Category: Stories

The Dance – part one

Kalidwen1 Comment

‘WHERE IS SHE?’ Cindy roared as she entered the communal area of her college dorm, ‘Where is that fat German slut?’

Her friend, Abi, came to her, puzzled. ‘Cind,’ she said, ‘what are you talking about?’

‘The German brat! yelled Cindy, ‘That girl that joined at the start of the year!’

‘You mean Susanna?’, asked Abi.

‘Yes! That kraut slut!’

‘Hum, I think she’s in the study ro—’

Cindy was already running towards the room. She all but kicked the door and stared at Susanna, who had nearly jumped out of her chair, her book falling down to the floor.

‘There you are!’ said Cindy, triumphally. She planted her hands on her hips.

‘J-ja? Here I am? W-why?’ said the plump German student, readjusting her glasses on her nose.

Cindy crossed her arms. ‘You fat slut, you know why!’

Susanna looked more puzzled than ever. ‘W-what? How am I a… a s-slut?’ she mumbled.

‘Well it’s obvious! With your big tits always showing and your nerdy glasses, I’ve seen how you strut around! I bet you’ve been giving all the boys BJs in the toilets as well. That’s it, isn’t it? Is that your big fantasy? Coming abroad and fucking as many men as you can?’

‘Was? Nein! No! I never did any of this!’ said the German, blushing hard.

‘Yes you did! There’s no way Brad would go to the Dance with you otherwise!’

‘I… I… He just asked me if I wanted to go with him, und-and… I said I would, that’s it!’

‘Well Brad is not going to go with you, you disgusting pervert!’ yelled Cindy, ‘He’s gonna go with me.’ She closed the study-room’s door and continued, ‘And I’m gonna show you how we deal we German sluts around here…’

Rounding on Susanna, she grabbed her hair and forced her up. The exchange student yelped and Cindy took her place down on the chair, then pulled harder on her victim’s hair and forced her to lie over her knees.

‘Nein! What are you doing?!’ cried Susanna, finding herself very vulnerable all of a sudden, her bottom up in the air over the crazy blond girl’s lap. She had seen her lot of hazing and mean pranks since arriving from her homeland but that seemed entirely different.

Cindy’s hand fell down on her rump with a loud noise that made Susanna jump. A split second later, she registered the pain and whimpered. ‘Nein! No!’ Cindy didn’t let up, and spank after hard spank fell down on the German’s bottom, making them bounce and burn even through the jeans she was wearing. All the while, Cindy was scolding her, yelling invectives and accusing her of a whole spectrum of inappropriate acts. Tears welled up in Susanna’s eyes, and rolled down her cheeks as she tried to explain that she had never, would never do such things. Her English, ordinarily virtually flawless, was unravelling, and she found herself using more and more German as she sobbed.

After what felt like an eternity, Cindy forced her up again and grabbed Susanna’s jeans and started to undo the button. Stunned, Susanna barely resisted, rubbing her bottom and sniffling hard. ‘Bitte… Please, C-Cindy… Please… I… You can go mit Brad, I don’t mind. Es… Es tut mir leid… I’m sorry…’

Cindy sneered, ‘Least you can do is speak English, you stupid cow!’

‘I’m sorry!’ cried Susanna, feeling Cindy pulling her trousers and panties down to her mid-thighs. She didn’t even know what as happening anymore. All she knew is that her ass was on fire, and that she wanted to be back home, were people weren’t crazy. Cindy pulled her hair again and she found herself on the blond girl’s lap once more, her bottom naked and throbbing with pain.

The slaps came as she knew they would, hard, fast, utterly humiliating. She couldn’t stop the tears, she could barely articulate little ‘Neins’ in between all the sobs and sniffles. Thankfully, Cindy had stopped yelling, instead focusing on inflicting as much pain as possible to her victim, it seemed.

After a few more interminable minutes, the door of the study room opened, and she heard a gasp. Looking up, she saw one of the other girls —Abi, she thought— a horrified look on her face.

‘Cindy, what the fuck?’ the other girl said, ‘Stop it!’

‘It’s all that brat deserves,’ Cindy said with a merciless grin, and she slapped Susanna’s ample bottom once more, making it wobble while the girl cried out.

