A christmas spanking (M/F story)

Nicky glanced around the corner, looking hungrily at the Christmas tree, and even more at the presents beneath. She giggled. A childish sound, but considering that she was currently dressed in a pink pyjamas and had her black hair in pigtails, it was oddly fitting. She felt almost like a child again. And soon, something was going to happen that was going to make her feel even more like a child. She licked her lips. She couldn't wait.

She tiptoed over to the tree, picking out one of the presents and started to open it. She wasn't supposed to open them before tomorrow, but that was OK, she was just going to have a quick peek.

She'd just peeled back the wrapping paper to glance at the CD underneath when a strict voice behind her made her jump three feet in the air. "What do you think you are doing, young lady?"

Greg did his best to put on his strictest face, glaring at his girlfriend as she stood before him, squirming and unable to look him in the eyes. "That was a very naughty thing to do," he said, continuing to lecture her. He considered it quite a good lecture. But then again, with a few variations, he delivered the same lecture every year.

"You're getting a spanking," he said at last. She opened her mouth as if to protest, but a quick glare from him convinced her otherwise. He grabbed her arm, dragging her over to the couch before pulling her over his knee. Her pyjamas bottoms were pulled down to her knees, with her panties following soon afterwards, and he placed his hand on her pale, quivering cheeks.

That was one of their little games; every year, she'd sneak down and peek at her presents, and every year, he'd catch her, lecture her, and spank her. He knew she was reliving something she'd seen in a film, one she'd seen when she was young and impressionable and not quite aware of her spanko desires.

To be honest, he didn't particularly care why she wanted him to do it. All he knew was that it was by far his favourite Christmas tradition.

His hand crashed down on her bottom, and she cried out as the smacks kept landing on her unprotected posterior. Soon, she was kicking her legs, and tears were already rolling down her cheeks. He knew that she reacted much more strongly to her spankings around Christmas, as if the tradition of the whole affair connected to her childhood and made her less prepared for the sting of his hand. She could shrug off hard spankings most of the year, but a spanking under the tree and she was bawling her eyes out.

Not that he was going to go easy on her, of course. She'd never forgive him if he did.

The once-pale cheeks were rapidly turning red under his palm as Nicky squirmed around, and he had to put his hand around her waist to hold her in place. She was sobbing loudly into the pillow, kicking her legs as if trying to run away from the sting.

Then, once he was satisfied with the colour of her bottom, he let her up, giving her a long hug as she sobbed into his shirt. Once she'd calmed down a bit, he guided her over to the corner.

"Nose in the corner," he told her. "If I catch you rubbing, you'll regret it."

He took a second to enjoy the sight of the bright red bottom in the corner before heading into the kitchen to start breakfast. He was already looking forward to watching her squirm around in her seat as she sat down to eat, knowing he wouldn't let her eat it standing up.

Helping the exchange student (M/F story)

I was sitting on my room, most of my attention focused on the PlayStation, when I heard the car start and my parents drive off for their night on the town. Moments later, Clarissa entered my room, sitting cross-legged beside me on the bed with a look on her face that revealed that she wanted someone to complain to.

“They said no, once again,” she said as she pouted. Shaking her head, she looked at me. “Tom, I just don't know why your parents won't spank me.”

Clarissa was a foreign exchange student, two years older than me, that had lived with us for a little less than a month now. She was doing well in school, but last week, she'd gotten a test she hadn't been quite prepared for, and her grade had matched that. But when she got home with it, she'd asked my parents to spank her. She told us she'd always been disciplined like that at home, and she had expected the same arrangement here – a quick, painful punishment to wipe the slate and teach her a lesson at the same time. My parents were shocked; they'd never spanked me or my sister, though they'd given us the occasional smack when we were unruly, and they certainly weren't planning on using corporal punishment on the teenager that was staying here. But she'd had trouble taking 'no' for an answer.

“Who knows?” I said, trying to be vague. Ever since she'd brought the subject up to my parents, the mental image of the cute girl bare-bottomed over someone's lap, her backside wriggling under the firm smacks delivered to it, had taken up a sizeable portion of my thoughts, and I found it somewhat distracting. To stop myself from saying anything too inappropriate, I focused my attention on the PlayStation game instead.

“Can I join?” she asked, nodding towards the TV.

“Sure,” I said. The other controller was lying on the floor on the other side of the bed, so she bent over, her head down towards the floor while her voluptuous rear end in tight jeans was turned towards me. Once again, my mind was off the PlayStation. I felt an overpowering urge to lean forward and give the inviting target a good slap or two.

“You know, I would be happy to give that butt a good spanking,” I found myself saying before I could stop myself.

She spun around to face me, gasping, and I winced, expecting a firm slap to the face. But instead, after a few terrifying seconds, she smiled. “That's a good idea,” she said. “Would you do that for me?”

Now it was my turn to stare in shock. 'That's a good idea' was not the reaction I'd expected from that comment, but the relieved look on her face told me that she was completely serious. “Would you really give me the spanking I need?” she asked me, seeming worried that I might say no. There was very little chance of THAT happening. When life presents you with an opportunity like this, you grab it, so I nodded.

She stood up, looking around. “Where do you want me?” It was quite clear that she wanted to start right away.

I was by no means an expert in this subject, but had a rough idea from popular culture, so I sat on the edge of the bed and patted my lap. “Over my knee, Clarissa.”

Instead of simply placing herself over my lap, as I had thought, she instead started to unzip her jeans, wriggling them town to her hips. It was clear that she didn't want a few slaps to the seat of her jeans – she was expecting a proper spanking. I wasn't entirely sure how to deliver that, but I was going to have a lot of fun experimenting.

She placed herself over my lap, her head on my pillow and her backside on my thigh, and my eyes feasted on the round, pale cheeks that were presented, only protected by thin pair of white cotton panties. I could feel my erection was rubbing up against her stomach, but she didn't comment – hopefully, she hadn't noticed.

I placed my right hand on her cheek, enjoying the soft flesh against my palm, before lifting it and delivering the first smack. The sound rang out in the silent room, and for a brief moment, I could see the pink imprint of my hand on her rear end, before it vanished. I lifted my hand again, delivering a dozen more smacks, but Clarissa neither moved nor made a sound. This was probably going to take a while, and I was going to love every second.

I soon felt into a rhythm, spanking one cheek, then the next, delivering about two slaps a second. Soon, she gave the occasional “ouch” every time my hand landed on her sit spots, and her posterior was slowly turning a delightful shade of pink.

After a while, I rested my hand on her backside, rubbing and squeezing it gently. I was unsure of how much discipline she was expecting, and I didn't want to test my luck too much – if possible, I would love to do this again another time, and I couldn't do that if she didn't trust me.

She whimpered. “Tom, you don't HAVE to pull my panties down for the rest! I'm learning my lesson, I promise.”

Once again, I had to thank my lucky stars. She thought I had just paused the spanking to lower her panties, and, while that hadn't been my intention, now it was all I could think about. “Can you tell me that you don't deserve a bare-bottom punishment?” Her only response was a whimper, so I placed my thumbs in the waistband of the cotton panties, and they joined her jeans at her ankles.

As I continued the spanking, she kept her legs pressed firmly against one another, probably to ensure that I didn't see more of her than I needed, but soon, the pain that was slowly building up in her backside made her kick her legs, giving me ample flashes of everything.

