The naughty maid and the visitor (M/F story)

Scarlett wiped perspiration from her brow, wishing she could have worn something a little less warm than her maid uniform while working on a hot day like this.

Lady Bowman's good friend Baroness Starr was coming for an extended visit, accompanied by her adult nephew Jacob. Scarlett and the other employees had been told to prepare the manor for the grand visit, and Scarlett was dusting the bedrooms. She'd finished the suite that the Baroness would be staying in, and was now working on Mister Starr's quarters. There wasn't a lot left to do, but she was now quite tired, and was longing for a rest.

Glancing at one of the comfy chairs, she desperately wanted to sit down for a few minutes. Well, why not? She had more than an hour to finish cleaning before the guests arrived, which was far more than she needed. As she sat down, making herself comfortable on the soft chair, she decided that she'd sit here for a short while – five minutes, not more – just to get her strength back.


She awoke to the sound of liquid being poured into a glass. Jerking awake, the disoriented woman looked around the room, trying to get her bearings. A handsome, red-haired man was sitting on the bed opposite her, watching her with an amused grin on his face and a decanter and drinking glass in his hands. From the expensive clothes he was wearing, she guessed it was the Baroness' nephew.

"Ah, you're awake," he said good-humouredly. "It's been..." he glanced at his watch. "Five minutes since I entered the room, and you haven't stirred once. You must have been tired." He handed her the glass. "Some brandy to help you wake up."

Scarlett jumped to her feet, hastily trying to straighten the skirt of her uniform in a vain attempt to give a better first impression by appearing more presentable. "I am terribly sorry, sir! I didn't mean to fall asleep on the job – I just thought I'd rest for a few minutes!"

He chuckled. It was apparent that he found the whole situation quite amusing. "Oh, it turned out to be a little more than that – but that just shows you needed it."

He still held the glass in her direction, and Scarlett attempted to wave it away. "Oh, that brandy is not for the servants, Jacob. Mister Starr, I mean!" she quickly corrected herself, silently berating herself. Referring to Lady Bowman's honoured guests by their first name would not be popular with her employer.

"The bottle was a gift from the Lady to myself, which means I can do with it whatever I want – and I'm giving you a glass", he said calmly. "Now be a good girl and drink. I think you need that as well."

Reluctantly, Scarlett accepted the glass. She put it to her lips, coughing as the unfamiliar liquid burned her throat. Maids were obviously not permitted to drink the Lady's expensive brandy, and unlike some of her fellow maids, Scarlett had never been courageous enough to try to steal some.

"There. Do you feel better now? Properly awake?" his eyes sparkled with mirth as he took the glass from her hand and placed it next to the decanter on the nightstand. She nodded. "What is your name?"

"Scarlett, sir," she answered, wondering why in the world this rich nobleman wanted to know the lowly maid's name. A dreadful suspicion suddenly struck her, and she held her hands pleadingly out towards him. "Oh, please don't tell Lady Bowman that I fell asleep on the job! I couldn't bear it if she found out."

"Oh?" he said, raising an eyebrow. "What would happen? Would the old lady take you over her knee and spank your little bottom?"

Punished at the beach (M/f story)

A return of the characters from Cleanup.

 

Mindy felt very strongly that there were some days that were just too warm and wonderful to spend in a dusty high school classroom, so the eighteen-year-old had decided to call in sick and spend the day on the beach with her girlfriends. They'd brought a few sixpacks with them on the bus, and were planning to get drunk and flirt with guys. Mindy had always been tall and skinny, and felt that her bikini wasn't as filled-out as she'd like, but as long as it was skimpy enough, it didn't matter much.

Her best friend Courtney had declined to join them – she felt too self-conscious to wear a bikini, and had no desire to end up in trouble – but Mindy was sure they'd have a good time without her.

They'd been there a few hours, and Mindy had started chatting to a handsome surfer named Jake, when she heard her name being called from the other end of the beach. She looked up to see a tall, athletic man walking toward her with a scowl on his face. Her big brother Robert had arrived to spoil her fun.

