she was dirty, clad in a sweat-stained exercise outfit, and trespassing on his land, and the look he gave her was anything but friendly.

"What do you think you're doing!?" he shouted. "Get out of the field. You're killing my crops, you daft bint!"

May had intended to apologize for her actions, but being shouted at and insulted didn't make her disposed to be friendly. She knew she was in the wrong, but had no intention of admitting it. "I was lost and needed a shortcut," she snapped. "I'll be off your lands in a few minutes."

"You didn't have to ride straight over my crop. There are paths you could have taken," he said with a scowl. "And snapping at me? If you were a few years younger, I'd take you across my knee and tan your hide for this stupid stunt."

She gave him an indignant glare, blushing furiously at this assault on her pride. Too angry for words, she tried to spit at him, but it landed several feet short of the mark. The look he cast in her direction convinced her to get out of there before he decided she wasn't too old for a spanking after all, so she quickly cycled away.

The Maid's Punishment (M/F story)

"Lucy?" Mr Bowman looked at his maid with a disapproving expression. "Into my study. We need to have a chat about your recent work." Mr Bowman was an athletic, dark-haired man in his late thirties, almost always clad in an expensive suit. He was considered quite attractive, which was enhanced by the fact that he was the owner of a beautiful mansion and a large fortune – both inherited.

"Yes, Mr Bowman," Lucy said meekly. Her curly red hair hanging to her shoulders, the 28-year-old woman was dressed in a classic maid's uniform which hid her ample curves. She had a face that was often described as 'cute', and rarely as 'beautiful'. One her employer's back was turned, the maid licked her lips, and an eager grin spread across her face. She had a feeling that she knew what this 'chat' would entail, and she was already looking forward to it.

Straightening the skirt of her uniform, she eventually managed to assume an expression of contrition. He was going to punish her, after all, and it wouldn't do to have him know just how much she was enjoying it.

When Lucy had started to work as a maid for Mr Bowman several months ago, there had been some issues – she overslept a few times, she didn't always show the respect he felt he was due, and her work really wasn't up to his standards. He'd called her into his study and told her he'd dock her pay – and that he'd fire her if she didn't improve. She'd turned pale and begged him to reconsider, but he'd called her lazy and undisciplined. That's when creativity struck her.

Lucy told him that her parents had spanked her until the day she moved out, and that the new-found lack of consequences clearly hadn't been good for her. Maybe instead of docking her pay, her employer could provide the discipline she needed? Mr Bowman had been very doubtful, but had eventually agreed to give it a try. He'd patted his thigh, and with a show of great reluctance and embarrassment, she'd bent over his lap.

However, once she was in position and he could no longer see her expression, she allowed the grin that had been trying to fight its way to the surface, to spread across her face. She was over the knee of a rich, handsome bachelor, who was about to give her a sound spanking. Could this get any better? This was fulfilling every fantasy she'd had for years.

The Magic Ring 2: Besties (F/F story)

"I cannot believe you'd spill something on my skirt, then try to hide it from me! Ruin your OWN things all you like, but leave my stuff alone," Joanne snapped as she paced back and forth on the floor of her bedroom. Joanne was my best friend; she was a petite girl with long black hair, deep green eyes, and a laid-back nature – though obviously, right at this moment, that nature was nowhere to be seen.

"I've already said I'm sorry. What more do you want?" I said as I stood before her, barely managing to resist the urge to roll my eyes. We had been planning to go to a club, and she'd decided to wear her newest skirt. It was when she retrieved it from her closet that she discovered what I'd done. "It was an accident."

"Oh?" she said, spinning to face me. "Was it an accident that you went to my closet, taking the new skirt I haven't even worn myself yet – without asking me? Was it an accident that you spilled soda all over it at the party? Was it an accident that you then hung the stained skirt back up in my closet, hoping I wouldn't notice?"

"I washed it first," I pointed out. "It isn't my fault the stain is still visible. Also, spilling the soda WAS an accident."

The glare she cast in my direction told me that my comments were not appreciated. "I can't believe you!" she fumed. "You have no respect for other people's property! Do you have any idea how hard this will be to clean?"

At this point, I was no longer able to stop myself from rolling my eyes. She sounded like my mother, not my best friend. "I've apologized. Are you going to lecture me all day? I wish you'd spank me or something – get it out of your system," I said, having given up all attempts to hold my tongue.