“I hope you're learning your lesson from this,” I said, as strictly as I could. I had never lectured anyone before, but I was learning fast. “You're capable of doing so well in school, and I know we can expect more from you. I don't want to do this again.” That last part was a lie, but I felt that 'I want to do this every day for the rest of my life' wouldn't be as appropriate for a spanking lecture.

Tears were rolling down her cheeks now, and she looked really sorry. After a few last smacks to her sit spots, I stopped the spanking, rubbing her cheeks to let her know that she was forgiven. Her backside was now bright pink, almost turning red, and I had a feeling that she wouldn't sit comfortably for a while.

She sat up, giving me a hug as she thanked me for being there for her when she needed me. I told her that I would help her anytime she needed me, but that she shouldn't say anything about this to anyone, least of all my parents – this was a private punishment, and not anyone else's business. She agreed to keep quiet.

Rising to her feet, she pulled her panties up, and then looked at her trousers. Knowing that the tight jeans would be hell on her sore bottom, she instead chose to step out of them, folding them up and placing them on my desk.

Drying the last tears from the corners of her eyes, she nodded towards the television. “You died.”

I looked at the screen. She was right – I hadn't paused the game. And for the last few minutes, my mind had been focused on something quite different than the PlayStation.

“Two-player?” she suggested as she sat next to me, picking up the second controller.

“Sure,” I said. Though considering that she was sitting on a freshly-spanked backside, and that I was sitting next to a shapely, good-looking girl with no trousers on, I don't think we focused as much on the game as we normally would.

Unexpected (F/M story)

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

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

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

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

"Name it," he told her.

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

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

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

There was no real choice there.

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

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

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

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

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

She patted her lap. "Come here."

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

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

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

He kicked his legs a little.

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

"But it hurts!"

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

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

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

He blushed. There was no denying it.

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

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

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

The Skirt (M/F story)

I leaned my head back, letting the hot sunlight wash over me, basking in its glow. It was a hot spring day, and I was heading down-town; my girlfriend had finished work for today, and I wanted to surprise her by taking her to the cinema. We would find a small café, enjoying a coffee as we enjoyed the beautiful day.

But for some reason, things rarely go the way you want them to.

As I neared the small shop were Jessica worked, a young woman exited the shop. A short brunette, wearing high heels, a tight blouse and a short, pink skirt that left very little to the imagination. That was Jessica. The problem was, those clothes didn't even resemble the clothes she had left the house in this morning.

She didn't see me, as she was heading for the parking lot, and I had approached the shop from the other side. I followed her closely, my anger rising every second. When she got close to the car, she dropped some of the papers she was carrying to the ground, and she slowly bent over to pick them up, making the short skirt rise even higher. Her white panties were now on display to everyone in the street, and I had lost my patience. I lifted my hand and smacked the exposed cheeks.

Jessica yelped and spun around, ready to slap whomever was taking liberties with her. When she saw my angry face, however, her indignation was replaced with fear and a bit of guilt. She rubbed her rear with one hand while she looked around, hoping that no one had witnessed what had just happened. No such luck. Some girls were looking at us from a few streets away, and a teenager across the street was studying us with a grin on his face.

“We're going home,” I told her. And that was the end of the conversation. She knew she was in trouble, she knew what I was going to do, and she knew there was nothing she could say or do to persuade me, so she just nodded. We headed over to her car, and she handed me the keys. Most of the time, Jessica would drive wherever we were going, but prior to a punishment, I was in charge in any way. As I got into the car, I glanced into the back seat and saw the clothing that she had worn when she left the house. She had obviously changed in the car. She was devious, I would have to give her that.

When we got home, I told her to go stand in the corner in the living-room. She knew better than to argue. I headed up to the bedroom to collect something. When I got back to the living-room, I was delighted to see Jessica stand in the corner, hands on her head, just as she was supposed to before a punishment. I put the item I had collected, down on the coffee table. I then sat down in the couch, studying the grown woman in the corner. I let her stand there for fifteen minutes before I called her over.

When Jessica turned around, the first thing she saw was the small ping-pong paddle on the table. Her pleading eyes turned to me, but I waved at her to stand next to me. I then asked her what I was about to do to her.

“You're going to turn me over your knee and spank me.” She said it as calmly as she could, but I could see the nervousness in her eyes.

“And why is that?” She hated these pre-spanking questions, which was the main reason I asked them. The other reason was that I really wanted her to know exactly why I was spanking her. If she didn't, the whole thing was ineffective, not to mention cruel.

“Because I dressed provocatively,” she replied, still trying to keep her voice steady.

“That's not the issue, Jessica,” I told her. “You're a grown woman, and my problem isn't the short skirt or anything like that.  My problem is that you hid it, you pretended to dress differently. In essence, you lied to me. You acted like a child, and that's why I'm treating you like one.” I patted my lap to signal that the conversation was over. She slowly leaned over, laying her body across the couch and burrowing her face in the cushions, and I flipped the short skirt up.

I started the spanking slowly, but the smacks were hard, and Jessica was “Ow”-ing at every single one. I didn't lecture her; the time for talking was over. I just lifted my hand and brought it down on the panty-covered cheeks in front of me.

Gradually the speed of the spanking increased, and soon, tears were silently rolling down her face, wetting the cushions. Her cheeks had by now turned lightly pink, and I concentrated on her sit spots. She started kicking her legs, and it was clear that she found it very uncomfortable.

I spanked on until her bottom was a light pink colour, warm and presumably stinging like crazy. I rubbed her bottom slightly, before I started taking off her skirt. I then put the skirt in front of her face.

“See that skirt? Your bare bottom is about to be that pink.” I pulled off her panties and picked up the ping-pong paddle. Jessica buried her face in the cushion again to prepare herself for what was to come.

I stepped up the spanking now, moving the paddle from cheek to cheek as quickly as possible. Jessica was sobbing loudly, promising me the world if I would spare her bottom. I didn't. I moved the paddle up and down her bottom, moving to the sit spots, painting her entire rear a deep pink.

When I was satisfied that her bottom was as pink as I had promised her, I put the paddle down and sat her on my lap. She leaned her head into my chest, crying into my shirt.

When she stopped crying, she rose to her feet, rubbing her bottom while glancing over her shoulder to look at the pink colour. I stood up, placed my arms around her and gave her a kiss.

“Now Jessica, do you know what I was doing down-town today?” She shook her head. “I wanted to know if you wanted to go to a café and sit and enjoy the sun.” I pointed out the window. “There's still time if you want.”

She smiled warmly at me, safe in the knowledge that she was forgiven. “Sure, let me just dry my tears and pick up a skirt.”

“There's one right here,” I pointed out.

She grimaced at me. “I don't think I want to show off my bottom right now, thanks.”

I smiled.

What's it like (f/f story)

Catherine hissed as she sat down, her sore bottom telling her to remain standing.

"Spanked again, huh?" Diane asked her.

"Yes," Catherine replied, her tone revealing she didn't want to talk about it.

Diane either didn't catch it, or didn't care. "What for?"

"Grades."

The girls were in Diane's room, planning to watch TV for a few hours, thinking of going shopping later – more or less the average fourteen-year-old girls.