She rose from the sand and walked to meet him. As she approached, he folded his arms and glared at her. "I was driving past and spotted you and your little buddies partying. Why aren't you at school, young lady?"

"I felt sick," she said, trying to seem calm and blasé in front of her friends.

He raised an eyebrow. "And you thought going to the beach and drinking beer was the best medicine?"

She shrugged. "I felt better, so I decided to head out." Despite her attempts to seem cool and confident, she could feel a blushing tingeing her cheeks, and fought to keep it back. Being scolded by her strict older brother was never fun, but having it happen in front of her friends – plus the cute boy she was trying to flirt with – made it a thousand times worse. In her tipsy state, she decided that the best path forward was to show no weakness and treat it as a joke.

"You felt better, so you decided to go to the beach, instead of to school, where you should have been?" He sighed. "I'm not stupid, Mindy. It was a nice day, so you decided to skip school. Well, I'm taking you there right now."

She smiled as she glanced down at her bikini. "And you don't think the outfit is going to raise any eyebrows?" Giggles could be heard from the silently watching crowd – she'd scored a point.

"I'm taking you home to put some clothes on first, of course," he acknowledged. "But then – "

"By the time we get to school," she pointed out, "the day will be practically over, so there's no point in going there." Grinning at her victory, she brought her can of beer to her lips, but Robert snatched it out of her hand.

"Well, I'm taking you home at any rate," he said, in a voice that would have made her shiver if she'd been sober enough to care.

"You are doing no such thing," she said, folding her arms in front of her, trying to stare him down.

"Mindy. We are going home, where we're going to discuss this in private." This time, his tone of voice managed to penetrate her beer-addled brain, and she realized what he meant. This would be one of those discussions where he'd lecture her, put her over his knee, and spank her bare bottom until she was sobbing. The look on his face confirmed her dreadful suspicions. There was no doubt that this was what was waiting for her back home.

Of course, she had no desire to go through this, so she concluded that the best path forward was to remain stubborn. She turned her back on him. "You can go wherever the hell you want," she told him. "But I'm staying here."

When he stepped forward and grabbed her wrist, and she saw the look of steel on his face, she began to realize that she'd made a mistake. "Oh? You don't want to go home for our discussion? You want to remain here? Fine. We'll discuss it right here, right now... in front of your friends."

Broken Promise 2: Home from the party (M/F story)

Sequel to Broken Promise.

 

"I don't see why we have to go to this party," Sydney grumbled as she tried to pick out a dress to wear. Or should she go with a skirt? Actually, maybe she should choose jeans...

"We are going because we've been at this college for two months, and you still haven't really talked to anyone," her boyfriend Gabriel explained calmly. "We're going because it'll be good for you to get out of the apartment – you can't just lie under a blanket on the couch all day."

"But I LIKE lying under the blanket," she whined. "Especially when I'm cuddling with you."

He smiled at her. "I like that too – but going outside occasionally is good for you, and you need to meet new people. And I'll be there at your side the entire evening, if you want to."

"But I have a new Dorian Hart novel I was planning to read today," she complained. "Don't I get a choice here?"

"Of course you have a choice," he said as he walked over to her, placing a soft kiss on her forehead. "You can get dressed, come to the party with me, and have a good time..." He gave her bottom a few taps that weren't quite as gentle as she would have liked. "Or I can take you across my knee, spank your little butt until it's bright red and you're squealing, and THEN we get dressed and go to the party."

She pouted. "You're mean and unfair and not half as funny as you think you are."

"Those are your options," he told her. "Make a choice, before I make it for you."

The Booty Call (M/F story)

Veronica smiled when she heard his firm baritone voice on the phone. "Jacob here."

"It's Veronica," she said sweetly. "I was feeling lonely this evening, and I was wondering if you were too busy to come over and give my booty a good spanking." Jacob only lived a ten-minute walk away, so he could often be available when Veronica decided she needed a strict man on short notice.