‘Stop it! You’re gonna get in trouble!’ Abi pleaded.

‘She won’t say anything, will you, Slut-anna?’

‘N-no, ma’am…’ the German girl managed between sobs.

‘See?’ Cindy said, still grinning.

‘Come on…’ Abi said.

Rolling her eyes, Cindy pushed Susanna off her lap and left with her friend, leaving the German girl sobbing on the floor and rubbing her burning hot bottom. They were all crazy, she decided, all of them. Should she tell Brad? The tall, muscular boy had seemed really nice, but it might have been a prank as well. She was lost. Truly, there was no place like home.

Landlord visit

Kalidwen1 Comment

Claire whistled as she came down the stairs. The 22-year-old student was in a good mood, and was ready to go out with her friends, global pandemic be damned. She jumped over a pile of random boxes and glanced at the kitchen sink as she passed it in the corridor. It was full —had been for a week, really. But who cared? Sure, there was an ecosystem developing in there, but wasn’t like she was getting visitors, and doing the washing-up was boring anyway.

She slipped-on a pair of trainers and was about to open the door when somebody knocked. She jumped. As far as she knew, she wasn’t expecting any delivery. Startled, she adjusted the glasses on her nose and hesitantly unlocked and opened the door. In the corridor stood her landlord, his arms crossed over his chest.

“Ah, Claire, there you are!” he said, “I’ve been trying to reach you for weeks!”

“Hum, err, I…” she mumbled, blushing. Yes, there was that little issue of the rent not having been paid for the last two months; that had totally slipped her mind.

“Can I come in?” he said, his tone making it clear the question was purely rhetorical. She moved away from the door to let him in.

He looked around and raised a concerned eyebrow gazing at the absolute mess, the old pizza boxes, the dirty socks, the empty bottles, and more besides. Claire was looking down at the floor, twisting her hands together as her cheeks burned with shame.

“I…” she started, not finding anything more to say. The pink-haired student, normally so bubbly, couldn’t see a way to justify how she had let herself go so badly. Blame it on COVID, she thought, half-heartedly. She knew it wasn’t that. She was a procrastinating slob at the moment, and she could only blame herself for it.

Her landlord, Mr Dawson, seemed at a loss for words just as much as she was. He was slowly shaking his head in disbelief and making his way towards the kitchen. Panic settled in Claire’s gut and she blurted out, “Wh-what can I do for you, Sir?”

He turned around, his hands on his hips. “Well, I came to check you were all right, since you weren’t answering your phone, or emails, or texts…”

“Hum… Yes… I was, err, I’ve been very busy you see and…”

“I can see that…” he said, looking around in dismay. She nodded nervously and looked down, her blushing showing no sign of going away. He continued, “Mostly, we need to talk about your unpaid rent…”

She looked up, shyly, then down again. “I know, I’m sorry…” she mumbled.

“I know things are tough at the moment, Claire,” he started, then pointed at all the delivery food packages strewn around, “But I’m not sure you have your priorities straight…”

“No Sir…” she whispered.

“What was that?”

“No Sir,” she said again, louder.

“Do you think this how you should keep your flat?” he continued, gesturing at their surroundings.

“No Sir…”

“And about the rent?”

“I will pay it, Sir…” she said, her head still bowed.

“In full and on time?”

“Y-yes, Sir…”

“All right, I’ll give you until the end of the week…”

“Thank you, s—”

“I’m not finished!” Mr Dawson interrupted, “I will be back on Sunday to check that you’ve cleaned this mess, and for the rent. And before I go, I’m going to give you a taste of the consequences, should either not be done by then.”

“Con-consequences, Sir?” she said, looking up at him worriedly.

He cleaned an old Domino’s box off a chair. “You are going to come over my lap, and I’m going to spank your bare bottom, young lady.”

Young lady? She thought. He was not a decade older than she was. Wait, that wasn’t even the point, she corrected herself. A spanking? What was he talking about?

“I… I don’t think you can do that…” she said, looking away.

“No? Don’t you think you deserve one? Look at this place! It was just re-done when you came in. I remember your mother telling me how you were a very neat and ordered student…”

“Yes…”

“Do you want her to know about this mess you’ve done?”

