Southern girl (M/F story)

It was shortly after my nineteenth birthday that I received the invitation from my aunt and uncle to stay at their house in the southern US for the summer. As I wondered whether to accept their offer, there was one factor that affected my decision. For as long as I could remember, I'd had an interest in spanking, diving into the darker corners of the internet in my frantic search. There was no thought that piqued my interest more than a young woman getting her bottom bared, before being pulled over someone's lap for a long, hard spanking.

One of the things I'd heard most about, as far as the Southern US was concerned, was country whippings: young women being dragged into the woodshed for a good dose of the paddle, or being forced to cut their own switches. If I decided to go, I reckoned there was a small chance I'd hear some juicy stories, or perhaps, if I was lucky, I'd get to witness one myself! I didn't know how often young men like myself got to watch these unfortunate young ladies during their punishments, but I saw no harm in being optimistic. I decided to leave Europe for the first time in my life.

I could tell you about meeting my aunt and uncle, seeing the US for the first time, getting to know my cousin Jane, and exploring my new surroundings, but all that would have been frightfully boring, so I'll skip to the interesting part: Kathy.

Kathy was the second daughter of my uncle's closest neighbour. She was a year older than me, a tall girl with red hair, a bright smile and the shortest skirt I'd ever seen on a woman whose name didn't end with ".jpg". She'd offered to show me around town, and even though I'd seen most of what little there was to see around here, I accepted the offer. If there is ever a chance to follow a girl in a short skirt around all day, it shouldn't be wasted.

A few hours later, we were walking around the fields south of town, while Kathy was talking my ear off with some sort of gossip. I wasn't really paying attention, mainly enjoying the sound of her Southern drawl while wondering how I'd steer the conversation over to my favourite topic. You see, I'd already decided I wanted to hear all about this young lady's spankings, and I would prefer it if I could somehow convince her to tell me herself. I just couldn't see a way to change the subject without being too obvious.

In the end, I gave up and went with a far blunter approach. "Kathy, can I ask you a question?"

"Sure!" she said cheerily.

"It's a bit.... personal, and I don't know if you want to answer it."

"Well, until you ask it, I don't know either," she pointed out.

"Have you ever been spanked?" I said, staring at the horizon. After a few seconds, I looked over at her.

She was staring at me, eyes open wide. "What do you want to know that for?"

I shrugged, trying my hardest to seem like I didn't really care whether she answered or not. "Just curious. I'm trying to see if the things I've heard about the US are true, and one of the things I've heard is that American parents are a lot stricter than their European counterparts."

"I guess that makes sense," she said. "But yes."

"Yes, what?" I asked.

"Yes, I've been spanked. Lots of times, actually," she said, as calmly as if she was discussing the weather. "My butt's felt the belt plenty of times, let me tell you."

Bingo, I thought. Now, how to get as many details out her as possible? "Your dad uses a belt?" I asked, trying to appear both shocked and sympathetic – the former was easy, the latter less so.

"Not JUST that, off course," she said while she started walking again. "A couple of paddles, the yardstick, and sometimes, if I'm really bad, he'll take out the BIRCH." She looked around, as if she was afraid talking about it would summon a birch out of thin air. When it failed to appear, she continued. "Ma uses the brush and a wooden spoon, when she has to, but usually, she sends me to my room and waits for Dad to take care of it."

"You keep using the word 'uses'," I pointed out. "Don't you mean 'used'?"

She shook her head. "Oh no, I'm still spanked, I can promise you that." She looked up while she searched her memory. "Let's see, my last spanking was probably on Friday, so a little less than a week ago. I'd stayed out past my curfew, so Dad took me over his knee and took out the small paddle – about the size of a ping pong paddle. Blistered my butt like crazy." She glanced over at me. "Are you ok? You look pale, and it sounds like you're breathing a bit heavy." Her voice was full of concern.

"I'm fine, just tired," I told her. "I'm not used to walking so far." In reality, the image of this lovely girl draped over a lap, bare bottom paddled until she cried, had filled my head, and I had some trouble concentrating.

"Let's go down to the river," she said. "It's a bit cooler, and you can rest. Anyway, where was I? Last Friday. I thought I'd never sit again, but a few days later, the bruises were gone." She turned her back to me, flipping up her skirt to reveal her panties. "See?" she said, pointing at her cheeks. "Not a mark on me. I heal quickly," she said and smiled. Or at least, I assume she did. I wasn't looking at her face.

"Your breathing's gotten worse," she said, sounding concerned. "It's not far now, then you can rest for a bit."

"Thank you," I said. "That's very kind." Or something to that effect, my mind was elsewhere.