"Mom or dad?"

"Dad."

"Did he use his hand?"

"Brush." Catherine was still telling her wordlessly that she didn't want to talk about it, and Diane was still not getting it.

"Did it hurt?"

"What do you think!?" she yelled.

"Don't be so upset, I was just asking," Diane said, wounded at the tone in her friend's voice.

"Well, I don't want to talk about it," Catherine said, realizing that Diane wasn't going to get her poorly disguised hints.

"It's just, you know, I'm curious."

"I know."

"Because I've never been spanked."

"I know," Catherine said bitterly.

For a few seconds, neither of them said anything. Diane broke the silence. "Can I see it?"

"What?"

"Your bottom. Can I see it?"

Catherine sighed. She had hoped a visit to Diane would take her mind AWAY from her sore bottom. "Okay, if it'll make you stop hounding me." She laid on her stomach on the bed, raising her skirt. She never wore trousers after a spanking.

As she lowered her panties, she heard Diane gasping. She turned her head around. It really did look quite awful, red and bruised as it was. "Happy now? Can I get dressed?"

"Not yet."

Catherine sighed. What had gotten into her friend? Diane reached forward, prodding the marked flesh with her finger. Catherine hissed in pain.

"It must be really sore," Diane said finally.

"Really? I hadn't noticed," Catherine said, her voice dripping with sarcasm.

"There's no reason to be rude."

"Yes there is! My grades are horrible, my parents are angry with me, my butt hurts like crazy, and my best friend, who SHOULD be keeping me distracted, can't focus on anything other than my spanked bottom."

"I was just asking."

Catherine rose to her feet, getting dressed again. "Well, don't."

"I just wanted you to tell me what a spanking feels like. I've never had one, and I'm curious."

"I could always give you one, that'll satisfy your curiosity," Catherine replied.

"Would you? That would be great!"

Catherine stood there for a while, with her mouth wide open. She studied Diane's expression for any clue that she might be joking, but she found nothing. "You're serious? You want me to spank you?"

"Yeah. Come on, it's perfect. I'm curious, and you've had so many of them, you probably know how to give one too."

"Well, I'm glad my agony can be of use to you. That makes it all worth it," she said, sarcasm so thick you could cut it with a knife.

"Aw, come on, Catherine, don't be like that." She pouted.

"Well, you're being loopier than usual, but I'll humour you. First, make sure your parents aren't home."

"Why?"

"Because if they hear what's going on, and come running, they'll tell my parents, and my dad will probably use his belt on me," she said, slowly, as if talking to an unusually stupid dog. "I don't want the belt. It hurts."

"They're at work. They won't be home for hours."

Catherine pointed at the door. "Go. Check. Make ABSOLUTELY SURE." As Diane turned to leave, Catherine propelled her with a smack to the seat of her skirt. Given the situation, it felt oddly appropriate. Diane giggled, and left.

She came back a few minutes later. "No one's home."

"You're absolutely sure? Because if I get in trouble because of this, I won't speak to you again." She glared at her friend. "EVER!"

"You won't get in trouble for this, I promise."

Catherine sighed. "Well, no time like the present."

"And you'll give me a spanking? A REAL spanking, like the ones you get?"

"As close as I can." She opened Diane's backpack, pulling out her pencil case.

"What are you looking for?" Diane asked, leaning forward quizzically.

"This," she replied, holding up a small, but sturdy wooden ruler, smacking it against her palm.

"To use as an implement?"

"No, I really wanted to know how long my hand was. OF COURSE I'll use it as an implement!" She sat down on the bed, hissing as her bottom touched it, and patted her lap. "Now, lie down here."

She made sure Diane was lying comfortably on the bed before raising her skirt. As she took hold of her panties, ready to pull them down, Diane turned her head to look at her. "Is it really necessary to pull my panties down?"

"Well, let's see. They're called BARE-bottom spankings, what do you think?" She didn't wait for a reply, just pulled them down and revealed the pale, white cheeks of her un-spanked friend.

"Are you ready for this?"

"Sure. How bad could it be?"

Catherine left the ruler on the bed, saving it for later as she lifted her hand. She made sure the first few smacks were light, easing her friend into what was going to happen. Still, Diane made little "ooh"s and "aah"s, not used to stinging slaps on her posterior.

Gradually, the smacks became harder and harder, and Diane's bottom was slowly turning pink. At one point, Diane turned to look at her spanker, and Catherine was sure she could see tears in her eyes, but she was still smiling.

Soon, Catherine felt it was time to use the ruler. She picked up the small implement and patted it against her palm. "Ready for the next part of your spanking?"

"That wasn't it?"

"No, Diane. That was a warm-up, to make you ready for the ruler. This little thing, remember?"

Diane eyed it suspiciously, suddenly a lot less fond of it.

"Now, are you ready?"

"Sure, I guess."

The sound of the hard ruler against soft flesh rang out in the room. It didn't seem to hurt as much as the brush Catherine was familiar with, but it was a lot quicker, and the initial sting when it landed seemed quite convincing. After a minute or so, Diane was wriggling around like crazy.

Catherine put an arm around her friend's waist to keep her in place. "You know, you're a lot harder to hit if you won't lay still."

"But it hurts," she whined.

"I've been telling you that for years, but you've never quite believed me."

The once-pale bottom had begun to turn red, and tears were rolling down her cheeks before Diane asked her friend to stop. Deciding that it wasn't quite enough yet, Catherine added a dozen stinging slaps before letting her friend to her feet.

Diane stood for a while, rubbing her sore bottom before stepping over to the full-length mirror on the other wall. She turned around, studying her bottom in the mirror, and her face fell. When she turned towards Catherine, it was with betrayal in her eyes. "You lied to me!"

Catherine was rapidly running out of patience. "What?"

"You said you'd give me a real spanking, like the ones you get, but my bottom's nowhere as red as yours."

"I stopped because you TOLD me to stop. You've never been spanked before, but I have. You can't take one of my spankings."

"You don't know that. A TRUE friend would have kept her promise and kept going."

Diane was in no way the sharpest tool in the shed, but even she could tell she had gone too far by the look in Catherine's eyes. Diane tried to run past, but Catherine grabbed her wrist and pulled her over to the bed. Sitting down, she placed her struggling friend over her knees, caught her legs between her own, and held her arms out of the way. Diane was completely incapable of escaping from her stronger friend's lock, and Catherine was going to take advantage of that.

As she lifted the ruler over the quivering bottom under her, Catherine was determined to show her inexperienced friend what a real spanking was. For the first few smacks, all Diane could do was gasp in open-mouthed horror, all air driven from her body, and she forgot to scream until the fifteenth or sixteenth stroke.

As the spanking continued, Diane screamed, she pleaded, she cried, she threatened, and when all else failed, she apologized. Through her tears, he told her friend how sorry she was, how her eyes had been opened and she now realized Catherine's torment, and how she really, really, really wanted her to stop now. But all of it fell on deaf ears.

Catherine was working out her frustration on her friend's bare, defenceless bottom. Frustration after years of her best friend making light of her punishment, years of being friends with a privileged, spoiled brat who was never punished for her pranks, never had to be told to go to her room and wait with the big, heavy, brutal brush in her hands. Never had to be Catherine.