“No! Please…”

“And I can only guess at how your university work is going…”

She said nothing. Tears were welling in her eyes. She was a mess, she knew it. She missed home, she missed rules, she missed being held accountable. Yet… a spanking?! Like a misbehaving brat?…

He sat down on the chair, waiting for the cogs to stop turning in her head. Finally, she bowed her head and shuffled her way to him, walking around a mouldy curry tupperware and what looked like the rest of some Chinese. He pointed at her jeans. “Pull them down”

“Please, Sir…”

“Pull. Them. Down.” he said, unmoved by the tears of shame that already had started rolling down her cheeks. She bit her lip and undid her belt buckle, then pushed her tight jeans down, revealing a tiny pair of white panties. He was gracious enough not to comment further and indicated her over with a shove of his head. She approached, closed her eyes, and went to lay across his lap. She felt his firm hand holding her side and she shuffled slightly, trying to find some comfortable position despite the shame and humiliation. Her comfort, however, was the least of Mr Dawson’s concerns, and he made that very clear when the first of many heavy slaps landed on her perky, offered bottom.

“Owww!” she yelled out in pain and surprise. Sure, she’d been spanked before, but he was clearly not going easy on her. Each slap made her wince in pain and kick her legs. After a dozen slaps, she was already crying openly. “Please! Sir! Mr Dawson!” she cried, trying to wiggle her way off his lap. He held her in place, unwavering. Clearly, he had done that before. “That’s enough! Owww! I’ll clean up! Please!” Relentless, the slaps came, hard and fast, a staccato of pain on her rump.

“STOP!” she yelled and tried to protect her burning cheeks with her hand. He paused. For a moment, she thought he had listened, and that her nightmare was over. she lowered her shoulders and sniffled. “Let me go, Sir… I..” Then his hand grabbed the elastic band of her panties, and she panicked.

“No! Nonononono! Please!”

“I told you I was going to spank your bare bottom.” he said, matter-of-factly.

“No, please! I’ll clean! I’ll pay the rent on time! I’ll do anything you want!”

With one pull, her panties were down to her mid-thighs and her bottom bared for him to admire and punish as he willed. She clenched her buttocks, foolishly hoping to hide her intimacy and to make what she knew was coming hurt less. With the first slap, she knew it wouldn’t work.

The thin fabric of her panties hadn’t protected her much, she knew, and maybe it was all psychological, but the flesh-on-flesh slaps felt ten times worse. Maybe it was that her bottom was already burning, maybe it was the sheer humiliation of having her ass bared for a man —pretty much a stranger— to see. She wailed with every merciless slap, knowing that there was nothing she could do to stop them. Through her tears, she looked at the mess around her, and knew that it was what she needed. I will change she thought with every stroke of Mr Dawson’s large hand, I will change, I will change, I will change, I will change…

Finally, after an eternity of pain and tears, she found herself standing in the corner, her hands over her head, her burning cheeks on display. Her phone on the coffee table was counting down 45 minutes, and even though she knew that Mr Dawson had left, she dared not move away from the corner. The mantra kept repeating in her head, I will change, I will change, I will change, I will change…

She would make him proud on Sunday. Her burning bottom was a dire reminder of the consequences if she didn’t. But mostly, she knew that she would make herself proud.

Rhetorical

KalidwenLeave a comment

“It’s not faaaaair!” she yells as the slaps rain down on her bottom. He doesn’t listen, his hand coming down hard and making her cry out in pain once more. Her bottom, red even before he pulled her panties down, is throbbing with pain. Added to the pain is the humiliation of knowing that her pussy is on display, wet with desire, all but begging for his cock. And he won’t give it to her.

“Please!” she pleads once more. He ignores her, the slaps steady and merciless.

“It’s extremely fair,” he says between two hard slaps.

“But…” She bites her lips, stiffling a moan as his hand spreads and caresses her burning cheeks.

“What was the rule?” he asks, punctuating the question with a sharp slap.

“Ooww!”

“What was the rule?” he asks again, spanking her harder.

“Oww! No… Oww!! No porn during working hours…”

“And what were you doing?”

