Stepsister's secret (m/f story)

This all started one day when I was on my way back home from school early. Mister Davison, our maths teacher, had to call in sick that day, and the school had been unable to find a substitute, so we’d been sent home about two hours early. My father and my stepmother were of course at work, but my stepsister Michelle had the day off from school – her class was doing a project that they were supposed to work at from home, but I think she spent most of her time surfing the web or watching films.

 

Michelle was three years older than me, and it was now a little over two years since she became my stepsister. We hung out occasionally, but I wouldn’t say we regarded each other as siblings, or even close friends. There was no animosity of any kind, but we just didn’t have much to talk about.

 

I headed inside, and as I walked past Michelle’s room, I heard some fairly strange noises inside. The door wasn’t closed, so I had a peek inside and saw something that made my jaw drop.

 

Michelle had placed her computer chair in the middle of the room, and laid a pillow across it. She was now bent over it, her stomach resting on the pillow with her backside in the air. She was smacking her the seat of her jeans with her hand, bending over in an awkward manner to reach her target. She was also lecturing herself under her breath, calling herself a “bad girl” and saying that she needed to learn a good lesson. It was, to be frank, a bizarre sight.

 

After a minute or so, she rose to her feet and started to undo the button of her jeans. Part of me wanted to leave, or to ask her what in the world was going on, but I just stood there. She pulled the jeans down to her knees, revealing a pair of fairly modest cotton panties, and bent back over the pillow, where she continued to smack her backside with her hand. After another minute, she picked up a brush that was resting on the floor, and started to apply it to her own bottom. The brush made a surprisingly sharp crack as it struck.

 

She continued like this for a few minutes, then rose again. Apparently, her imaginary spanker now told her to bare her bottom, for she slowly reached down to lower her panties to her knees. She bent back over the pillow to continue her self-punishment, and I decided to withdraw and think about what I’d seen.

 

I went for a walk to clear my head, and returned half an hour later. When I went inside, I deliberately made a bit more noise than usual, so that Michelle would hear me coming and think I’d just returned from school. I didn’t want her to know that I’d seen her – at least, not right now. Michelle was sitting at the kitchen table as I entered. I noticed she was sitting a bit more gingerly than usual. We exchanged brief nods, and I went to my room to put my backpack away and process what I’d seen.

 

Later that day, Michelle went shopping with a few of her friends, and while my father and stepmother watched TV in the living room, I decided to sneak into Michelle’s room and have a look at her computer. Half an hour later, I’d had a look at her files and browsing history, and made a few conclusions.

 

Michelle obviously had a spanking fetish. This didn’t take much mental work on my part, considering that I’d seen my stepsister bent over a chair, bare bottom  in the air as she spanked herself with a brush, but the things I found left absolutely no doubt. She seemed to have an interest in naughty girls being bent over the lap of strict, but caring, friends, who spanked them soundly for their misbehaviour. I had to admit that, while I’d never given it much thought before, I suddenly found the subject quite fascinating myself.

 

She had quite a few audio files on her computer – a strict man telling a woman he knew that his patience had run out, she’d pushed her luck too far, and she was going to get what she’d been begging for; that sort of thing. I concluded that Michelle hadn’t found someone to spank her yet, and thus had resorted to self-spanking. I couldn’t recall her ever having a boyfriend. As I left the room, I made sure that everything was exactly where it had been when I entered. I headed back to my room and thought about what I should do, now that I knew her secret.

 

That Saturday, our parents had decided to visit some friends. I knew they’d be gone for hours, so I decided it was a good opportunity to enact my plan. I was in the living room, reading in a chair, when Michelle entered, about to sit down in front of the TV.

 

“Michelle, you still haven’t done the washing up from yesterday,” I gently reminded her. We had a washing machine, but the pots and pans still needed to be washed by hand, and we took turns. Michelle had a habit of leaving it unfinished for a day or two, which had been a minor point of irritation.

 

“I know. I’ll do it later,” she said, waving it away.

 

“I think you should do it now,” I said, less gentle than before. “It’s not a good habit, leaving things unfinished like that. The rest of us have to -”

 

“I’ll do it later,” she said dismissively. “Don’t nag me.” She turned her back to me to head for the sofa, and I saw my chance.

 

“I said NOW,” I scolded as I gave the seat of her jeans a good, hard smack.

 

She spun around, clutching her backside with both hands as she stared wide-eyed at me. Her mouth opened and closed a few times, but she didn’t seem to be able to think of anything to say. “You… “ she tried again. “I… it’s not…”

 

I folded my arms in front of me, doing my best to radiate determination. I wasn’t exactly sure how one does that, but I don’t think I did too badly. “Michelle, go do the washing up,” I said, in a firm voice.