We sat under the trees for a while, dipping our feet in the cold river while she told me all about her spankings. "Sometimes," she told me, "He makes me do corner time on the porch – I have to face the wall, bare from the waist down, on display to anyone who happens to walk past. Can you believe it?"

I shook my head, wondering whether I'd be lucky enough to witness this during my stay. I vowed to always keep my camera phone on me until I did. Some things should be preserved.

"And then, he tells me that I shouldn't talk about my spankings – it's private, he says." She raised her hands in the air in frustration. "Well, it's not very private when I'm on the porch, I can promise you that."

"You just told me," I pointed out.

She looked at me with confusion in her eyes. "Huh?"

"You said your father didn't want you to talk about your punishments. Well, you've just told me all about them."

She clasped her hands in front of her mouth, as if she hoped to catch the words and put them back in. "Oh no! I forgot! I'll get the birch for this!"

"Don't worry, I won't tell anyone. He doesn't need to find out," I told her. While the thought of Kathy being bent over for the birch was VERY appealing to me, she looked so cute and vulnerable I just had to comfort her. I just wasn't cruel enough, I guess.

She smiled at me. "Thanks. You're so kind, you know that?" Suddenly, she looked sad. "But I broke my promise. I SHOULD be punished, it's only fair. But he'll use birch, I just know it. Anything but the birch..." she said, staring at the water.

A thought occurred to me – a thought so appealing I had to look away so that she wouldn't spot the huge grin on my face. "What if I punish you?" I said, once I'd finally gotten my facial features somewhat under control.

She looked up at me. "What do you mean?"

"I take you over my knee and spank you. You're punished for your mistake, but my hand will be a lot less painful than the birch."

She bit her lip. "I don't know," she said. "I'd feel pretty embarrassed going over your knee, considering you're younger than me."

"Well, that's what makes it a punishment," I told her. "It wouldn't do you any good if it wasn't embarrassing." I shrugged. "But it's your call, I'm just offering," I said, trying to pretend I suggested it for HER sake.

"I guess that makes sense." She got to her feet, looking around at the woods around us. "No one ever comes down here, so this is as good a spot as any," she said. "Why don't you sit down on that tree stump over there?"

This was actually happening, I thought to myself as I sat down. A beautiful woman was about to go over my knee for a spanking. I'd pinch myself, but if this was a dream, I didn't want to wake up.

Kathy raised her skirt, lowered her panties to her knees, and leaned over my lap, giving me access to one of the most well-formed derrières I'd ever laid eyes on. I pushed her slightly forward, so that her feet were off the ground, like in the stories I'd read online. I wanted to watch her feet kick. I rested my right hand on her bottom, wondering whether she'd protest if I squeezed her cheeks.

"You don't have to wait any more. I'm ready," she told me as she looked up at me. "Well, as ready as I'll ever be," she said, trying to put on a brave smile.

The first few smacks were, I'll admit, pretty weak. I'd never done this before, and I wasn't entirely sure how hard you were supposed to hit. By the pathetic clapping sound my hand made, the paleness of her cheeks and the complete silence of the girl across my knees, my guess was that the answer was 'A bit harder than that'.

I added a few more slaps, each harder than the previous, and after about a dozen, I got a small reaction: Kathy let out a small 'ow!', and a pink hand print appeared on her bottom before disappearing again.

I kept spanking, harder and harder, and soon, Kathy was kicking her legs, letting out cute little yelps every time my hand landed on her naked skin. I'd gotten into a sort of rhythm, moving from cheek to cheek. Slowly, her bottom was turning pink, and I aimed for the paler parts to make sure her entire backside was the same shade.

She had tears in her eyes, making her cute face look even cuter. I was in heaven, and I wanted it to go on forever.

But of course, it had to stop. When Kathy started kicking her legs, promising to be good, I decided she'd had enough. I helped her to her feet, giving her a hug as she rubbed her stinging rear.

"Thanks," she'd told me. "I'm glad you're such a good friend. I don't know if I could have done this to someone – make them cry like this. I'm lucky you're more determined than me." She kissed my cheek. "Thank you."

I have to admit, I felt like a bastard for manipulating such a sweet girl. Of course, if I could turn back time, I'd do the same thing again. That butt was seriously CUTE!

It was morning, I sat in my room, thinking about the events of the previous day. One thing bothered me: I'd had an erection all through the spanking. Kathy must have felt it, it was poking her right in the stomach. Why hadn't she said anything? Was she thinking about other things, like her impending punishment, and her broken promise? I shrugged. Why look a gift horse in the mouth?

Jane entered, wondering if I wanted to play darts. "Sure," I said to my cousin, "But could I ask you something first?" I wanted to know how often Kathy was placed on the porch, so I'd know if I had any chance of seeing it during my stay. "I heard a rumour in town yesterday, about Kathy?"