“I… Please…”

“What *SMACK!* were *SMACK!* you *SMACK!* doing?”

“I was… watching… naughty things, but…

“But?”

“Working from home is so boooooring! It’s not fair!”

“You know how you get…” he says, his hand lightly brushing her dripping pussy, sending shivers up your spine, “You get yourself crazy excited, and then you come and distract me… I have to work too…”

“Mmmmhm… Yes… Distracting, yes…” she says, moaning. She feels his hard cock against her belly and his fingers linger, caressing, probing her. She closes her eyes. He finally realises that ending over his lap was her plan all along. “You’re not even sorry, are you?” he says.

A rhetorical question.

Stowaway

Kalidwen2 Comments

It was when food started to mysteriously vanish from his cabin that Captain Flintsworth became suspicious. Knowing his crew, there was little chance they would be drawn to fruit when there was plenty of jerky and ale below deck. The HMS Exultant was a 3rd rate ship of the line, and boasted a crew of nearly six hundred sailors, none of which, he thought, would risk being caught in his cabin just for some taste of aging fruit. That, and the fact his prized bottles of fine whisky and rums had been left undisturbed left him unsettled. Yes, he thought to himself, the case of the vanishing fruit was most suspicious indeed.

In more busy days, he would probably have forgotten about it, or, more likely, wouldn’t have noticed in the first place. A ship this big was like a little village, and there was always something to do, orders to give, people to supervise, courses to plan. The 70 guns that adorned the Exultant weren’t for show, and he had pirates to hunt for the glory of Britannia.

Still, the seas were calm, and they were a long way yet from the pirates’ most frequented routes. Smooth sailing so far had meant that the Captain had had time on his hands. One evening, after noticing that, once more, somebody had been in his cabin in his absence, he decided to catch the thief in the act. Insubordination was better dealt with while they were in untroubled waters. Who knew what could happen later… The next morning, he put a new display of fresh fruit —well, as fresh as he could have them— in evidence, and, having given discreet orders not to be disturbed for the day, he lay in wait, hidden behind a carved panel that cleverly concealed a little nook in the side of the cabin.

The hours passed with monotonous boredom. He could hear his first mate yelling at the sailors, the rush of the waves against the ship, and the wind blowing in her sails. Still, the food lay undisturbed. Maybe, he thought, this was just his mind playing tricks on him. Maybe he had just been eating the fruit himself, distracted by one of his many tasks. Maybe he had caught some illness of the mind… No! he told himself. He was sound of body and mind, he knew he was. That nagging doubt, that gut feeling was enough for him. He had risen to captaincy by trusting his instincts, and they wouldn’t let him down this time either.

Noon came and went, and he wished he had taken food with him in his secreted alcove. Yet, he prided himself for his self-discipline, and didn’t relent. He would catch the thief, and he would see to his punishment personally.

Another hour went by, and another. Finally, as he was about to give up, eyeing the dark brown rum bottle on the side to drown his sorrow, there was movement. To his surprise, it didn’t come from the cabin’s door, but from the windowed gallery that lined the stern. Someone was getting in through the narrow windows. Someone small and remarkably nimble. Young, for sure, one of the ship boys.

The intruder looked around, suspiciously, and got to the table where the fruit awaited. Quickly, he pocketed an apple, grabbed another and took a huge bite out of it. The Captain, triumphant that his instincts had been right, but confused as to who that ship boy was, all but lept out of his hiding place and grabbed the boy’s wrist.

“Now I have you, little thief!”

The boy let out an anguished cry that seemed an octave too high and tried to escape. As he did so, the Captain’s suspicion got stronger, and he grabbed the thief’s oilskin jacket, pulling it off.

Underneath it was, clearly, not a ship boy. Wearing a leather corset and a puffed-sleeves shirt that used to be white over a pair of leather breeches, the thief was a young woman.

“Let me go!” she pleaded, terrified.

“Who in the heavens are you?” he asked, sternly.

“No one! Let me go!”

“No one, huh? I don’t think so. I think you’re a stowaway, young lass, and a thieving one at that.”

“I was hungry, I was!”

“Why are you on board? Answer me!”

“I…”

“Well?”

“I want to sail the seas! I want to fight ’em pirates!”