 

For a second or two, she met my gaze, but then lowered her head. “OK, Robert,” she said, and walked into the kitchen.

 

I was amazed at the change she’d undergone. With a few strict words and a single slap to her posterior, my stepsister was obeying me. I had made a few guesses after taking a look at her reading material, but it was interesting to see it in action.

 

I had positioned my chair so that I could see her while she was in the kitchen. She was bent over the sink, working, and from time to time she’d look up and stare at me, as if seeing me for the first time. Her eye studied me, but when I met her gaze, she quickly looked down and continued with her task. She’d occasionally reach her hand back and rub her bottom, right where I’d slapped her. The sting couldn’t have lasted this long, so I suspected that she was savouring the memory or something.

 

After a while, she seemed to come to a decision, and turned off the water. She dried her hands and walked out of the kitchen, heading for the TV again.

 

“You’re not finished,” I said, nodding towards the unwashed pots near the sink.

 

“I’ll do it later,” she said. She tried to make her tone dismissive again, but her voice was quivering slightly.

 

“I thought I made it quite clear,” I said, standing up, “that you should do it NOW.”

 

“Or what?” she said, trying to sound mocking. “Are you going to SPANK me or something?”

 

“Yes, I am,” I said, in a calm but firm voice. I wished I felt as confident as I seemed.

 

Her hands were shaking slightly, but she placed them at her hips and tried to glare at me. “You wouldn’t dare!”

 

I smiled at that, then quickly grabbed her arm and dragged her over to the sofa, where I sat down. There wasn’t the slightest hint of resistance as I dragged her over my knee, pushing her forward until her bottom was sticking up and her head was facing the carpet. I began to rub her bottom, and smiled to myself as her cheeks clenched under my palm.

 

“You disobeyed me, Michelle,” I lectured, “and now you’re going to face the consequences.” I started to spank her. She gasped as the first smacks landed, wriggling a little under my palm, but otherwise remained in place.

 

After the day I’d looked at her files, I’d done a bit of research on my own, and picked up a few tips on how to deliver a spanking. I spanked first one cheek, then the other, delivering firm smacks over every inch of her bottom. After a few minutes, I told her to stand up.

 

“Is it over?” she asked as she rose to her feet. From the tone of her voice, she wasn’t entirely sure whether to be relieved or disappointed by the prospect.

 

“Far from it,” I said, reaching out to undo the button of her jeans. Instinctively, she took a step backward, but quickly moved forwards again when I glared at her.

 

“Sir- I mean, Robert, I’m sorry that…” she stopped, not sure of what to say.

 

“I know,” I told her as I pulled her jeans down to her knees. “But not as sorry as you’re going to be.” I patted my knees. “Over my lap,” I instructed. She immediately obeyed. Like the last time I saw her with her jeans down, she was wearing a pair of modest white cotton panties. I could tell that her bottom was beginning to turn pink, and I rubbed her seat a little bit, before delivering the first slap.

 

Everything was completely different. The sound, the sensation of the cotton-covered flesh under my palm, the way she reacted… I continued to spank her, smiling to myself as she whimpered. I continued to spank her for a few minutes, before reaching out and grabbing the waistband of her panties.

 

I hesitated. Could I really pull her panties down and spank her bare bottom? How would she react? A silly thought, considering she’d accepted everything else I’d done that day – heck, she’d been just as eager as me, as far as I could tell – but there was still a nagging voice at the back of my head. Ignoring the voice, I lowered her panties. Like before, I rubbed her bottom slowly before the spanking began. Her bottom was now pink, with parts of it turning red.

 

As my palm gently patted her seat, she took a deep breath, letting out a small moan. I started to spank her bare bottom. Tears were rolling down her cheeks, but she couldn’t hide the smile on her face as I spanked her soundly. She was wriggling her backside, eagerly inviting me to continue.

 

When I helped her to her feet, her bottom was bright red, and she was breathing heavily. She sat on my lap as I hugged her, rubbing her back.

 

“Thank you,” she whispered. “How did you know? Where did…”

 

“I’ll tell you later,” I answered.

Cleaning the kitchen (M/F story)

Sharon did her best to scowl at her friend, but David scowled back, and she had to admit, he did it better than her. It was late Saturday, and Sharon had already changed into her pyjamas and was ready to go to bed, but David was lecturing her about how it was her turn to clean the kitchen in the flat they shared, and that it was a complete mess.

 

“Relax, I'll do it tomorrow,” she said again. “I'm not going to do it now, it's too late.”

 

“You should have done it hours ago,” he told her. “But you were too busy watching television, I suppose?”