Finally, her friend's tears broke through her rage, and Catherine felt spent and shameful in a way she never had before. It took several minutes before Diane noticed that Catherine was no longer spanking her, but stroking her back to calm her down. When her sobbing was back under control, Diane rose to her feet.

"It huuuuurts," she cried as she jumped from foot to foot, wanting to rub her butt, but too afraid of touching it to do so.

"A real spanking. Just like you wanted," Catherine said quietly. She led her friend over to the mirror, turning her around so that she could see her bottom. "Look."

Diane looked, and gasped as she saw how red it was. That was her. The girl in the mirror with the big, red, throbbing bottom, that was her. Just like she had wanted.

"And look at this." Catherine flipped up her skirt and lowered her panties, standing next to her friend to compare. Their bottoms were more or less equally red and marked.

"I got a real spanking, just like you!" Diane said proudly. Catherine didn't have the heart to tell her that quite a lot of her redness had vanished since her hours-ago spanking.

"Catherine? I'm sorry." She didn't say anything else. She didn't have to.

"I know. I'm sorry too," Catherine said as she hugged her best friend.

"So what do you think," Catherine said as they sat down on the bed and turned on the television. "How was your first spanking?"

"It hurts. A lot," she pouted. She bit her lip nervously, as if she had more to say, but was afraid to do so. After a minute or so, she turned to her friend.

"Catherine? Can we do this again some time? Only not as... much," she hastened to clarify.

Catherine thought long and hard about this. That last spanking had brought out something dark and harmful within her, something that should perhaps stay buried. But before that.... when it was just two friends, playing around with a ruler, having fun...

"Sure, Diane. I'd like that, "she said and smiled at her friend.

They turned toward the television again.

Asking for a punishment (M/f story)

Kate had no idea how long she had been standing outside her older brother's door, too afraid to open the door and walk in. She was scared, and she felt she had good reason to be. She lifted her hand towards the door handle, and watched it tremble and fall to her side again. She was going to go into his room and tell him she wanted a spanking.

Well, wanted was not the right word. She had hated every single spanking she had ever gotten, and she didn't think she would feel any different about this one. They hurt, and they caused her to cry, nto mention how humiliating it was to have your older brother pull you over his knee and bare your bottom, before slapping it for a long, long, LONG time.

And she was about to go and ask for it. She really needed her head examined.

She noticed that she had opened the door and stepped into his room. Rich looked up from his book, and she could see he became quite worried when he saw how pale and nervous she was. "What's wrong?"

"I..." she said, but trailed off. She took a deep breath and tried again. "I'm not sure how to say it, but I think I need a spanking."

A few seconds passed as he just looked at her. He nodded towards the bed. "Sit down and tell me all about it."

She sat down. She choked on her words, so he sat down next to her and put his hand on her shoulder. She smiled gratefully at him. He always knew how to calm her down when she was upset.

Rich was feeling quite unsettled. He knew his sister could be quite melodramatic, and that this was probably not a serious, dangerous problem, put the possibility was there, and he didn't like it. "What's wrong?"

"You know Clarissa, right?"

"That dark-haired friend of yours?" he answered.

She nodded. "That's the one. The thing is, last week I borrowed one her CDs. One that she really, really liked."

He felt his heart rate decrease. If this was about a CD, then thankfully, it wasn't serious. "And?"

"Well, I was trying to get it out of the case when I kind of, sort of, accidentally... broke it."

"Have you told your friend?"

She nodded. "I told her yesterday, yeah. She got really upset, and said she would never speak to me again."

He tried to hide his smile. Kate and her friends told each other that just about once a week, and they always acted as if it was the end of the world. "So, how are you feeling?"

"Guilty," she responded. "I broke her favourite CD. My stomach hurts, and I can't stop thinking about it." She looked at him. "That's why I came here. I want you to remove the guilt."

"Which is why you asked for a spanking," he offered.

"Yeah," she said, blushing slightly. "Whenever I screw up, I feel really bad about it. Then you spank me, and it's like all my guilt vanishes. My butt hurts, sure, but my stomach doesn't. My head doesn't. My heart doesn't."

He nodded. "I see. Let me ask you a question. Do you remember a few months back, when you got caught shoplifting?"

She blushed. "Yes."

"When I got you home, what did I do?"

She blushed even deeper. "You pulled me over your knee and spanked my butt really, really hard," she said, pouting a little.

"And more importantly, what did you promise me?"

She thought back. "That I would never, ever earn another spanking," she said after a few seconds.

"And now you're in my room, asking for one."

"I told you, I feel really guilty," she said, squirming.

"You know what else will remove that guilt? You know what else will make you feel good about yourself?"

She shook her head.

"Apologizing. Why don't you call your friend and tell her that you're sorry? You must know how phones work; you never seem to put the darn thing down."

"What if she still hates me? What if she won't forgive me?"

He shrugged his shoulders. "That's what you already think, right? No harm done. On the other hand, if she IS willing to forgive you, then everything is fine. Worth a shot, right?"

She sat for a while, thinking. What he was saying, made sense. She could try calling Clarissa and apologizing. Why not?

"I can't," she told him. "I just can't. I'm too scared."

He sighed. "Look," he told her. "It was brave of you to come here and ask me for punishment. It was brave of you to admit you had done wrong. Now, I want you to use some of that bravery to call her."

She shook her head.

"If I spank you, that won't fix your CD OR your friendship. You'll still be sitting here worrying about your friend, but you'll do it with a sore bottom. Calling her won't fix your CD either, but it might fix the friendship."

She still shook her head. "Please," she said. "Just do it."

He sighed. "All right," he said. "If you really want me to spank you, go and get the bath brush."

Her face turned pale, and her eyes widened. "The brush? Can't you just spank me with your hand? Please, Rich, I don't like the brush. It stings like crazy."

"I won't do this unless I really believe you want it, Kate." He nodded towards the door. "Now, go out that door, and don't come back unless you're carrying either the brush or your phone."

He watched her get up on shaking knees and leave the room. She never seemed to remember just how much spankings hurt, just how much she cried while she was over his knee, just how earnestly she pleaded for the spanking could stop. He, on the other hand, could.

She entered the door, clutching the brush with both hands as if she was afraid it would fly up and attack her. He knew he hated it when she used that thing on her. It wouldn't be a good punishment tool if she didn't.

She handed him the brush, and he sat up on the bed, patting his lap. "Get those jeans down and get over here."

She started to pull down her tight jeans, wriggling her hips back and forth to get them down. Underneath, she was wearing a pair of light blue panties. Slowly, she stepped forward and leaned over his lap. He pulled her forward, positioning her to make sure her bottom was as high up as he could get it.

"A quick warm-up over your panties before I use the brush," he told her as he lifted his hand. "Unless you'd rather have the phone call?"

She shook her head, and he started the spanking.

Kate cried out as the first smacks landed against her bottom. She thought she'd been ready, but she wasn't. She never was.

Rich spanked hard and fast, moving from to cheek to cheek in a flurry of smacks. He preferred to get these punishments over with quickly; he didn't want to spank her any longer than necessary. "I want you to think about why you're being spanked, Kate. You've been careless with other people's possessions, and you're paying the price for it now."

She just whimpered, her head against the bed.