"What about her?" Jane asked.

"Well... someone told me she is sometimes birched, and placed on the porch to do corner time. Is that true?"

She grinned. "Telling stories to the city boy again, huh? Who was it? Was it Sally, that little brat? Or Joe? I'll knock his teeth out, the stinking -"

"I don't remember who it was," I said hastily. "It's not true then?"

"That girl hasn't been spanked in her life," Jane said.

I blinked, trying to process this new information. "Never?"

"Well, I don't spend all day peeking in through their windows," she told me. "But as far as I know, no." She looked at me. "Why do you ask, by the way?"

I shrugged, trying to hide my sudden and utter confusion. "I thought it sounded cruel," I told her. "I wondered whether we should call the police – cruelty like that can't be legal."

"Always the knight in shining armour, huh?" Jane grinned. "Well, this damsel isn't in distress, so don't charge in. Now, are we going to go outside so I can kick your ass in darts or not?"


She'd been manipulating me, I realized. I was sitting outside, back to a fence as I thought about everything that had happened. That devious little minx. Lied to me right from the start to get what she wanted. Of course, I'd be a lot more upset if 'what she wanted' was something other than 'getting me to spank those lovely cheeks of her a nice, rosy colour."

"Looking thoughtful there. What're you thinking about?"

I looked up. Kathy was standing at the other side of the fence, leaning over it to look at me. "So everything was a lie?"

She nodded. "Every last word. These sweet cheeks of mine hadn't received as much as a smack before you got to town," she said, slapping herself on the behind. "You should be happy. You got the honour of being my first." I said nothing, and she began to pout. "But you're right, I guess," she said. "I shouldn't have lied to you like that. That was very, very naughty of me." She fluttered her eyelids. "Perhaps you, with your big, city-educated brain can think of some way I can be punished for that?"

She was right. I could.

The Night at the Tavern (M/F story)

This is part of a series that I once thought about writing, about an adventuring party trying to defeat an evil Baron. I don't know if I will ever write more chapters, but I thought this was good enough to be a stand-alone story.

Marcus took the map out from the stack of papers in front of him, and he wondered where they should head next. He and Julia had been looking for a way to defeat the Baron for months, but they still didn't have a clear goal in mind – how exactly were they going to defeat a man that could combine dark sorcery with one of the deadliest sword arms in the country? Marcus had his sword at his side, and Julia could accomplish great things with her mage's staff in her hands, but even together, they were no match for him – not to mention having to get past the men under his command.

They were sitting in a tavern, enjoying a drink at a table as they made their plans. Marcus had learned long ago that if you wanted to make secret plans, you never sat in a dark corner – dark dealings in dark corners were noteworthy, and every man in the house would be watching them out of the corner of their eye. Instead, they'd picked a room near the window, where they sat as if they were filling out some form, never raising their voices or whispering. Marcus and Julia had long ago mastered the art of appearing boring, not worth anyone's attention – and they never received any, either.

Marcus was just wondering whether they should seek help with the Monks in the Valley, when he became aware of a loud racket on the other side of the room. He stared open-mouthed as he watched Gwen, the third member of their little group, dancing on a table with a tankard in her hand. Gwen was a young bard who had decided to travel with them, and they greatly benefited from her local knowledge – she could find secret paths through thick forests, and she knew the location of every alehouse in the country. But she didn't share their talent for subtlety, and as he watched her swing her hips to the lute music, he knew that any hope of avoiding attention was lost. In addition, she'd fallen into a lake the day before, and had to borrow one of Julia's robes, and it was clear that she didn't know how to move in it – the men watching her performance were getting glimpses of things normally kept under wraps.

“Take the papers,” he told Julia as he got up. “Go to our rooms and wait there.” Once Julia had left, Marcus went over to Gwen. By putting his foot out and gently nudging the table, he pushed Gwen out of balance, and she stumbled to the side, leaning onto him as he held her to keep her from falling to the floor. “You've had a bit too much to drink, Gwen,” he told her gently. “I think it's time you went to bed.”

“N-nonsense,” she slurred as she tried to step away from him. “I'm going to dance."

He couldn't allow this to drag out, so with one swift motion, he lifted her up in his arms and carried her out of the room, trying his best not to draw attention. Of course, since most of the men in the room were staring at them, disappointed that the show was over, and since Gwen had started singing loudly, he wasn't very successful.

“Why are you ruining my fun?” she said accusingly as he carried her into the room that Julia and Gwen were sharing. Julia was sitting on a stool, watching them with a grin on her face. Marcus couldn't quite see the funny side of the situation.

He set Gwen down on her feet and glared at her. “We were supposed to get some rest here and NOT DRAW ATTENTION to ourselves. Do you remember that? Or did it get lost in your tankard, like the rest of your brain?”