 

She knew deep down that he had a point, but she was too mad to consider it. “I need to go to bed now” she told him, turning his back to him as he headed towards her bedroom. It would probably be a while until she calmed down enough to fall asleep.

 

Then he spoke the words that would change their relationship forever: “What you need is a good spanking,” he told her in a strict tone of voice that she'd never heard him use before.

 

Sharon froze in her tracks, then spun around to stare at him in open-mouthed shock. She had never spoken to anyone about her interest in that subject, not even her best friends. And now, her friend was threatening to spank her. She thought about the fantasies she'd had, the dreams about some man, tired of her attitude, pulling her across his lap and baring her bottom. The way he'd slap her bottom, long after she'd begged him to stop. And she looked at David, tall and dark-haired, and the way he looked at her with his arms folded in front of him. “You wouldn't dare,” she said at last. She hoped he would.

 

And he did. David grabbed her wrist and pulled her over to a nearby chair. He sat down, and the butterflies soared in her stomach as he pulled her over his lap. She gasped as he pulled her pyjamas bottoms down, revealing her bare backside. “You beast! Let me up immediately,” she yelled, but she didn't even try to get up.

 

She winced as his palm firmly connected with her bare buttocks, and had to gasp for breath as he spanked her hard and fast. Soon, she was squirming around, and had to grab his leg for support as a fire began building up in her seat.

 

His hand moved from cheek to cheek, soon covering every single square inch of her butt with hard, stinging spanks. She kicked her legs and began to wonder how she was going to sit down tomorrow.

 

“Have you learned your lesson?” he said after a while. “Are you going to be a good girl now?” Sharon had a feeling that if she said yes, he'd end her spanking. He'd let her up, and she could go into her bedroom, have a look at the state of her cheeks, rub some cooling lotion into the sore spots, and fall asleep with a warm and tingling rear end.

 

“No!” she said. “I'm not! Leave me alone, you brute!”

 

And he continued the spanking. Tears were rolling down her cheeks, and she sobbed loudly. Her bottom burned like she'd sat in a campfire, and she was kicking her legs so hard, she almost fell off his lap.

 

After what seemed like an eternity spent clutching his leg as he spanked her, he stopped again. “Are you going to be a good girl now?”

 

“Yes, sir! Oh yes, I'll do anything, sir, please, I'll be good,” she pleaded. She knew she was babbling, but she didn't particularly care. All she wanted right now was to get a bit of distance between her butt and his hand.

 

He let her up, and she fled into her room. Wiping the tears from her face, she stared in wide-eyed shock as she examined her bottom in the mirror – it wasn't as damaged as it felt, but there was still a fetching red shine to it. She prodded it gently with her fingers, and winced as she tried to rub some of the sting away.

 

The next morning, as David got up, he was surprised to find the kitchen cleaner than he'd seen it in months. He guessed that Sharon had got up early today – usually, she stayed in bed for quite a while. As he sat down to eat breakfast, Sharon came into the room. There was a bounce in her step and a smile on her face, and though she winced every time her bottom brushed against something, she seemed happier and more energetic than he'd seen her in months. She came up behind him and hugged him tightly.

 

“Thank you,” she said.

 

“For what?” he said, smiling back. He wanted to hear her say it.

 

She shrugged. “You know. For being caring. For being here.”

 

She fetched her pillow and placed it on a chair, before slowly lowering herself onto it. He smiled as he watched her grimace when her bottom finally touched down.

 

“Sharon,” he said after a while. “I think you've been a bit lazy lately, and I'm not happy with the attitude you've been giving me. I think that there's going to be some consequences for that sort of behaviour in the future.” She tried to fight the grin that was spreading across her face, but it was futile.

 

“I'll be good, I promise,” she told him at last.

 

“We'll see,” he told her. “But now we know what will happen if you don't.”

Spanking the schoolgirl (F/F story)

 It was shortly before Halloween, and Kate was out looking for a costume. Having done her best to be scary the previous years, she decided that this year, she would try something a bit more modern – the sexy kinds of costumes. Sure, it broke every tradition, but it would be fun to look a bit slutty for a night – see all the young men get their hopes up, and watch as they realized she was already seeing someone.

 

In one costume shop, she spotted something that caught her attention – a schoolgirl outfit hanging by the door. She'd seen a few of them hanging around before, but they usually fell in one of two categories – either too slutty, with a non-existent skirt and a shirt with too few buttons, or too realistic, which was no fun at all. Actually, a realistic schoolgirl uniform hanging in a shop like this was one of the creepiest things she could imagine.