Before long, her bottom had turned a light pink, and he decided the warm-up was over. He pulled down her panties, rubbing her bottom to relieve some of the sting. He picked up the brush, patting it against her bottom.

"Are you ready for this?"

"Yes, Rich," she said, even though her voice revealed just how untrue that really was.

She cried out as the brush whistled through the air, slamming into her poor, unprotected bottom. Again and again, the brush landed, causing her to kick her legs and cry out with every stroke.

Before long, tears were rolling down her cheeks, and her bottom felt like it was being lit on fire. The pain was unbearable.

Rich listened to her sister's cries, and they cut deep. He didn't want to do this. He wanted to hold her, to comfort her, to tell her she was forgiven, but he couldn't. Not yet.

The cheeks in front of him turned from pink to red, and they were turning crimson when she arched her back, letting out a sob that sounded like it came from the deep parts of her soul. She began crying uncontrollably, and he knew he had broken through to her. The punishment was over. He could finally put the brush down.

He lifted his sister up in his arms, letting her cry into his shoulder as he sat on the bed, rubbing her back and whispering to her that everything was fine, she was forgiven, and the punishment was over.

When she had calmed down a bit, he laid her down on the bed, letting her rest. She fell asleep almost instantly, clutching the pillow like a teddy bear. She was a strange sight, lying on her stomach with her bare, red rear poking up into the air like that, but even the light touch of her panties would be too much on her well-punished bottom right now.

Of course, since she was currently sleeping on his bed, he would have to find some other place to read his book, but that was a small problem.

About an hour and a half later, a squealing teenager ran out to hug him.

"I'm guessing you've phoned Clarissa," he told her.

"Yup. She said I was forgiven, if I replace the CD as soon as I can afford it. I'm going over to her place, and we're going to hang out."

She'd replaced her tight jeans with a skirt, but she still couldn't stop herself from reaching back and robbing her sore bottom as she spoke.

"Well, behave, won't you? I don't want to use the bath brush again any time soon," he said as he swatted her backside.

She pouted. "Don't worry. I don't want that either."

Sweet-cheeks (F/F story)

Most of Christine’s day was as normal as any other. She had gotten up early in the morning, taken a quick shower, eaten a light breakfast, and given her half-asleep girlfriend Dana a quick kiss on the cheek on her way out the door. After that, she had spent many hours in her office, working overtime on the new project. The clock was six in the evening, it was already beginning to get dark, and soon, her workday would be over. By all accounts, a relatively normal day. What Christine didn’t know, was that it was about to become abnormal.

It started with a phone call from Dana. Dana was a tall blonde who always craved excitement. For the past five years, she had been the love of Christine’s life. And now, she had that mischievous tone in her voice she always had when she realized that excitement wasn’t coming, so she had to find it herself.

"Hey, how’s it going, Sweet-cheeks?"

Christine could feel her face blushing with embarrassment already. "Sweet-cheeks" was their own little codeword. When Dana used that nickname on her, it meant one thing, and one thing only. Dana wanted to play. And Christine discovered that so did she.

"The day is over soon. I’ll be home as soon as I can," she said. She couldn’t wait to get home to her girlfriend, for a quick hug, a long kiss and an even longer trip over her knee.

"No, don’t. I’ll come over, just wait in your office."

Christine frowned. Dana had never been in her office before. She had driven her to work and picked her up a couple of times, but she had never been inside. What did she want? And why has she used the codeword? Suddenly, with a jolt, she put two and two together. She exclaimed, a hint of desperation creeping into her voice: "Dana, you can’t! You can’t mean to…"

Dana cut her off. "I can, and I do. I’ll be over in half an hour. By then, you will have taken off your panties and placed them in your drawer. You will flip up that short, sexy skirt you’re wearing, and place that delicious bottom on your chair. You will sit there, feeling the seat on your naked bottom, thinking about how hot I will make your rear end tonight, and how hard sitting down will be tomorrow. Now, if you fail to do ANY of this, there will be consequences."

They ended the call. With a sigh, Christine rose to her feet, deciding to do as Dana had said. She was just glad that the building would be empty soon, as the last stragglers went home.

As she slipped off the small, white panties she always wore, Christine stopped to let her hands run over her bottom, thinking about what was about to happen. Christine smiled as she thought about her nickname. Sweet-cheeks. Christine didn’t like to brag, but she knew that the nickname was well chosen. She had a very cute bottom. Smooth and white, curvy, without being too fat, she had more than once been complimented on her derriere by her significant others. But none had shown as much interest in it as Dana.

When they first started dating, Christine had been surprised at how interested Dana was in her bottom. She let her gaze linger on it in public, and outright stared during more private moments. She let her hands run over it as often as she could, she grabbed it, pinched it, and a couple of times even slapped it. Christine had wondered why her bottom held such an interest to her.

Then came the day when Dana came forward with her unusual interest. The tall blonde, normally so fearless, outspoken and calm, was nervous. She moved her hands around, not sure where to place them, she stared down, unable to meet her lover’s gaze, and even stuttered at one point. She told her about her interest in spanking, an interest she had held for as long as she could remember. She told her about the others, the ones she had approached, who had been disgusted and left. She told her that she wanted to take Christine over her lap and spank those bare buttocks until they were red and sore.

Christine had been surprised, to put it mildly, but she decided that it was worth trying it at least once. It had hurt, that was true, but it was also strangely arousing, and the sex afterwards was the best she ever had. So she decided to try it again. And again. And again.

The next thing she knew, spanking had become an important part of their relationship. They had implements, a few costumes, and even the codeword.

"Sweet-cheeks", Christine mumbled to herself as she rubbed her bottom, standing in her office, waiting for her girlfriend. She shook her head, trying to wake up from the memories. If she was still standing there, out of position, when Dana arrived, there would be consequences. Christine had defied her girlfriend once before, and she did not want to repeat that mistake.

"Hey, Sweet-cheeks," Dana said as she gave her girlfriend a long kiss. Dana’s right hand went back to squeeze Christine's bared bottom, to ensure that she had followed her commands, to remind her of what was to come, and because she really wanted to. In her left hand, Dana held a shopping bag.

Satisfied that her commands had been followed to the letter, Dana opened the shopping bag and pulled out a paddle. It was a foot long, made of sturdy wood. It was polished by long use, and looked rather intimidating. Christine’s eyes grew wide as saucers.

"Where did you get that?" she whispered.

"I found it today in a garage sale. It was just lying there, lonely, so I knew I had to buy it. After all, we don’t have a paddle at home." That was true. They had a wooden spoon, an old leather belt, a big wooden hairbrush, and a riding crop, but no paddle. Dana held the paddle up, swinging it through the air a few times, listening to it whistling through the air. "Now I think it’s time for a certain naughty girl to bend over her desk."

Christine shook her head. "You can’t spank me HERE! Someone will hear!"

"Everyone’s gone home. It’s just you and me here," Dana replied with a grin.

"Well, they will see us!" Christine pointed towards the large windows, showing a large portion of the city. And revealing to most of the city what was going on inside.

"Yes. They will." Dana smiled as she looked over the darkening sky, the tall buildings as the lights appeared in the windows. "Think about it. Look at that sight. Dozens of buildings, hundreds of windows. You will never meet one of them. But if any of them should happen to see our way, they will remember what they see this day. They will remember us."