She pouted. “I was only dancing a little,” she said, crossing her arms in front of her chest.

“You were dancing on a table, in a wizard's robe that is starting to come loose. Let me put it this way: if you'd been wearing panties, you'd be flashing them right now. I don't think there was a man in the house who wasn't enjoying the view.”

With an embarrassed blush, she tightened the robe, before trying to push past him. “I'm going to get another drink.”

He stopped her. “You're going to do no such thing. You're going to spend the rest of the evening in this room. Do a bit of reading, get some sleep, do what you want, but you're not leaving this room until you've sobered up.” She tried to push past him again, but again, he held her back. “If you don't stop this nonsense and sit down, I'm going to pull you across my knee and spank your bottom.”

Julia gasped loudly, the smile on her face growing wider, while Gwen blushed and almost seemed to lose her nerve. If he'd delivered this threat to Julia, she would have listened – she'd been over his knee enough times to know she didn't want a repeat performance. But Gwen didn't have her experience, and after a pause, she glared at him, trying her best to appear intimidating. “I don't remember asking you to pretend to be my father. Get out of my way.”

As she tried to push him aside, he grabbed her arm, stepping over to the bed as he dragged her behind him. She tried to resist, but as he sat down, he easily pulled her forward and tipped her over his lap. With one hand at her back, holding her down, he pulled the robe up, revealing her pale, white cheeks.

“You can't do this!” she yelled. “Let me up at once.”

Instead of answering her, Marcus just lifted his hand and started spanking her bottom. His hand moved from cheek to cheek, delivering firm, hard smacks that soon had her squirming over his lap.

“Are you going to pay attention now?” he said after a while, not pausing the spanking as he interrogated her. Her backside was beginning to turn pink under his palm, and Julia was giggling – she obviously found spankings hilarious when she wasn't the one getting them.

“Ouch! I'll be good, I promise. I'll just have a quiet pint in the corner, no one will notice me! Honest!” she said, trying to squirm out of his grip. It was futile.

“You're going to stay right here, in this room, young lady,” he said, delivering a particularly firm set of spanks to her sit spots. “And if I hear any more lip from you, you're going to find yourself back over my knee, and I'll take a wooden spoon to your bare bottom. Is that clear?”

“Ow! Yes, sir!”

“Her manners are improving. Maybe you should do this more often?” Julia suggested with a smile.

“Maybe you should worry more about your own tail before you find yourself facing the carpet again,” he told her. She just smiled, her eyes shining as she watched Gwen kick her legs from the pain.

“Let's try this one more time: are you going to be a good girl and stay in this room for the rest of the evening?”

“Owiee! Yes, sir, I promise!”

He smiled. “And what is going to happen if you don't?”

“Ow! You'll spank me, again, sir!”

“Good,” he said, and after a final volley of hard slaps on her quivering posterior, he helped her up. She cried into his shoulder as he rubbed her back, and she soon fell asleep in his arms. He put her to bed, and walked over to Julia. “Are the papers in the backpack?”

She nodded. “I think you're right, we should head to the Monks. Even if they can't give us anything but information, that information could be valuable.”

“Then, that's settled.” He nodded to the bard who was moving in her sleep, resting on her stomach. “If she tries to leave, stop her, and fetch me.”

“Will do.”

“By the way, if I learn you've been teasing her for this, I'm going to give you a thrashing that will make what you just saw, seem like love taps. Got that?”

“The thought never crossed my mind,” she said, with her best impression of an innocent woman.

“Of course not,” he told her. “I'm going to bed.”

Olivia and Kristine (F/F story)

 The first time I met Olivia, she was standing outside the apartment next door, searching through her pockets for a key. She was wearing a pink shirt and wore her blonde hair in two long braids. I estimated the girl to be between 13 and 15 years old, and I assumed that she was the younger sister of the college student that had moved in the weekend before. I introduced myself and learned that my guess had been wrong – Olivia was in fact the college girl in question,  19 years old (ten years younger than myself), but as a petite girl who liked to wear bright colours, she was used to people misjudging her age.

 

I told her that my name was Kristine, and I worked in an office downtown. She invited me in for a cup of tea and a chat, and I accepted. As I sat on the couch and looked around the room, I glanced at the unopened cardboard boxes. I decided to be a good neighbour and offer to help her unpack.

 

One of the boxes I opened turned out to be full of clothes, so I carried it into her bedroom. I stifled a giggle as I picked up a pair of pyjamas – the bottom half was bright pink, while the upper part was white and covered in pink flowers. Not exactly the kind of pyjamas I had expected to find on a college freshman.

 

The next thing I picked out of the box was a few pairs of underwear – these, at least, weren’t pink, but most of them had a bear or a kitten or some other cute animal on them. I chuckled, and Olivia turned her head to see what I was laughing at.