“You… What?”

“For England! For the Queen!”

“Yes, yes, Glory to Britannia and all. It doesn’t explain how you got on my ship, and how you think you’re going to defeat pirates if you’re a thief, no better than them!”

“I… I was just hungry!”

“You will adress me as Captain, understood?”

“Y-yes…”

“Yes Captain!”

“Yes Captain…” the girl said, hesitantly.

“Better. Sit.”

He forced her down on a chair.

“What is your name?” he asked.

“Is-Isabelle, Sir, Captain, Sir.”

“Captain will do.”

“Yes, Captain, Sir.”

He raised an eyebrow. “Right… What am I going to do with you, Isabelle?”

“I… I don’t know Sir, I mean, Captain.”

He rubbed the bridge of his nose.

“I can’t have a woman on board.”

“But…”

“It’s bad luck.”

“You don’t—”

“But more importantly,” in interrupted, “there are 600 men on board, who haven’t seen a woman since we set sail. How did you stay hidden for weeks?”

“I know my way ’round ships, Captain… My da is a shipbuilder, he is.”

“I see… Well that doesn’t help me, does it…”

“Maybe…”

“Yes?”

“Maybe I could… Be your servant? Keep your room—”

“Cabin.”

“…Your cabin in order and such things?”

“A maid?”

“I would serve you well, Captain, been a maid since I was 6, me.”

He eyed her up and down.

“Were did you find these breeches? And the oilskin?”

“Nicked them from my brothers…”

“And the corset?”

“… A wench at the tavern…”

He shook his head.

“The shirt was mine!” she said with a warm smile. “Ma would have tanned my hide if I’d lost it”

“She would have, would she?”

“Oh for sure, Captain. ‘Never too old for a spanking’, my Ma says.” She nodded, gravely.

“Well, I agree with that!” the Captain said with a dry smile. “Get up”

She obeyed and he took her place on the chair.

“I cannot in good conscience let you out of the cabin, it is far too dangerous out there for a young lass. Maybe keeping you as a servant could work…”

She nodded enthusiastically and opened her mouth to say something, but the Captain lifted a finger up.

“However!” he continued, “thievery is a crime, and crimes must be punished. Your Ma is a wise woman, she must have had the measure of you.”

“What… What do you mean, S-sir? Captain!”

“I mean I’ll be the one to tan your hide, Isabelle, and you better believe I won’t go easy on you!”

“Oh but… Ca-Captain…”

“Pull your breeches down,” he said, his voice commanding.

She blushed and looked at the windows, then at the door. Finally, she looked back at him, his arms crossed over his chest. Her shoulders sagged and she sighed.

“Y-yes, Captain…”

Her leather breeches pulled half-way down her thighs, she came to lay upon his lap, a thin piece of home-sewed undergarment barely covering her pearly white buttocks. He wasted no time asserting control and pulled them down to her thighs as well. She let out a pip of embarrassment but said nothing, fully aware that her fate was, quite literally, in his hands.

Immediately, his large, callous hands fell down on her rear, making her yelp and scream. She kicked her legs as more slaps rained down, accompanied by the Captain’s scolding. Theft, lies, deception, hiding herself aboard his ship, there were countless things to atone for. Her bottom jiggled and bounced under the slaps, and tears streamed down her blushing cheeks. Both the heavy slaps and her cries were covered by the waves, the sails and the creaking of the boat. Still, she expected the door to barge open at any point, letting in countless sailors to witness her humiliation and exposed intimacy.

The door stayed closed, mercifully, but the punishment only gained in intensity. Large, broad slaps were falling down on her burning ass, and she begged the Captain for mercy, for leniency, for respite. She promised him everything she could promess, she said again and again that she was sorry, that she would make it up to him. She wore it on her Ma, on her Dad and on the Throne of England. She cried, and moaned and begged again until, at last, he relented and let her catch her breath.

Getting her off his knees, he led her to the hitherto hidden alcove and had her stand in it, her hands over her head, her bruising, fire-red bottom on display for his enjoyment. Bad luck or not, he thought, she was there to stay. He found that he didn’t mind. He was sure Britannia would understand. Call it a gut-feeling.