"Exactly! If we should happen to meet one of them, I’ll die from embarrassment!"

Dana laughed. "They’re too far away. Besides, Sweet-cheeks, if any one of them looks at your FACE, they have the wrong priorities." Christine blushed furiously. "Anyway, consider it our gift to the city."

Christine walked over to her desk, facing away from the windows. She flipped up the skirt as high as she could, revealing her flawless orbs. Dana, unable to help herself, let her hands run over them, pinching and squeezing. Christine shuddered with a mixture of light pain, strong anticipation, and burning desire. She could hear Dana pick up the paddle and lifting it in the air.

With a light smack, the first stroke landed. Dana looked at Christine’s bottom, still white as snow, and from her complete lack of reaction, it was clear that the first stroke was too light. Now, she had to find out how hard was hard enough. She was looking forward to it.

Again, the paddle landed, this time much harder. Christine threw her head up, biting her lip not to cry out. She knew the building was empty, but all the same, she feared someone would hear.

Another stroke. It was a strange sensation, thought Christine. Unlike their other implements, this could take both cheeks in one stroke, evening out the pain all over her bottom.

Wood whistling through the air met soft buttocks, and Christine let a small "Owiee!" escape her lips. Dana smiled. Christine made the cutest noises during a spanking. It made you just want to cuddle her. Or spank her some more, to keep the noises coming. Dana often chose the latter.

Another stroke, and Christine was shocked to discover she already had tears in her eyes. Normally, she could hold out much longer. But the paddle, hitting both cheeks, not letting one rest, was different. As the next stroke landed, she realized she liked it.

SMACK! "Ow, ow, ow," Christine complained. More of those adorable noises. Dana smiled. Her girlfriend was the cutest thing ever.

Another stroke. Dana realized that she was wet. As she held the paddle aloft, she saw that Christine was as well. That was good. If Christine didn’t enjoy their games, they would have to change them. But it was clear she liked this game.

As another stroke landed, Dana was already looking forward to discarding the paddle and ravishing her girlfriend. She began to think about kissing that sore bottom all better, licking every part of her girlfriend’s body that she could reach, climbing on top of her as her sore bottom was pressed into the bed, or the table, or whatever they were on at the time, producing more of those cute little yelps.

After the sound of the smack had echoed out, Dana started rubbing her girlfriend’s back. "How are you feeling, Sweet-cheeks?"

"Strange. It burns, but it’s a good burn. How many was that?"

"Ten," Dana replied as she lowered her hand, rubbing her girlfriend’s sore bottom. "Do you want to go home now?"

"Not yet. How about ten more?"

Dana stared at her in amazement. Christine had never requested MORE punishment. "Sweet-cheeks, your bottom is already sore. I don’t think you can take another ten strokes."

"Please, Dana," Christine said as she turned her head, her hair tussled, her eyes slightly red from crying. "Please. Ten more."

Dana picked up the paddle again.

Another stroke, as Dana watched the cute bottom flatten with the stroke of the paddle, before popping back out. She was already very red, and Dana wondered how her bottom would look at the end of the paddling.

The next stroke was hard. Dana wanted Christine to realize that ten strokes on an already sore bottom was too much. As Dana stood there, paddle in hand, waiting for a response, Christine turned her head, not saying anything, but the message in her eyes was clear as day. "Please continue."

As the next stroke landed, Christine cried out in pain. But Dana realized that it was a good cry, a cry of pleasure as much as from pain. She smiled. If she had not had the courage to talk to Christine that fateful day, or if Christine had been too weirded out to try, as all the others, they wouldn’t have this.

Another stroke, and Christine let out more of the cute little yelping noises. Dana felt herself growing wetter.

The next stroke was to the sit spots, and Christine wondered briefly how she would sit down at all tomorrow. Her entire bottom was stinging, and she knew it would keep doing that.

At the next stroke, both of Christine’s legs flew up as she tried to kick the pain away. She didn’t, but it felt good to try.

Another stroke, and Christine gripped the end of the desk so hard that her knuckles turned white. She wondered how her bottom looked. Probably not very good. It felt even worse. And at the same time, it felt wonderful.

The paddle landed again, and Christine cried out "I’m sorry!" She knew she didn’t have anything to be sorry about, it was just reflex, but she did it anyway.

The last stroke landed, and immediately, Dana pulled her girlfriend into a hug. As Christine, her own little Sweet-cheeks, cried into her shoulder, Dana rubbed her back. They stood there, in the office, just hugging, for about fifteen minutes. Neither of them said anything. They didn’t need to.

As they left the office, to go home to a night of passion, Dana asked if they should leave the paddle at the desk. "I’m sure your colleagues will find a use for it," she said as she let her hand wander under Christine’s skirt, rubbing her sore, panty-less bottom. Christine didn’t reply, just brattily stuck her tongue out at her, so Dana gave her a hard smack.

As she walked to the car, paddle in the bag in her left hand, her right hand rubbing her Sweet-cheeks’ sweet cheeks, Dana thought about how lucky she was.

Shrinked scientist (F/F story)

"Doctor Mason, I'm heading into town. Do you need me to buy anything?" Eileen called out as she poked her head into her boss' makeshift laboratory, which had previously been Eileen's garage. When there was no reply, she had a quick look. "Doctor Mason, are you in here? Oh, I hope she hasn't gone for a walk again," she said to herself. "At her new height..."

She grabbed her coat and went out to search for her former employer.

Eileen Blackwood was about five foot high, with short brown hair that she often wore in pigtails. She was dressed in jeans and a white top. For the last few years, Eileen had worked for Doctor Rachel Mason, an accomplished scientist that had done some work on shrinking and enlarging radiation. Rachel was a demanding boss, but being her assistant had given Eileen some excellent experiences that would greatly aid her career.

But about a month ago, Doctor Mason had suffered an accident in the lab, and her once five-foot-six form had been reduced a height of a little more than two feet.

Initially, Eileen had wanted to call someone – some colleagues that could help, some medical professionals to have a look – but Doctor Mason had told her not to. She’d ignored quite a few proper safety precautions during that last test, and if anyone learned how careless she’d been with her own safety, she’d probably lose all her funding, not to mention the respect of her peers.

In the end, the pair had decided to head to a house in the country that Eileen had recently inherited from her great aunt. The house had a garage that was large enough for Doctor Mason’s expensive equipment, so that she could continue her experiments and turn herself back to normal. In addition, the house was remote enough that no one would know what was going on, and Rachel’s secret would be safe.


"Doctor Mason?" Eileen called out as she wandered to the nearest woods. "Are you out here?"

She’d been searching for half an hour now, and had seen no sign of her. She was beginning to get worried. Suddenly, she heard a faint voice.

"Eileen! Thank the heavens you’re here! Help me!"

She quickly followed the voice to find her employer lying in a ditch, trying to fend off the neighbour’s German shepherd. The dog seemed quite curious with its new discovery. Mason had always been afraid of dogs, and at her new height, they were even more terrifying.

"Go home, Rex," Eileen said as she waved the dog away. "Go home! That’s a good boy." She turned to Rachel. The woman’s entire outfit was covered in mud – her lab coat, black trousers, and dark grey suit jacket were all dripping wet. And getting those clothes for her current size had not been easy.