He chuckled. "I think I can find time for that in my schedule, young lady," he replied. "Would you like me to come over and spank your bottom right now?"

She nodded, before remembering that she was on the phone and he couldn't see her. "As soon as possible, please."

"I'm almost ready to head out, so I'll be there in twenty minutes. I want you to go to the corner in your bedroom right now and wait for me."

She pouted. "Do I have to?" she whined. "Please? I don't like time-outs."

"Yes, you have to," he responded in a voice that made it clear it was not open to debate. "When I arrive, I want you in the proper mindset for a sound spanking - and twenty minutes in the corner will accomplish that. When I let myself in, I expect to find you facing the corner, hands on your head and bottom bare. Is that clear, young lady?"

"Yes, sir. I will do as you say," she said, switching to her meekest, most compliant voice.

"Good girl." She could almost hear the grin on his face as he hung up.

Veronica rolled her eyes. Did he really expect her to stand in the corner in an empty house? She had always hated corner time and never understood Jacob's obsession with it. Whenever they got together to play, it always seemed like they had too little time, and he wanted her to waste large parts of it staring at the wallpaper. She could spend that time being spanked, or being comforted afterward, or they could cuddle up on the couch to watch TV - anything except just standing there with her hands on her head and her bottom bare. She couldn't think of a worse waste of their precious moments. She didn't know who'd invented corner time, but she hoped they'd been properly punished for it.

And now she was being told to stand in the corner even when she was alone? She shouldn't be expected to punish herself - that was HIS job. Well, she had no intention of obeying. She would hear him when he let himself in, and she'd have ample time to go to the corner. As long as he didn't hear her move, and she was in position when he entered the room, he'd have no way of knowing how long she'd been standing there. With a smug grin on her face, she sat down in her favourite chair and picked up a novel; a far more enjoyable way of waiting for him to arrive.

Country boy (m/F story)

In the passenger seat next to me, my mobile phone made some final sad, tired noises before shutting itself off, completely out of power. I swore under my breath; I was relying on the GPS, so I wasn't entirely sure where to go now. I started berating myself for not charging my phone before leaving, and for not buying a proper map. A young, defenceless woman, lost in the wilds, with no way to contact anyone – at least, 32 qualified as 'young' in my eyes, and these backwater roads could very well be considered the wilderness.

Of course, if I'd paid attention to where I was driving instead of scolding myself, I might have spotted the glass bottle in the road before it was too late.

I managed to get the car under control, but I quickly realized that the left front tire had suffered some damage. Stopping the car on the side of the road, I got out and confirmed my suspicions. There was a jack and a new tire in the back of the car, but I had no idea what I should actually do with them.

Ordinarily, I would have looked up some how-to guide on my phone, but the battery was flat. I had my laptop, but there was no wi-fi here. I thought about using my phone as a hotspot, which would allow my laptop to connect to the internet, and actually congratulated myself on my cleverness before realizing the obvious flaw in the plan.

I bent over, staring at the ruined remains of the tire, while going through the facts. I was out in the wilderness with a flat tire which I had only the vaguest idea how to replace. I had no food or water with me, and no way to contact anyone that could help me. Even if I somehow managed to get the car rolling again, I had no idea where to go.

I don't know how long I remained there, hoping that staring at the tire would magically fix it, but in the end, I decided I had no option but to just give it my best shot, hope that I could stumble my way through replacing the tire, and then pray I could find civilization – or at least someone who could direct me to it. The worst part of it was that it was all my fault. "Christine," I said loudly to myself, "this time you really DO deserve a good spanking."

"Now, that I'd like to see," a cheerful voice exclaimed behind me.

Wide-eyed, I spun around, spotting a lanky young man in dirty jeans and an old, worn shirt, grinning at me. I guessed him to be eighteen or nineteen. With a blush, I realized what a sight I had presented to him, bent over at the waist, thrusting my jean-clad backside in his direction. From the way he smiled, it seemed he'd enjoyed the sight, despite the fact that I was more than a decade older than him.