Jalouse

KalidwenLeave a comment

—Et ça, c’est qui?

—Ben c’est Catherine, c’est marqué.

—Et c’est qui, ça, Catherine ?

—Mais tu l’as rencontrée, Catherine, du boulot…

—Ah ouais?

—Ouais, 55 ans, trois gamins, la frange comme ça.

—Mouais… Et celle-là ? Élodie ?

—La femme d’Henri ?

—Elle s’appelle Élodie ?

—On a diné tous ensemble, Julie…

—Oui, oui… Sandy ? C’est quoi ce prénom ?

—L’américaine.

—Ah bah bravo, exotique, tout ça… t’es vraiment un beau sal—

—Sandy, la lesbienne américaine, oui.

—Ah…

—Oui… C’est bon, t’as fini ?

—De ?

—Da faire ta jalouse ?

—Chuis pas jalouse.

—Ah bah pourtant…

—Non.

—D’aaaaccord. Tu me donne mon portable ?

—Oui, une minute… Lise ?

—Ben ma maîtresse.

—Quoi ?!

—Oh non, oups, je suis découvert, trop ballot…

—Pffff, t’es bête…

—Et toi t’es jalouse.

—Oui. Tes mains, elles sont à moi.

—Juste mes mains ?

—Le reste aussi, mais là, c’est tes mains que je veux.

—Où ça ?

—Commence par mes fesses… Et ne te retiens pas…

—Sinon quoi ?

—Sinon j’appelle mon amant, oh !

While the Cat’s Away…

Kalidwen1 Comment

“Unacceptable!” Madame Clairmont muttered as her hand came down on her maid’s already reddened bottom.

“Just unacceptable!” she said again, her ire making her slaps all the harder.

“Nein! Madame, please!” Belinda pleaded, tears rolling down her blushing cheeks.

The stern older woman kept repeating the same word, like a mantra, marking every syllable with a heavy slap.

“Un- *SMACK!* ac- *SMACK!* cept- *SMACK!* ta- *SMACK!* ble!”

Older or not, Madame’s hand didn’t seem to tire, and Belinda kept clenching and unclenching her buttocks, moaning in pain, begging for mercy.

*SMACK!* *SMACK!* *SMACK!* *SMACK!* *SMACK!* it continued.

It had all started when Madame Clairmont had left that morning, leaving Belinda, her German maid, to do her usual cleaning of the house. As she did every morning, Belinda had opened the windows to let the fresh morning air in. Suddenly, a cat had jumped through the window, and proceeded to run straight for the kitchen. “Was zur Hölle!” exclaimed the young, surprised Belinda, and she ran after it.  As she did so, her feather-duster hit Madame’s jewellery stand and the precious earrings and necklaces fell on the floor. As she paused to try and pick some off the floor, she heard a loud crash in the living room. She hurried herself there, only to find a vase in pieces on the floor. Oh Scheiße… she thought and went after the cat.

It had reached the kitchen, making straight for the work surface where food lay, ready to be prepared. The fresh fish seemed to be of particular interest to the kitty, and, having grabbed one, it jumped back towards the living room, passing between Belinda’s legs. She turned around only to see the cat dragging the wet, smelly fish all over the dense, expensive carpet. Ach du heilige Scheiße!

“Komm hierher!” she called the cat, who let the fish fall down on the carpet in a wet splosh to meow at her. Just as she thought she might catch the elusive intruder, it run away again, and in her hurry, Belinda slipped on the fish. She fell down and crashed into the coffee table, sending the ashtray that was on it to the ground. Of course, she hadn’t emptied it yet. Madame tended to smoke a few cigarettes in the morning, she knew. It was now all over the fishy carpet. Das kann doch nicht wahr sein!!!

The accursed Katze meowed again, as if mocking her, and she got up, her vengeful feather-duster held high. Finally, she managed to chase the cat out the window it had come in. As she caught her breath, trying to process what had just happened, she heard the unmistakable click of the front door opening. She closed her eyes. Surely, this was all a bad dream.

“OH MON DIEU!” she heard Madame Clairmont say, and then a loud “BELINDA!”