 

But this uniform was somewhere in between. The skirt was short, but not too short – no one would see her panties (or lack of such) unless she wanted them too. And it came with a proper shirt, and some long white socks and matching panties. She decided she wanted it.

 

She considered waiting until Halloween before springing the costume on her girlfriend, but found that she couldn't keep the surprise in her that long. She slipped into the costume, and entered the living room where Cecilia was waiting. The gasp that Cecilia made was loud enough to stop her in her tracks. Her girlfriend was turning pale, and seemed to look everywhere but at her. Kate smiled to herself. It seemed Cecilia had a thing for schoolgirl uniforms. She hadn't known that. She decided a few quick kisses would make her feel better, and things progressed quickly from there.

 

A few days later, Cecilia had to work late. When she finally made it home, late in the evening, she sat on the couch, a glass of wine in her hand as she felt the stress of the day slowly disappearing. Kate smiled to herself before slipping off to the bedroom. She knew something that would make her feel better.

 

She returned in a few minutes, in the schoolgirl uniform. She stepped up behind her girlfriend, giving her shoulders a quick massage. Cecilia smiled gratefully up at her, her breath catching in her throat as she spotted the uniform. There was a poorly restrained lust in her eyes, and she licked her lips.

 

"Do you like my little uniform?" Kate asked as if she didn't know the answer already. "Do you like schoolgirl Kate?"

 

"Are you a good little schoolgirl, Kate?" Cecilia asked. "Or a bad one?"

 

An interesting question, Kate thought to herself. "A bad one," she replied, grinning. "A VERY bad one."

 

Suddenly, Kate found herself being pulled forward, over her girlfriend's lap. Her head was still spinning with confusion when the first smack landed, bringing with it a slight sting that made her kick her legs.

"I know what to do with naughty schoolgirls," Cecilia said, her voice full of lust as she started spanking the skirt-covered rear end before her.

Smoking burn (F/f story)

As Jennifer approached the counter at the store, it felt like her heart was trying to escape from her chest. 'Stay calm', she told herself, forcing herself to breathe normally – or as close to it as she possibly could. 'Don't look nervous, don't draw attention to yourself. In a few seconds, you'll be out of here.'
 
She placed her items on the counter, and the girl working there barely looked up as she scanned them, took the crumpled bill Jennifer handed her, and gave her back the change. Jennifer left the store, trying her hardest to look normal in every possible way.
 
Once she was out of the store, and out of sight, she gasped for air. She hadn't even noticed she'd held her breath. But as she glanced down at the pack of cigarettes in her hand, she grinned to herself. She'd made it out with her price.
 
Jennifer had always looked old for her age, and at thirteen, she could easily pass for a young adult, if she dressed the part. And today, she had. Of course, she would never have tried this at home – it was far too likely that she'd be recognized, either by the workers, or by other shoppers. But half an hour by bus in any direction, and no one knew her face.
 
She coughed loudly as she took the first few puffs of the cigarette. It wasn't her first cigarette, but she was still far from an experienced smoker, and the smoke hurt her lungs. Deep breaths, she told herself as she walked through town, intending to do a bit of shopping before she got on the bus home.
 
She tossed the cigarette butt on the ground, pulling another out of the carton, while she looked at one of the dresses in the window. It was cute, but a bit expensive, she concluded. She would have to make sure she had enough money for the bus.
 
"What do you think you are doing?" a calm, but strict voice said behind her. With a cold shiver running down her back, she turned to face the policewoman standing right behind her. She was a full foot taller than Jennifer, who found the woman quite intimidating.
 
"Is there something wrong, officer?" Jennifer said, trying to stay calm despite the alarm bells ringing in her head. Stay calm, she reminded herself again. Maybe you can bluff your way out.
 
The officer pointed at the cigarette butt that Jennifer had just discarded. "Go find a trash can for that. Don't litter."
 
She could feel the relief surging through her as she picked it up, throwing it in the nearest trash can. That was all, just littering. She didn't know anything.
 
Unfortunately, her relief must have been visible, because the policewoman was studying her with a suspicious look on her face. "How old are you?" she said at last.
 
"I'm... I'm eighteen," she said, almost making a grave error. Usually when she lied about her age, she only needed to claim to be sixteen, and habit almost steered her wrong. But she corrected herself just in time.
 
"Do you have any ID?"
 
She patted her pockets, pretending she was looking for her wallet. "Not on me, no. Sorry," she said, still trying to remain calm.
 