 

“What’s so funny?” she asked, in a tone of voice that suggested genuine curiosity.

 

“Well… it’s all so…” I waved my hand vaguely. “Well… childish. Are you really going to wear this stuff?”

 

“I would hardly have bothered to pack it if I weren’t,” she said.

 

“Aren’t you worried about what people are going to say?”

 

“No. I like them, and none of my clothes are against the college’s rules,” she said, still seemingly confused about what I found so funny.

 

I shook my head, trying to picture myself going to college like that back when I was nineteen. I think I would have died of embarrassment.

 

“Look, you can’t go to school like this,” I said.

 

“Of course I can,” she told me. “I am an adult, and I can wear what I want. I want to wear that.” She put her hands at her hips and glared at me. “And if you try to meddle in what I choose to wear, I’m going to spank you.”

 

I chuckled again, but she was still glaring at me. I looked at her face, trying to find traces of a joke, but found nothing. I arched an eyebrow, folded my hands in front of me, and stood towering over her. I was 5 and a half feet, and this girl was a few inches shorter than five feet.

 

“And how exactly were you going to accomplish that?” I said.

 

“Like this,” she said simply as she grabbed my hand. She dragged me behind her as she walked over to the bed, sat down, and started to pull me forward. I could easily have resisted her if I tried, but I was far too shocked about what was going on.

 

Less than an hour ago, I had met a petite college student who dressed like a pre-teen, and now, she was going to pull me over her lap and spank me. I like to think I’d just decided to see where things were going, but to tell the truth, I'm not sure I was doing any conscious thinking at this point.

 

Once she’d placed me over her lap, Olivia began to spank the seat of my jeans. Her hand moved from cheek to cheek, delivering a crisp smacking sound and a slight sting as it landed. Once I got over the shock of finding myself in this position, I discovered that it was far from unpleasant. In fact, her hand was spreading a pleasant warmth across my bottom.

 

When she stopped, I looked over my shoulder. Olivia was blowing on her palm.

 

“These jeans are hurting my hand,” she complained. “Stand up."

 

I did as instructed, and then watched as she unbuttoned and unzipped my jeans. Once she’d lowered them to my knees, uncovering my white cotton panties, she smiled to herself.

 

“That’s better,” she said. She then looked up at me and patted her lap. “Back across my knee. I need to finish your spanking.”

 

As I laid across the bed, my bottom across her lap, I decided to rest my head on my folded arms and just enjoy the moment. As she continued the spanking, I found that it hurt more without the protection of my jeans, but it was still a pleasant sensation. Her soft thighs under my belly, her palm gently patting my warm backside… I couldn’t remember the last time I was this content.

 

My reverie was interrupted when her fingers grabbed the waistband of my panties and began to pull them down. “Hey!” I protested, surprised by this move.

 

“All proper spankings are on the bare bottom,” she said, as if this much was obvious. “You need a proper punishment if you’re going to learn your lesson."

 

Did she honestly think she was punishing me, or was this part of some game she played? I decided not to ask. I lifted my hips, allowing her to pull my panties down. After all, I was already over the lap of a girl ten years my junior, with my jeans around my ankles and a pink, warm bottom – keeping my panties on wouldn’t make things much different.

 

Her palm continued to gently spank my bottom, and I found myself lifting my hips to meet every smack of her hand. The room was spinning, and I was moaning with pleasure.

 

“Have you learned your lesson, Kristine?” she asked after a while. The sting in my rear was beginning to build, and I decided I’d had enough for now. I nodded.

 

She gave my backside a hard slap that woke me from my reverie. “That’s ‘yes, ma’am’ or ‘no ma’am’, Kristine,” she lectured. “Which is it?”

 

“Yes, ma’am” I replied. She helped me to my feet, and I wandered over to the wardrobe. My jeans were still around my ankles, but I kicked them off as I walked. As I stood with my back to the mirror, I marvelled at the sight of my pink rear end. I felt warm and tingly all over.

 

Olivia stood up. “Are you going to be a good girl now?”

 

“Yes, ma’am,” I replied.

 

She walked up to me, grabbed my head and pulled me down, and shocked me by giving me a loving kiss, right on the lips.

 

“Good to hear!” she said. “Let’s finish unpacking.” I reached for my jeans, but she shook her head. “Can’t you leave those where they are? Your bottom is really cute, particularly when it’s pink.”

 

I pulled up my panties but decided to grant her wish and leave my jeans on the floor. I spent the rest of the afternoon unpacking things, getting a gentle smack to the seat of my panties every time Olivia walked by, or a comment that would cause my face to blush just as pink as my bottom.