"I'm Ken," he said, shaking my hand. "I was walking to town when I spotted you and your car. You looked like you needed a hand."

Too many drinks (M/F story)

"Just remember to watch how much you drink today," Rob said as he finished dressing. The brawny, dark-haired 40-year-old man glanced in the mirror; the suit was expensive and looked it, and with his wife's black evening dress, the pair would probably make a good entrance. "Remember last time?"

"I was just a having a good time," Alex said, pouting. The tall woman was absentmindedly wrapping her finger around a strand of her long, red hair. "I was dancing, everyone was laughing ..."

"Yes, because you were making a fool of yourself," Rob told her, giving her a quick kiss. "We're not in our twenties anymore, and this isn't that sort of party. It's the 'well-dressed, decently catered, make polite conversation while taking small sips' kind. The grown-up kind of party."

"The boring kind," Alex grumbled.

"Exactly," he said, gazing into her eyes. "So let's not have a repeat of last time, shall we? Will you drink in moderation today?"

Alex rolled her eyes. "OK," she sighed, holding up her hand as if swearing an oath. "I promise to drink responsibly today."

He grinned, giving her a longer kiss. "Good girl. Are you ready to leave now?"


The first hour of the party went well. They walked around the venue, chatting with old friends, meeting new people, and enjoying the refreshments. The hostess, Vanessa, was one of Rob's colleagues, and she complimented Alex on her wonderful dress. Alex was hanging off Rob's arm, being introduced to some of his friends and acquaintances that she hadn't met before, while introducing him to some of hers. They'd been offered a glass of champagne at the door, and she was sipping it slowly, intending to keep her promise. Since he was driving, Rob was sticking to non-alcohol drinks.

After a while, she wandered off to chat with some old school friends, and they fetched some glasses of wine. As they sat around, giggling about the old days, she kept fetching drinks, not noticing in her amusement that she was finishing them rather more rapidly than her friends.

Suddenly, as she was relating some school anecdote to her friend Sophie, she felt a tap on her shoulder, and turned to find her husband standing behind her. He was smiling, but there was something slightly strained about it. "You are remembering to watch your intake, honey? You're being a bit loud. We wouldn't want you to get TOO drunk, would we?"

A slight blush tinged her cheeks. She didn't like being chided in front of her friends like this – it was so humiliating, having her husband lecture her in public. "Don't worry, Rob. I'm being careful."

"Good," he said, still smiling, but his eyes told her he didn't quite believe her.

In her friends' house (M/F story)

Waking up, I gasped as I sat up in the bed. My tank top and pyjamas shorts were drenched in sweat, and my heart was trying to beat its way through my chest, but the details of my nightmare were already getting foggy, leaving me with nothing but a strong sense of unease.

My frightened mind was now further unsettled by the unfamiliar surroundings, and in my tired state, it took a few moments before I remembered that I had gone out of town to visit my friends Jessica and Mark. This wasn't my own bedroom, with its posters and knick-knacks; it was their clean, almost-empty guest bedroom.

I wondered if I had screamed during my nightmare, and whether I'd woken them up. I tiptoed into the hall, placing my ear against the door of their bedroom, where I could hear them both snoring peacefully. I glanced at the watch – it was half past seven in the morning, so they'd probably sleep for another hour or two.

Too stressed to go back to sleep, I decided to head downstairs to the living room and watch TV until they woke up. I zapped from channel to channel, trying to find something worth watching, but in vain. I considered fetching my laptop and surfing the web for a while, but my head was still too tired.

I was unsettled from the nightmare, I was tired, I was stressed, and I suddenly felt a little bit homesick. What I needed most was some sort of relief. I pondered going back up to the bedroom and masturbating, but I was sitting on a very comfortable couch. Ah, life's hard dilemmas.

After a few seconds, a naughty thought entered my head. Why should I go upstairs? Couldn't I just rub my nub right here, in my friends' living room?