Unfortunately, it didn't seem like she believed her, and the woman suddenly reached into Jennifer's pocket, pulling out her wallet. "I could see it through the fabric," she told her as she went through it, finding Jennifer's school ID.  "THIRTEEN!?" she gasped, glaring at the teenager, who suddenly felt like fainting – or more preferably, running away. "You looked a little young to be smoking, but thirteen?" She fixed Jennifer with the coldest, angriest stare the teenager had seen in her life, and suddenly, she grabbed her arm and pulled her away. "Come here, young lady."
 
She marched Jennifer over to her nearby police car, pushing her into the back seat. Jennifer felt more like fainting with every second that passed. She was about to be arrested. Thirteen years old, and she was already in the back of a police car. She wondered with dread what her parents would say when the police drove her home. They wouldn't like it, she supposed.
 
But instead of getting behind the wheel, and driving Jennifer to her eventual fate, the policewoman got in the back seat with her, sitting down next to the nervous teen. "What you did today was very irresponsible," the policewoman said. "Cigarettes are kept from minors for a REASON."
 
As the lecture went on, the teen found it harder to keep the tears away. She sniffed, and was surprised when the woman but her hand on her shoulder, calming her down. "Am... am I going to be arrested?" she asked.
 
The woman smiled at she shook her head. "You're young, you shouldn't have a record. Trust me, those things never go away. So no, I'm not going to arrest you." The smile vanished. "I am, however, going to punish you."
 
"Punish?" Jennifer said, a lump forming in her throat. She didn't like the sound of that.
 
The woman nodded. And gently, but quite firmly, she grabbed the teen's shoulder and guided her over her lap. Jennifer bit her lip as she realized that the woman was about to spank her, only seconds before the first smack rang out, bringing a sharp sting to Jennifer's behind. "Ouch!" she yelled as the policewoman's firm palm kept landing on the seat of her jeans, the sting gradually building with every smack.

Roommate (F/F story)

 Ann looked around the apartment, shaking her head. "Look at this place!" she said, glaring at her roommate, Lisa, who was sitting in the couch with a book. "Are you EVER going to clean up?"

 

Lisa tried her best to look completely uninterested in what Ann was saying, but in reality, she was listening to every word, hoping for another threat like the last one.

 

Last month, Ann had gotten fed up with her roommate's inability to clean up after herself, and had lectured her about how difficult it was to do all the tidying up on her own. She'd picked up a hairbrush that Lisa for some reason or other had left on top of the TV, and pointed it at her roommate like a dangerous weapon. "You better watch yourself," she'd said. "If you don't start cleaning up, I'm going to pull you over my knee and blister you with this."

 

And she'd left the room, failing to see the look on Lisa's face as the threat went through her body like an electric current, making her gasp for air. She wasn't entirely sure why that threat had caused her blush and go weak-kneed like that, but there was no doubt it did. The idea of getting a spanking from Ann was incredibly scary, but disturbingly intriguing at the same time.

 

As the days passed, she watched Ann walk around in her short shorts, long legs on display, and started to imagine herself being pulled over those legs, bottom in the air.

 

The fantasies soon got stronger and more detailed. "You've been a bad girl, Lisa," Ann would say. "And now you're going to get it."

 

Lisa would plead for mercy, promise to do better in the future, but to no avail. Ann had made up her mind, and would punish her for her misbehaviour. Slowly, but mercilessly, she would cover her poor bottom with spanks, as Lisa cried into her pillow. Then, the poor girl would be forced to stand in the corner, with her bare bottom on display, but Ann would soon call her over – not to hug her and tell her she was forgiven, but to pull her back over her knee, brush in hand.

 

Lisa decided she wouldn't clean up the apartment, just to see what would happen.

 

 

"Are you listening to me?" Ann's angry lecturing brought Lisa back to the present.

 

"Every word," Lisa replied.

 

"How do you even MISPLACE some of these things?" She said in disbelief. She picked up a nearby sauce pot. "Why is this not in the kitchen? And this pile of clothes, are they clean or dirty? Either way, they shouldn't be here." Her eyes moved on, falling on the hairbrush on the TV again. Lisa could feel her hands shaking, and she put the book down so it would be less obvious.

 

"Hm," Ann said, smiling to herself. "Perhaps I SHOULD teach you a lesson with this." She looked over at her roommate. "What do you think, Lisa? Do you think a sore bottom would make you listen?"

 

Lisa looked at her, unsure if it was a serious threat or a joke. She considered her reply carefully, before glaring up at her tall, slender, sexy roommate. "You wouldn't dare."

 

As the tall blonde picked up the brush, marching towards her roommate with ill intent in her eyes, Lisa briefly wondered whether that was the wrong thing to say. Perhaps she should have apologized, promised to do better, done a better job of cleaning up in the future and forget this whole silly spanking business. But before she could take her words back, she found herself pulled over a firm set of thighs, a firm wooden brush about to meet her rear end.