What the secretary saw (M/F story)

 Sally Jackson leaned back in her chair, smiling to herself. She'd expected that stack of documents to eat up at least a few hours of her time, but half an hour after she'd started, the stack was almost gone. She was quite happy; it was a Friday afternoon, and her boss, the accomplished businessman Percival Hill, had said they might have to work a few hours overtime if they didn't get everything done in time. But from the looks of things, that wouldn't be necessary.

 

She'd expected that working as a secretary for Mister Hill would be tough work, considering how few of the other people in the firm wanted the job. But it wasn't too bad. There wasn't much time for slacking, but he didn't demand more than when she'd been a low-ranking clerk. She couldn't understand why so few people jumped at the chance to a larger office and better pay.

 

The sound of high heels determinedly marching towards the offices made her look up. Sally smiled politely as Elisabeth Hill, the boss' wife, approached. Sally hadn't spoken to Mrs Hill yet, and wondered what she was like.

 

Mrs Hill glared at her, barely summoning up the effort to sneer: "You're her, aren't you? My husband's new pet."

 

Sally blinked. "I'm sorry?"

 

"He called me and told me he'd be 'working' late today," Mrs Hill said, not paying much attention to what Sally was saying. She took a few steps forward, moving around the desk, and running her eyes up Sally's body. The young secretary felt her skin crawl. "I can see why. You didn't waste much time, did you? A week or so in the job, and you're already in his trousers."

 

Sally had been wondering just what this woman was accusing her of, but no longer. She tried her best to remain polite. "Mrs Hill, the reason we might have to work late is that there was a lot of paperwork to get through," she explained calmly. "But it looks like we might be finished soon, so we won't have to."

 

Mrs Hill smiled self-satisfyingly. "So, when a predator shows up, the scavenger scurries back in her hole. How fitting. But remember this," she said, pushing her face into Sally's. "He's mine, so get your claws out of him."

 

Then came a voice, slow, but forceful, and slightly amused: "So in this predator-scavenger analogy of yours, do I play the part of corpse?"

 

Mrs Hill sprung back, blushing as she turned to face her husband. "Percival! I was just-"

 

"You were just harassing my staff again, bothering them with your paranoid fantasies. I wish you'd stop that. Do you know how hard it was to fill that position? Most of my workers knew you'd most likely harass them."

 

Sally looked at her boss. He was standing with his hands folded before him, looking at his wife with disappointment. "Didn't I tell you to leave my workers alone?"

 

Mrs Hill nodded, and her husband put his hand behind his ear. "I'm sorry? What was that?"

 

His wife swallowed. "Yes, sir."

 

"And what did I promise you if you did it again?"

 

She turned slightly pale, and while her face was turned towards her husband, her eyes were locked on Sally. The message was clear: 'Don't make me say it. Not in front of HER.'

 

Sally was intrigued. Whatever it was, it was clearly embarrassing her.

 

"Elisabeth, what did I promise you?" he said, his tone getting slightly more forceful. Percival Hill was not a large man in anyone's book, but when his eyes turned cold and his tone forceful, he could be very intimidating.

 

"You.... you said you'd give me a spanking, sir."

 

Sally stared at her, mouth open. She must have misheard.

 

"That's right," he said, picking up one of the chairs and moving it to the middle of the room. As he sat down, he looked at his wife. "Come here."

 

She stared at him, then threw her arm out toward Sally. "Please, sir, not in here. She'll see!"

 

"Yes, she will. Considering the way you've treated her, I think that's only fair, don't you?" He turned to Sally. "Unless she doesn't WANT to, of course. What do you say, Sally? Will it offend you to see her getting what's coming?"

 

Normally, if Sally saw some grown woman about to be pulled over someone's knee, getting her bottom spanked, she'd rush to her protection and scream at the brute about to lay his hands on her. Under the circumstances, though, she was having trouble feeling much sympathy. "Not at all, sir. Please, go on," she said with a smile.

 

Mister Hill smiled back, before turning to his wife with a strict look on his face. He patted his lap. "Come here, Elisabeth."

 

On shaking knees, Elisabeth made her way toward him, standing at his right side. Without being prompted, she leaned forward, hands on the floor as she laid down over her husband's lap, her bottom being pushed up by his knee. Sally had a feeling she'd been in this position a few times before.

 

Sally smiled, eagerly leaning forward to watch the show. He had made sure that his wife's bottom was turned towards the secretary, giving her an excellent view of what was going on. How thoughtful of him.

 

He lifted his hand, bringing it down on her skirt-covered bottom with a loud smack. Mrs Hill lay there stoically, determined not to make a fuss in front of the SECRETARY, but as the spanks kept landing, each increasing the burning sensation spreading through her rear, she found herself kicking her legs.