"Can you walk back, or do you want me to carry you?" Eileen said. The thought of picking up the mud-covered woman didn’t particularly appeal to her at the moment.

"I’ll walk, thank you," Doctor Mason said, doing her best to hold her head high and seem dignified. It wasn’t particularly convincing.

When they were back at the house, Eileen told her boss to enter the old woodshed at the back.

"But I have to go shower now!" Rachel protested.

Eileen shook her head. "I’m not having you track mud all over the house, or getting all that filth in the drains. I’m the one that’ll have to clean all of that up, you know. There’s a tub in the shed, and I can heat up some water. We’re doing this the old-fashioned way. Go into the shed and strip."

Blushing, Doctor Mason did as she was instructed. A few minutes later, Eileen arrived with the warm water, and began to fill up the tub. Rachel held her hands in front of her crotch and chest, trying her best to preserve what remained of her dignity. When Eileen was finished, she picked up her employer and dropped her in the water.

"What are those for?" Rachel said, nodding to the sponges and bath brush that Eileen had brought.

"The sponges are for getting some of this mud of you."

"And the brush?"

"You’ll find out afterwards," Eileen said ominously. Doctor Mason’s backside began to tingle. She had a horrible feeling she already knew what that vicious-looking brush would be used for.


A week after the accident, Rachel had been having a bad day, and was throwing a tantrum – throwing things, cursing at her assistant, and generally being in a terrible mood. Eileen had done her best to be understanding, but when one of Doctor Mason’s notebooks bounced off her shoulder, she lost her patience. She grabbed the little woman, carried her over to a nearby chair, sat down, and plopped her over her knee. She’d then pulled Rachel’s trousers and panties down to her knees, before beginning to spank her naked bottom. The doctor had been shouting her head off, cursing and pleading as she struggled to break free, but Eileen had easily held her in place as she continued to spank. By the time she was allowed to get up, Rachel’s backside was bright red and felt as if she’d sat in a campfire.

Rachel jumped from foot to foot as she rubbed her burning backside, sobbing uncontrollably. "I’ll call the police on you!" she shouted.

Eileen had just shrugged. "Fine. Here’s my phone," she said, handing Rachel her cell phone. "I assume you know the number."

Rachel had taken the phone, but started to reconsider. Calling the authorities would alert everyone to her current predicament. Everyone would know about her accident and the carelessness that led to it, and it would be the end of her academic career. She handed the phone back and pulled up her panties and trousers, wincing as the cloth dug into her sore backside. "Fine. But I’m assuming this won’t happen again?"

Eileen shook her head. "You assume wrongly. I’ve grown tired of your whining, and your tendency to blame everyone but yourself. It was YOUR impatience that got you into your mess, and as long as you’re living under my roof, it’s YOUR butt that’s going to end up over my knee if you don’t behave yourself. Got that?"


"I think we’re just about done here," Eileen said, putting the sponge down. Rachel blushed. Eileen had insisted on helping her clean herself, and had rubbed that sponge over every single part of her body until it was squeaky clean. She felt tired, and just wanted to lie down and cry. But as she glanced over at the intimidating bath brush on the floor, she had a feeling she’d soon have something else to cry about.

"Ah," Eileen said as she followed Rachel’s gaze. "That’s right, we still have to discuss the matter of your little excursion." She folded her arms and glared down at Rachel. "What exactly were you thinking, wandering off like that? The woods are not safe at your height. You don’t know the area, either – what if you’d gotten lost? Heck, what if someone found you? If you want to keep your predicament a secret, you’re not doing a great job. If you wanted to go for a walk, I could have gone with you."

"I’m sorry," Rachel said. "I just wanted to be alone with my thoughts. I didn’t think –"

"Heh. You’re right about that. You didn't think." Eileen sat down on a wooden chair, laid a dry towel over her knees, and placed the bath brush near the chair. She then patted her lap. "Come here, Rachel."

Rachel climbed out of the tub. On shaking legs, she slowly approached her scowling assistant. When she was close enough, Eileen helped the woman climb over her lap, then pushed her forward to lift her bottom up. The loud smack of her hand against Rachel’s backside was followed by a surprised gasp from the woman. As Eileen began to spank her employer in earnest, Rachel was soon kicking her legs and yelping in pain.

Eileen’s hand was large enough to cover both of Rachel’s cheeks in a single slap, and she moved up and down her backside, making sure to cover every inch. After a few minutes, she stopped long enough to pick up the bath brush.

"Oh no!" Rachel gasped as the cold wood rubbed against her cheeks. "Please, Eileen, don’t you think it’s enough? I’ve learned my lesson, I promise!"

"I believe you," Eileen said calmly. "But I want this lesson to STICK, don’t you?" And she lifted the brush.

As the loud crack of wood on flesh rang out in the shed, Rachel howled. She tried to get away, but Eileen held her down with one hand as the other continued its assault on her backside. Soon, Rachel was sobbing and pleading, promising her anything she wanted if only she’d stop spanking her.

By the time Eileen put the brush back down, Rachel’s bottom was bright red and beginning to blister. She cried as Eileen held her close, rubbing her back and telling her that the punishment was over.

She soon carried Rachel back to the house, where the accomplished scientist would be having a nap on her stomach while her assistant headed to town.

Up the stairs (F/m story)

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Adjusted (M/F story)

Susan did her best puppy-dog eyes, staring up at her boyfriend. "Please? I need you to do this. For me?"

Benjamin sighed, shaking his head. "We've talked about this, Susan."

"Why not?" she said, leaning against him, feeling his warmth against her as they laid in bed. "Why won't you spank me?"

"It's weird, Susan. It's weird and it's dangerous. Why don't you just get that idea out of your head? It's not going to happen."

Once again, she'd failed to convince him. She wasn't too surprised; he'd never understood how important it was for her, the pain, the humiliation, the complete loss of control, the feeling of someone else holding her responsible. When she was younger, she'd told herself she'd never get involved with someone that couldn't satisfy that part of her.

That was before she met Ben. He was handsome, intelligent, and kind. He shared her love of literature, her weakness for Chinese food, and he loved her as much as she loved him. Perfect in every way, but one.

But there had to be a way. There must be some way to get him to give her the spanking that she wanted – no, needed!

Four weeks later, he knelt by the car, examining the damage. "It's not that bad, is it?" she said. "I mean, it can be fixed, can't it?" She could see his hands trembling a little in rage, and took a step back. He didn't seem too interested in talking to her right now.

"This is more than scratched paint," he told her, trying his very best to remain calm. "It'll have to be at the mechanic's for at least a month, if not more. "He glanced up at her, his voice strangely calm, but his eyes betrayed his emotions. "Do you have any idea how much harder you just made those four weeks? Getting to work, grocery shopping?"

She bit her lip, tears at the edges of her eyes. He turned around and stepped back inside, heading to the basement to brood. She knew better than to disturb him in moments like these.

She headed upstairs to change out of her work clothes, wishing there was a way to calm him down, to get him to forgive her. As she opened the closet, her eyes fell on the long, flat package at the back. She smiled to herself. Maybe there was.

He was sitting in his favourite chair, reading his favourite book, when he heard her walking down the stairs behind him. She walked to his side, looking down at him, but he ignored her, focusing on the book. As the minutes passed, and she stood at his side, saying nothing, he finally looked up. "What?" he snapped.