Suddenly, I saw a gleam of light from my hand. I glanced down at the ring I'd found the week before – on the day that Mr Page had spanked me in detention. What a wonderful day; a new piece of jewellery AND a trip over the knee of my most handsome teacher? Sign me up! There had also been a flash of light from the ring on that day; probably I'd held it at just the right angle to reflect the light, but I hadn't been able to replicate it. Before now, that is.

Joanne frowned as she regarded me, then sat down on her bed. "That sounds like a good idea, actually. Bend over my lap."

A shiver ran down my back, ending up as a gentle tingle between my legs. "I'm sorry?"

"My words don't seem to be getting through to you, so I'm going to see what my hand can do. Over my knee NOW!" She patted her lap.

The Magic Ring 1: Hot for Teacher (M/F story)

I sighed as I looked at the work I'd been assigned. Being stuck in detention really wasn't the way I had wanted to spend my Friday afternoon, but my wishes had not been taken into consideration. The teacher had caught me with a pack of cigarettes, and though I was old enough to smoke, I'd been given detention for smoking on school grounds. I pointed out that I hadn't – I'd gone down to the nearby lake instead. In consideration of this, the charges had been dropped, and I'd been given detention for leaving school grounds during the school day instead.

I started to work on the assignment, fuming to myself. This was so unfair! I was eighteen – a woman, not a girl, and shouldn't have to sit in detention. It was bad enough that I still had to wear this stupid school uniform. I was also the only student in detention today – it was just me and the teacher.

Mister Page was sitting at the front of the classroom, throwing me the occasional scowl to remind me to feel sorry for my misconduct. That meant there was at least one bright spot to being here; I had something nice to look at. Robert Page was a tall, handsome, dark-haired, well-dressed man in his early thirties, and he seemed to be completely unaware of the way some of the girls would giggle and flutter their eyelashes when they saw him. I had to admit I found him quite fit as well.

"Still, there are better things I could do on a Friday afternoon," I muttered. I had a bad habit of talking to myself; mumbling the thoughts that other people would leave as internal monologues. It had gotten me in trouble a few times, but fortunately, Mister Page was too far away to hear me.

As I continued to write, my eyes rested on the ring I'd found on the shore of the lake, and which I now wore on my right hand. It looked to be a beautiful silver ring with a small, red gem on it, but I assumed it was a cheap fake – in real life, you didn't stumble upon valuable jewellery on the beach during a smoke break.

I glanced over at Mister Page, who was writing something in his notebook. "You're just as unhappy about being here as I am, I suppose," I mumbled just as quietly as before. "You poor thing. I wish you'd take me over your lap and spank me instead – then we could both go home." I had always had a secret interest in spanking, and the thought of being placed over Mister Page's knee was far more appealing than being stuck doing schoolwork all afternoon.

Out of the corner of my eye, I thought I could see a flash of light from the ring, and I frowned, looking down at my hand again. What had just happened? Had I held it at just the right angle to reflect the sunlight? I tried to wriggle my hand back and forth to repeat the exact circumstances, but couldn't get another flash like that. With my mind occupied, I hadn't noticed that Mister Page had risen to his feet, and looked up to see him standing next to my desk, scowling down at me.

"Not focusing on your assignment, Miss Pacelle?" he said in a disapproving tone. "I don't think detention is having the intended effect on you, young lady. Maybe it's not the right punishment for sneaking off school grounds." He furrowed his brow as if considering something. "No, I think we should try something else. Maybe a good spanking would teach you the error of your ways."

I stared at him in shock. He couldn't have said what I thought he had said, could he? My handsome teacher could not just have threatened to spank me; I must have misheard him. But he grabbed my arm, pulling me to my feet.

Blackmail (M/F story)

Cody was two years younger than Paula, the girl next door. They were friends, but not close friends, though they had hung out quite a bit when growing up. Since she was the older, and was acted somewhat more responsibly, their parents had often left her in charge when they were young, which had irked him greatly. She hadn't teased him too much about it, but there was something slightly smug about her smile that made him want to take her down a peg. The thought of seeing her brought low was greatly appealing to him.

Shortly after he turned eighteen, Cody was sitting in the living room watching TV, while his mother was outside, reading a book in the sun. Suddenly, Paula entered the house and walked straight into the kitchen. As she didn't glance around, he realized that she hadn't seen him. He watched her withdraw his mother's wallet from the purse standing on the table, and she took a few bills that she placed in her pocket. She turned to leave and almost walked straight into Cody, who was standing right behind her.

"Oh! Cody, I didn't see you there."

"That was obvious," he said, raising an eyebrow. "I was on the couch watching TV. Stealing from my mother? That's a tarnish to your good-girl reputation, isn't it?"