 

"You'll stop bothering my staff," her husband told her calmly as he spanked. "You'll treat everyone with respect. And if you don't, I'll invite every employee I have to watch your next blistering."

 

"You wouldn't!" she gasped., but she didn't sound too sure.

 

"Why don't you behave, and you won't have to find out?" he answered calmly.

 

He lifted her skirt, bringing her black silk panties into view. She kicked her legs a bit, clearly wanting to protest, but scared of the consequences. Her cheeks were turning pink, and Sally found the sight quite appealing. The spanking continued, and Sally grinned as she watched her cheeks bounce under his strict palm. She was crying, but he didn't seem too moved by her tears.

 

And then, once her rear end had started to turn red, came the order. "Elisabeth, I want you to pull your panties down."

 

His wife gasped. Not only would her bottom be bare in front of the watching eyes of the secretary, but she would have to do it herself. "Please, sir, I've learned my lesson."

 

"Obviously not, or I wouldn't have to tell you twice. If your panties aren't pulled down in five seconds, I'm doing it myself, and I'll take my belt off while I'm at it."

 

In a flash, she'd pulled her panties down, and he continued the spanking. She was sobbing loudly as his hard palm rained slaps down on her quivering posterior, kicking her legs wildly.

 

By the time she was finally allowed off his lap, she was a red-faced, red-bottomed, sobbing child of a woman.

 

"I want you to apologize to Sally," he told her. She did so, and it was one of the sincerest apologies Sally had gotten in her life. Only then was the woman allowed to pull her panties back up and lower her skirt, which she did hastily.

 

A few minutes later, Sally was walking home, thinking about what had happened. Her boss had made her promise not to tell anyone. She closed her eyes, picturing the red bottom squirming around, the woman squealing as her husband roasted her hind quarters. Quite an interesting afternoon.

The Tomb (F/F story)

Rose went through the contents of her backpack one last time, just to make sure that everything was there. She'd already looked through it several times before, but carelessness was not her thing. Besides, it gave her something to do, which calmed her nerves, while she waited for the sun to go down. She didn't want to be spotted entering the tomb. That would only lead to questions.

 

In fairness, she really shouldn't be this nervous. She already considered herself an experienced treasure hunter, and this was not her first tomb. She was quick, thorough, and never left a trace that she had been there. But there was something about her current target that made her uneasy. She shook her head, ignoring that little voice at the back of her head. At the moment, that voice was a distraction.

 

Sometimes, she liked to think about the great books that would be written about her in the future, when she was too old to go treasure hunting, and wanted to sell her story. Classics would be written about the young, petite hunter with the fiery red hair, who braved the darkest dungeons. She looked down on her tank-top, and the tight shorts that had once been a tight pair of jeans. In the stories, she would be wearing something a little more glamorous.

 

Her flashlight seemed only to enhance the darkness surrounding her, rather than dispel it. She studied the floor, to see if there were any footprints. If there were, she couldn't find any. That seemed promising. It was unusual to find a non-plundered tomb this close to civilization, and she didn't want to enter the treasury to find it empty. That would be anti-climactic.

 

The hallway was long, but there were few branching ways, so she soon found the burial chamber. That was where the owner of the tomb would be located, along with the best of the loot. She found the coffin, and tried to open the lid; often, the body would carry rings and bracelets that would fetch a pretty good price on the market. No luck. The lid was solid stone, and wouldn't budge. She would need hours to pry it open, and she had no idea if the work was worth it. She decided to leave the coffin until next time and headed further into the tomb.

 

Ten minutes later, she emerged from the inner tomb, struggling under the new weight of her backpack. She'd found a lot more than she could carry, but there was no reason she couldn't come back tomorrow, was there? She sent the coffin a nod, as if to thank the owner of the tomb for her generosity, when she spotted something that froze the blood in her veins.

 

The lid of the coffin was lying on the ground, and the coffin was empty.

 

For a few seconds, she could do nothing but stand there and stare. Slowly, her mental capacities returned to her. She hadn't been mistaken; the lid had been moved. This either meant that someone else had entered the tomb, removed the lid and the corpse in a very short amount of time... or that the owner of the tomb was up and walking again. Either way, she wasn't alone anymore.

 

The darkness of the tomb seemed a lot more intimidating now than it had been on the way in.

 

"Looking for something, child?"

 

Rose spun around, suddenly face to face with a tall, pale woman with a strange smile that made her feel very, very nervous. She was dressed in a long, white robe, with a simple tiara on her head. Her face looked to be about thirty or thereabouts, but the eyes seemed much, much older.

 

Rose noted the fangs, and realized that a real, actual vampire was eyeing her. And she didn't seem like the sparkling, fun kind of vampire, either.