 

Ann didn't waste any time with a warm-up, planting a series of firm, hard smacks on the seat of her shorts. Lisa cried out in shock; she hadn't expected a spanking to hurt like this. Soon, the unrelenting assault on her poor bottom had her kicking her legs.

 

"The brush seems to have an effect on you, little girl," Ann remarked, smirking. "Let's see what it does on the bare." And before Lisa could react, she'd grabbed her shorts, jerking them down to her knees. Her panties followed.

 

Ann continued her brush work, and Lisa howled like a banshee. She hadn't expected her thin shorts and panties to be much protection against the brush, but the difference was mind-boggling.

 

"I want you to start cleaning up after yourself," Ann lectured as if it came naturally to her. "I want you to pay attention when I'm telling you something." She delivered a series of hard smacks to Lisa's sit spots, causing her to cry out. "And I want you to keep in mind that I'll keep a brush around to remind you, in case you forget."

 

Finally, after what seemed like days of non-stop spanking, Ann put the brush down and allowed her friend to stand. She laughed as Lisa leapt from foot to foot, desperately trying to rub the sting out of her poor, abused rear. She picked up her clothes, which had been kicked off her legs some time ago, and retreated to her room to escape her laughter. Just before closing the door, she spotted Ann sitting there, self-satisfied smile dancing on her lips.

 

With her bared butt to the mirror, Lisa turned her head, gasping at the deep-red colour of her cheeks. That was HER bottom, all bruised and beaten like that. Her own two cheeks, finally spanked.

 

Now that it was over, and she was safe in her room again, Lisa found the warmth spreading through her quite pleasant, and she knew that she would find some way to get back over her lovely-looking roommate's knee. Once was not enough – couldn't be enough.

 

She slipped on her panties again, wincing as the fabric touched her skin. One thing was sure, she was going to mend her ways. She was going to keep the place spotless. At least until her bottom healed.

Going on the Web (F/M story)

 John looked over his shoulder, making sure he was still alone. If he was discovered going on the webpages he was currently on, he knew he'd be punished. But if he WASN'T discovered....

 

He opened another page, gasping at the female forms that filled the browser. He was lost in thought, imagining what he wanted to do to the beautiful women in the pictures, when he heard a small giggle behind him that made him jump three feet in the air. He whipped his head around. His younger stepsister was looking at him with like a cat that had just spotted a particularly slow, fat mouse. "What do you think you're doing, John?"

 

He opened his mouth, trying to find SOME excuse that would save his skin, but none came. She giggled even harder. "Don't even try, young man. We both know what you've been doing, and what I'M going to do about it, don't we?"

 

He blushed. He knew perfectly well what she was about to do.

 

"Why don't you go into my room and wait for me?" she said. "I'll be in shortly to spank your bratty little bottom." She giggled again. "Oh, you're in for it now! Your butt is going to BURN!"

 

A few minutes later, he was sitting on the bed in her room, waiting for those familiar footsteps that would spell certain doom for his ability to sit. He wanted to get it over with, so that he wouldn't have to sit there worrying. Suddenly, he heard her steps. She walked firmly, but slowly, and he knew she did it to drag out his torment. But finally – or perhaps all too soon? - she reached the door, opening it. She grinned as she saw him sitting there. He had a feeling she'd be grinning a lot today.

 

"Right," she said. "You know why you're here, so there's no need for me to remind you." She sat down on the bed and clapped her hands. "Stand up and strip."

 

"S...strip?" he said nervously.

 

"Off with every stitch," she said joyously. "I think the added humiliation will be good for you."

 

He rose to his feet, and with shaking hands, started to take off his trousers. Despite the fact that she was younger than him, and had no actual authority over him, the thought of resisting her never entered his mind, and even if it had, he'd push it away. She was in charge, and he obeyed. That was the way it had always been.

 

He blushed bright red as he put his thumbs in the waistband of his boxers, pulling them off. He was now completely nude.

 

"Been working out, John?" She patted her lap. "Over here, then. Let's get this show on the road."

 

He placed himself over her lap, feeling her soft legs under his stomach. She placed her hand on his bottom, giving it a quick pinch. The fact that her soft hands would soon cause him so much pain seemed completely absurd.

 

He cried out as the first few smacks landed on his unprotected rear end, followed by many more. Her hand moved from cheek to cheek, each spank harder than the last. He felt tears in his eyes, and soon, he was kicking his legs.

 

"I hope you're learning your lesson, young man," she said. "I won't hesitate to spank you every night for a week if I think you need it." And with a few last smacks, she sent him to the corner.