She bit her lip, her face quite pale as she stood before him, dressed in her business skirt with her hands behind her back. "I'm sorry, sir. I'm sorry that I dented the car, I'm sorry that I was careless."

He was surprised to hear her call him "sir", but he still glared at her. "Sorry isn't good enough, Susan," he said, trying to return to his book.

"I know, sir. That's why I think you should punish me." And she handed him the paddle that she'd been holding behind her back. He took it, grabbing the handle as he stared at the thick wood. The words "Attitude Adjuster" was written across the board. It was one of the things she'd brought from her own apartment. He'd always found it weird. But right now, the thought of Susan bent over, crying in pain as he painted her bare cheeks red with the hard wood, was more appealing than it had ever been.

"You know what?" he said, standing up. "I think so too."

She smiled, grateful, but nervous, and more than a little bit scared.

She walked over to the writing desk they'd placed in the corner, flipping her skirt up before bending over the desk. As she hadn't been wearing panties, she knew she had to make a very inviting target. She heard him step up behind her, patting the paddle against his palm. "You're going to think twice before you're that careless again," he told her. "I'm going to make sure of that."

She cried out in pain as the first stroke of the paddle made contact with her rear end. She'd been paddled before, by boyfriends in college, but that had always been erotic games. Ben was angry, and he wasn't playing. He was punishing her. And she had asked him to do it.

Ben lifted the paddle again and again, raining strokes down on the wriggling bottom in front of him as Susan yelped in pain. "I won't have you being careless," he told her. "The car is not important. What if YOU had been hurt?" He took a deep breath, steadying his voice before continuing. "Did you even consider, for the briefest of moments, what would happen if you'd been injured? Or killed?"

Susan was in no state to answer him, so she cried instead, wailing as her bottom turned redder and redder. At last, when the rear end in front of him had turned crimson, and Susan had no more tears left, Ben dropped the paddle, letting it fall to the floor. He helped her up, and they hugged, her head against his chest.

"So, still mad about the car?" she said once she'd calmed down a bit.

"No," he said. "Are you ok?" he said, his voice full of concern. She could tell that he regretted his anger.

"I'll live," she told him, "But I'll have to stand through dinner for a week or so."

She picked up the paddle, handing it to him. "Why don't you keep this somewhere safe, and close?"

He took it. "Yes. I have a feeling I'll use it again."

She shuddered. Whether from fear or delight, she didn't know.

Lazy (M/f story)

 There are some days where there's just a lot harder to get anything done. All you want to do is relax your mind with a game, a book or a film, and forget about the things you're SUPPOSED to do. Everyone has those days, and today, Kate had hers. She was lying on the bed, playing some game she had bought the week before. There were only two problems. One was that she was supposed to be studying for her exam the next day.

The loud knocking on her door was caused by the other problem. Her big brother Ryan. Ryan, who was a little more hardworking than his sister, had made it clear that as long as she stayed in his house, she would either shape up or face the consequences.

"Hey, sis, I'm heading into town on an errand. Want me to get anything?"

"Not right now, thanks."

"By the way, aren't you supposed to be studying?"

The tone in his voice made her butt tingle, so she paused the game and turned around to look at him. "I was just taking a break. Five minutes, I promise, and I'll go back to work."

"I'll be back in about half an hour. If you haven't turned off the game by then, we're going to have a little talk."

As she heard her brother drive off, Kate decided to save at the first available checkpoint. She had been through quite a lot of Ryan's little talks, and had no interest in another one.

But she was in a particular interesting part of the story, and she didn't want to turn off the game just yet. The next checkpoint after that wasn't far off, and her brother wouldn't be back for half an hour. That was LOADS of time!

If Kate had heard Ryan's car pull into the garage, she could still have saved her butt. But the first sign that her time was up was the knock on the door, and by then, it was far too late. Ryan entered, not looking particularly happy. Kate got to her feet, looking down at the floor as she waited for the lecture about to commence.

"I thought you were going to start studying soon."

"I was! Just a small break, I'll start studying now."

"No. First, we'll have that discussion I promised you."

Kate shivered slightly. "But Ryyaaaan, I'll start working right away, I promise!"

"You should have been working earlier today. You should have been working yesterday. Now, you're going to pay for that laziness."

"But Ryan, I-"

"No buts, Kate. Take down your jeans."

Kate hated this part. Ryan felt that by making her bare her own bottom, he forced her to accept her punishment, and, by extension, take more responsibility for her actions. Kate felt that Ryan was being a big meanie, and should be nicer to her.

With her jeans and panties around her ankles, Kate picked up a pillow and placed it in the middle of the bed. She then laid down, placing the pillow under her stomach, pushing her bottom up to take her punishment. She heard Ryan slowly pull his belt out of the loops. Kate had yet to hear a scarier sound than that. Ryan stepped forward, placing a hand on her raised, bared buttocks. “Kate, why am I punishing you?”

Kate sighed. “Because I was goofing off and playing games when I should be studying.” She had a great number of sarcastic answers that she wanted to give instead, but knew that a smart mouth would only earn her extras.

The belt whipped through the air, landing across Kate's rear end. Shortly thereafter, it landed again. And again. Ryan whipped hard and fast. The lecture was over, and the true punishment had begun. Kate buried her face in the bed, muffling her pained exclamations.

Again and again, the belt landed, the leather biting deeply into Kate's bottom. Ryan spaced the licks out, but for some reason, the lower parts of her bottom stayed unbelted. When her bottom had turned pink, he reached forward and touched Kate's shoulder. She turned to face him, hope and confusion clear in her eyes; it couldn't be over already? Most of her whippings were twice as long.

“I know you need to be able to sit tomorrow, but it isn't right to let you off the hook. Therefore, I'm giving you a choice. Either we finish the licking right now, and I promise not to hit your sit spots. It will be hard to sit tomorrow, but you'll survive.” Kate didn't like this option very much.

“Or, we stop for today, and tomorrow, after the exam, you take the rest of the whipping – with a couple of extras. I will concentrate on your sit spots, meaning that sitting the next few days will be difficult. Your choice.”

Kate didn't like either option very much. She weighed the pros and cons of both, but decided that she couldn't spend her exam worrying about the licking she would get. It would be better if the entire belting was behind her. She looked up at him. “I'll take option one.”

Ryan nodded, and lifted the belt again.

The smacks came hard and fast, and Kate cried out in pain. After a short while, her bottom was turning red, and she was begging between sobs. At last, when she was sure she couldn't take any more, Ryan put the belt away and gathered her in for a hug.

After letting her cry against his shirt for a while, he headed off to put away the things he'd bought in town. Before leaving, he warned his sister. “I'll be back in ten minutes. If you haven't placed your nose in a book by then, I'm placing it in the corner, and giving you another dose of the belt.”

Kate stood up, and went over to the mirror to study her bottom. True to his word, her sit spots were as pale as ever. The rest of her bottom, however, wasn't such a pretty sight. She gingerly touched the flesh with the tips of her fingers, and made three promises.

The first one was to put away the game until after exams.

The second was to start studying right away, not wanting to risk another belt spanking.

The third was to find one of her skirts to wear tomorrow, because there was no way she was putting on jeans.