 

"I asked if you were looking for something," the vampire said, taking a step towards her. Rose stepped back as quickly as she could, hoping to keep as much distance between herself and the creature as possible.

 

The vampire laughed. "You don't talk much, do you? What is your name, child?"

 

"I'm not a child," Rose said, more out of reflex than anything else. She was in her early twenties, but painfully aware that she often looked younger.

 

"Is that so?" the creature replied with a grin that made Rose's skin crawl. "There are only two kinds of people that enter my tomb, child. Curious children that want to see if the stories are true, or thieves that come to steal my property. The children are punished, then sent back. The thieves are killed." She placed her hand on Rose's neck, caressing her slightly. "Tell me, are you a curious child? Or a thief?"

 

Rose felt the cold fingers against her skin, and realized that if the vampire was strong enough to lift the stone lid without making a sound, she was more than strong enough to snap her neck with one hand. And she had a feeling that if she didn't do as the vampire wanted, that was exactly what she would do. "I'm a child," she told her, "A child!"

 

"Is that so?" the vampire said, looking down at Rose's backpack, which had fallen to the floor.  She grinned even wider, baring her fangs at her trembling captive. "That does not look like souvenirs taken by a child on adventure. So, tell me. Are you really a child that needs to be punished?"

 

The hungry eyes came closer, and Rose grasped for the only straw she had. "Yes! Yes, I'm a child! A child that should be punished!" she said, backing into the wall. There was nowhere to run, and even if there was, the vampire was faster.

 

The vampire took a step back. "Good. Come here," she said as she stepped towards the coffin. Rose followed her; if she disobeyed the vampire, she was dead, no question about it. If she did as instructed, she might have a small chance.

 

The vampire sat down on an old stone bench, beckoning Rose towards her. "Well, child, I think a good spanking will teach you not to disrupt my sleep again."

 

"A what?" Rose said, astonished.

 

"A spanking," the vampire said calmly. "I'm going to strike your bare bottom with my palm until it's red, warm and stinging. That's still a thing in this century, I trust?"

 

Rose nodded. Ordinarily, she would protest at the prospect of being treated like a child, but this was not an ordinary situation. At the moment, she would have cut off her own legs if she thought it might help her live to see sunlight.

 

Cold fingers reached forward, unbuttoning and unzipping Rose's shorts. The vampire sniffed into the air, tutting as she looked up at Rose. "The child is not even potty-trained." Rose paled as she realized that she had wet herself in fear.

 

"I'm sorry," she said, trembling a bit. If she managed to offend the vampire, she knew it would be the last thing she did.

 

"That's okay," the vampire told her as she pulled her shorts and panties down to the ground, before lifting Rose out of them and placing her over her lap. She started to rub her pale, trembling bottom. "What is your name, child?"

 

"It's Rose, ma'am. Rose Fairwater."

 

"Rose. What a lovely name," she said in an almost friendly tone. "I am Lady Honoria." She stopped rubbing. "I'm afraid that this is going to hurt very much, Rose."

 

Rose cried out as the first smacks landed on her unprotected buttocks, every fibre of her being telling her to move away, but her brain telling her to move as little as possible. She held her head down and cried as the slim, but strong vampire raised her hand again and again, covering her entire bottom with crisp, stinging swats.

 

"Are you learning your lesson, Rose? I'd hate for my efforts to be in vain."

 

"Ow! Yes, Lady – Ow! – Honoria,  I'm – ouch! – sorry for trespassing."

"Good," the vampire said, smiling brightly.

 

Rose was sobbing loudly, completely unaware of the passage of time, or what was happening around her, apart from that everlasting, all-encompassing pain. All her consciousness was focused on those two cheeks, turning redder and redder under that pale, untiring arm.

 

She slowly realized that she was back on her feet, in the vampire's embrace. Lady Honoria was rubbing her back with one hand and her sore cheeks with another, as she whispered calming words into her ear.

 

"Hush, little child. Your punishment is over, you've been forgiven your transgressions." She smiled down at her. "You can go now." The vampire pointed at her backpack. "You can take those things that you brought into my tomb. But a quick warning. If a single item of mine leaves this tomb... I'll know about it." She looked coldly at Rose. "Do you understand?"

 

Rose nodded, too scared to talk.

 

The vampire sniffed in the air. "Take your clothes with you, as well."

 

A few minutes later, Rose exited the tomb, backpack no heavier than when she entered, apart from her shorts and panties, which she'd placed in a side pocket. Partly because she didn't want to put on urine-stained clothes, and partly because she didn't want to put any pressure on her poor bottom just yet.

 

She made her way back to her car, gingerly lowering herself into the seat, grimacing at the pain. Driving back was going to be interesting.

 

She wondered what she was going to do with her time from now on, since treasure hunting was completely out of the question.