 

He stood there, hands on his head and bottom on display, the way she'd taught him over the years. He blushed as he heard her giggle. He knew she loved watching his 'cute little butt', as she put it, as it was displayed in the corner. It was one of her favourite sights, and she had a cell phone full of pictures of it to prove it. From time to time, she'd threaten to send a couple of them to the girls in his class, but luckily, she'd been bluffing. At least so far.

 

After fifteen minutes, she told him to get out of the corner. He was about to reach for his clothes, when he noticed that she was still sitting on the bed, and now, she was holding a very big, very mean-looking hairbrush.

 

"You can't..."

 

"What's that, John?" she asked innocently. "Can't what?"

 

"You can't be thinking of using... THAT on me?"

 

"This?" she said, holding the brush up as if she'd only now noticed it. "You think I plan on spanking you with this? You think I'm planning on smacking your sore little butt with it until you can't sit for a week?" She gave him her friendliest smile. "Well, how right you are!"

 

"Please, no more!" He'd felt her brush a few times before, and was in no hurry to repeat the experience. "I've learned my lesson, honest!"

 

She tutted. "Has pleading ever saved your rear end from my wrath, Johnnie boy?" He shook it his head. "And it's not going to do it now, either." She patted her lap. "Get your butt over here now, little boy. If I have to come get you, you will regret it."

 

Defeated, he did as she instructed. He gasped as the cool wood of the brush rubbed against his bottom, goosebumps forming as he thought about how much it would sting in just a few seconds. She lifted the brush, swinging it down at his rear, and he realized how unprepared he had been. Then again, he would never be prepared for the biting pain of that accursed piece of wood.

 

"You are a naughty, filthy little boy," she said as the lifted the brush, bringing it enthusiastically down on his hind quarters. "And now, you have to pay for it."

 

He was sobbing into the bed, all fight and all rational thought driven from him by the pain of the horrible, horrible brush. By the time she put the brush down, rubbing to calm him down, his bottom was bright red, and heavily bruised.

 

"You should see your butt right now," she giggled. "Such a lovely sight."

 

He had a feeling he wouldn't share her view, but decided not to inform her of that.

 

"I should show you some proper web pages later," she said as he rose to his feet, trying in vain to rub the sting away. "Sites about strict women teaching naughty boys how to behave. Would you like that, little brat? Would you like me to show you those sites?"

 

He thought about it. Would declining her offer put his bottom in danger? If it did, the choice was easy.

Secretary's Secret (M/F story)

There was a knock on the door, and I looked up from the papers I had been studying. In came Jenna, our newest secretary. "You asked for me, sir?"

 

Jenna was a short brunette with a friendly smile, and one of the cutest girls I'd ever met. She was one of the most popular girls in the building. Unfortunately, she was also one of the laziest. Jenna had only been working with us a couple of weeks, and when she was at her desk working, she worked at an impressive speed. But far too often, I had found her talking with the other secretaries, or just wandering around in the building.

 

"You know why you are here, Jenna."

 

She nodded; I had talked to her about her problems before. She had promised to improve.

 

"And you still waste far too much of your time."

 

Jenna looked at me, and I could almost see tears in her eyes. "Haven't I improved, sir?"

 

I admitted that she had, but that she still had a long way to go. "Therefore," I told her, "I have decided to let you go."

 

By now, I could actually see the tears in the corner of her eyes. "But please sir, I'll try harder, just-"

 

"I have said all there is to say, Jenna."

 

"But sir! Please give me another chance, just a few weeks, please, sir." Now the tears were running down her cheeks.

 

"I have given you several weeks already," I said, expecting the matter to be over.

 

"But please, sir, I'll do anything, but I can't lose my job now!"

 

I couldn't help myself; I felt sorry for the girl with the big brown eyes. She could tell I was considering the situation, so she sent me a warm smile. That settled it. There was no way I could fire her now. But something had to be done. I looked at her. With those big, wet eyes and the pigtails she always wore, she looked like a scared child. Maybe that's why the idea popped into my head. And the more I thought about it, the more I liked it.

 

"Your problem,” I told her, “Is that you can't concentrate on the task at hand long enough. You lack discipline. And if you can't provide it, maybe I should."

 

"What do you mean, sir?"

 

“I mean that there is one way for you to keep your job: I take you over my knee and spank you.”

 

There was an audible intake of breath, and Jenna looked down on the floor, unable to meet my gaze. Her cheeks were blushing furiously. “But sir, I -”

 

“That is the deal, Jenna. Either leave, or bend over my lap.”