The more I thought about it, the more appealing it seemed. There was something so transgressive, so DIRTY about masturbating in a living room that wasn't my own. My friends were sleeping, but they could wake up and come downstairs any minute, couldn't they? They could catch me on their couch, with my fingers inside myself, being a naughty girl. How humiliating that thought was! Now, of course, they were fast asleep, and wouldn't wake up for at least an hour. Or would they? They didn't usually wake up early, but it wasn't out of the question. It felt so risky and embarrassing.

Making my mind up, I reached for the roll of paper towels that Jessica kept near their couch in case she spilled wine – I had no intention of leaving any strange stains on their furniture. Placing a thick layer of paper below myself to catch any escaping moistness, I lowered my shorts, pulled my panties to the side, and began to rub myself.

Even in my sleep-addled state, my experienced fingers knew just what to do, and in a few minutes, I reached the edge. I grinned to myself as I again thought about how dirty I was being – pleasuring myself in someone else's house, while they were sleeping nearby.

It was only then, almost at the point of orgasm, that my drowsy mind remembered that I hadn't checked whether the curtains were drawn.

The cyclist and the farmer (M/F story)

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The Maid's Punishment (M/F story)

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

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

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

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

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

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

Jane's first spanking (M/F story)

Jane glanced around as she sat on the comfortable leather sofa. The house was small, but very stylishly decorated. Sitting opposite her in a comfy chair was the owner of the house; a tall, steel-blond man with a confident, comfortable air. He was in his forties, but his body was in a shape that many younger men would envy him. His dark trousers and expensive shirt enhanced the image projected by the house – that of a man of wealth and taste. Jane felt slightly underdressed in her old t-shirt and shorts, and wondered if she should have worn a dress, or perhaps one of her nicer skirts.

She had declined his offer of wine or beer, but had accepted a glass of orange juice. She took a sip, and the tall, slim woman in her late twenties, whose long, red hair was gathered in a ponytail, finally summoned the courage to say the words on her mind. "Like I said on the phone, I've heard that you're a man that can give me the spanking I deserve."

"Indeed?" Roger said, raising the glass of cognac to his lips. From the look in his eyes, she knew that he was studying her just as much as she was examining him. "And who told you about my… services?"

Broken promise (M/F story)

The college student buried herself deeper under the blanket on the couch, pulling it over her head. "I don't want to go to the party on Friday," she said with a pout.

"Come on, Sydney, this will be fun," Gabriel said as he sat down on the couch next to his friend.

"I don't know anyone who'll be there," she complained.

"I'll be there," he pointed out. "And besides, that's the point – meeting new people. We've been at this college for a month now, and you still haven't really talked to anyone. And if you keep shutting yourself up in your room, you won't."

"But they'll make fun of me," she grumbled.

He raised an eyebrow. "Is this the whole 'nerd' thing again?" He sighed. "We're not in high school anymore. No one's going to tease you for that – and if they do, I'm going to have a talk with them." Gabriel was slightly over six foot, with a figure that clearly showed that he was an active sportsman. People rarely gave him trouble, and so far, no one had ever done it twice.

He was the kindest, most considerate person that she knew, and Sydney had to admit that he was also quite good-looking. Over the past year or so, she'd developed strong feelings for her old friend, but was too shy to say it out loud, and so far, he hadn't picked up on any of her hints. Sydney was a timid, petite nerd who avoided exercise and sunshine as much as possible. In her opinion, her hair was too red, she had too many freckles, and she lacked the curves, dress sense, and confidence that guys like Gabriel were probably looking for. If she could stay in a corner of the room and avoid attention, that was fine with her.

He pulled the blanket off her head, gently tussling her hair. She hated it when someone did that, but she didn't mind when it was him. "And besides, do you think you'll be the only nerd at this party? This is college, after all. If there aren't at least a few nerd girls here, I'll eat my hat."

"You don't have a hat," she pointed out.

He nodded. "That's true. Is there anything in particular you'd like me to eat, then?"

"Me," she whispered to herself, blushing.