 

To my surprise, Jenna didn't sit there thinking about it for long. She slowly rose to her feet and walked over to stand next to me. I wheeled the chair back, straightened my lap and guided her over it.

 

As I rubbed the short black skirt now lying over my lap, it occurred to me that this could lead to a sexual harassment suit. But sod it, I thought. She wanted me to find a solution, I found one, and she accepted.

 

I started smacking her bottom, wasting no time on warm-up or a slow start, just smacking away quite hard. I wanted to get this over with as soon as possible. As, I suspect, did she.

 

At the start, Jenna just lay over my lap, not moving a muscle. Soon, however, the heat started to build up, and she started kicking her legs. I paused the spanking and told her to lie still.

 

“But it hurts,” she told me.

 

“I know, that's the point.”

 

I continued the spanking, and Jenna continued the kicking. But I decided that the thick skirt was providing too much protection, so I grabbed the hemline and started to raise it.

 

“Please, sir, you can't raise my skirt!”

 

“I can and I will. You agreed to this, now take it.”

 

I started to smack her black panties. As my hand met her rear, her cheeks wobbled up and down. Jenna cried out; it was clear it was much more painful without the skirt.

 

I spanked hard and fast, showering her bottom with spanks. Tears were running freely, and by now I had to hold tightly on to the girl to keep her from kicking off my lap. I kept on smacking, and the bottom in front of me turned from light pink, to darker pink, to red.

 

When I was satisfied that she had learned her lesson, I helped Jenna to her feet. To my surprise, she immediately closed her hands around me, leaning her head against my chest in a hug. We stood there for a while, she crying into my chest and I feebly rubbing her back to calm her down.

 

When she had calmed down enough, Jenna surprised me yet again by thanking me for the spanking. She rubbed her sore bottom through her thick skirt and told me that I had provided some discipline she had sorely lacked. She went back to work, and so did I. For some time, however, I found it difficult to focus.

 

During the next few days, Jenna's work ethic improved, but she still spent a lot of time wandering the halls. I wanted to call her into my office again, but I had promised her two weeks to shape up, and I would give her those. At the end of them, however, I would call her back into my office, and tell her she was fired. Or perhaps I wouldn't. Perhaps I would give her another dose of the old-fashioned medicine. The second option sounded more appealing.

 

Ten days after the incident, however, something happened. There had been talk about the firm being bought up by a rich businessman for some time, and this morning, we learned the rumours were true. Our manager gave the man a tour of his new property, when our new boss dropped the bombshell.

 

For about a month, he said, his daughter had been working at the office in secret, seeing if we were as hard-working and skilled as he had heard. Obviously, she had decided we were. And Jenna walked forward, giving her father a hug.

 

I was sitting in my office, my head in my hands. My colleagues had headed off to a celebration of the transfer of the firm, but I was sitting in the dark of my office trying to digest the new information.

 

A spanking. I had actually spanked the boss's daughter. His daughter, whom he always listened to. I realized now that she could have me fired with a single word. I wondered if there was a word to describe a screw-up of this magnitude. I decided there wasn't. I briefly considered making one.

 

Suddenly, there was a knock on the door. It was Jenna, but not the Jenna who had worked for me, the lazy, talkative secretary. This was the real Jenna, a self-secure young woman who was her father's most effective worker.  I realized how efficient she was. She had pretended to be someone completely different, worn her like an outfit, all the while studying the firm, judging us, stealthily luring information out of the other secretaries. She was good.

 

“Mind if I come in?” she said, flashing a smile at me. She sat down on the chair in front of my desk. For the next few minutes, neither of us said a word.

 

“I'm so sorry,” I told her at last. “What I did was inexcusable, it was -”

 

“You did what you had to. You looked for an alternative to firing me, and you found one. Besides, I could have solved the situation easily. I could have phoned my father and asked him to explain the situation to you. I had already decided you could be trusted with the secret if it came to that.”

 

I looked at her, not even trying to hide my confusion. The whole day had been too much for my poor head, it felt like the puzzle was lacking a vital piece, a single piece of information that would make everything make sense. But I didn't have it.

 

She sighed, obviously annoyed at my ignorance. Then she smiled. “You know, I haven't been completely honest with you. I've been working here almost a month, and I could have told you this at any point. I've been withholding information, almost as bad as lying.” She stood up. “I guess you can say...” she said as she walked around the desk, “... I've been a bad girl.” With that, she leaned forward, pushing my chair back. She flipped her skirt up, leaning over my lap. As I sat there, staring at that beautiful bottom again, she looked at me with a stare that told me to get on with it.

 

I smiled. The missing piece of the puzzle. I lifted my hand and started smacking the willing bottom of the woman that would, in a year's time, be my wife.