Before she could offer an explanation, stammering as she was in a mix of German and French, Madame had pulled her over her lap, pulled her skirt up and started raining hard slaps on her quivering bottom. The small thong that she was wearing didn’t afford her any protection, and she felt Madame’s anger in full. “Unacceptable, Belinda,” Madame Clairmont was saying in her thick French accent, “Totally unacceptable!”

And the slaps came, and came, and came again. Belinda was crying, begging, still trying to explain what had happened as her bottom turned from pink to red to dark, throbbing crimson. As more slaps came down, she could swear she heard a mocking meow in the background.

Tears

KalidwenLeave a comment

Why do I love you even more when tears roll down your face?

Why does your pain make me feel good?

Why do you look so beautiful when you’re begging for mercy?

Why, my love, did you choose me?

Why do I love you even more when you make me cry?

Why does my pain make me feel so good?

Why do you look so beautiful when you are merciless?

Why, my love, did you choose me?

A bet is a bet

Kalidwen2 Comments

The ping-pong ball landed in the cup.

“Whoohoo! I won!” Juliette announced triumphantly.

“Oh come on…” Nina answered, dejected.

“A bet’s a bet!” the winner said gleefully.

“I guess…” Nina said, looking away.

“What? Are you going to pussy out?” Juliette grinned.

“You won, can’t that be enough?” pouted Nina.

“Well you would say that…” Juliette said, crossing her arms over her ample chest.

Juliette looked around at the twenty-odd people having fun and drinking in the living room.

“Come on, please… You’re not really going to… spank me, are you?”

“Oh I definitely am! You lost the bet! No backsies,” said Juliette.

“Nobody likes a gloater…”

“Or someone who chickens out…” Another grin.

Nina blushed, looking down.

“Fine… Can we at least do it… Privately?” she asked, timid.

“Well, then I get an extra.” Juliette said after a pause.

“What sort of extra?”

“No panties!”

“What?”

“You heard me.”

“But…”

“Or we can do it here in front of everyone, I don’t mind!” Juliette said, her hand firmly planted on her wide hips.

Nina looked around again. She was wearing a short skirt, a little crop top… Why had she chosen to wear stockings underneath it tonight? Sure, there was a chance that she would get in bed with Tom, but still, it was turning out to be a bad decision. Then again, so was taking that stupid bet. Bad decisions were her specialty lately, it seemed. She looked up at Juliette, who was preparing to make a scene and alert everyone.

“Fine, fine! Let’s go to the bedroom…”

With a wide smile, Juliette took Nina’s hand and let her guide her upstairs. Juliette, if she was honest with herself, had had her eyes on sweet little Nina for a while. She was exactly the type of girl she liked, a little shy, but with a wilder side underneath the bookish veneer. Well, that and her cute round ass, of course. They got to the bedroom, and she closed the door behind them.

Giggling slightly, Juliette pulled the chair from under the desk and sat on it. Nina was looking at the floor, a finger to her lips.

“Well?” asked Juliette.

“Well what?”

“I can’t see any panties on that floor…”

Biting her lip, Nina slid her hands under her skirt, and slowly pulled her panties all the way down her long legs. She hooped it over her heels and held it in her hand, unsure of what to do with them. Juliette whistled.

“Nice! The boys downstairs would have liked that!”

Nina said nothing. She bit her lip.

“You coming?”

Nina nodded and came to rest over Juliette’s lap, throwing the panties on the bed. She was shaking slightly. Juliette didn’t wait a minute to pull her skirt up, revealing that ass that she’d been eyeing all semester. The garters framing it made it all the cuter. She purred.

“It won’t be that bad, you’ll see!”

“Easy for you to say!”

Juliette laughed, and her hand fell on Nina’s bottom with a sharp *SMACK!* The poor girl moaned a little cry, and the hand fell down again. She clenched her buttocks, vainly trying to soften the blows that kept coming and coming. Juliette peppered her round ass with slaps, randomly hitting right, left and centre. Nina kicked her legs, trying to escape, but the other girl was holding her firmly.

The slaps got harder, they got faster. It hurt. It burned. *Smack! Smack! Smack! Smack! Smack! Smack! Smack! Smack!* Juliette’s hand was relentless.

“That’s enough! That’s enough!” she cried, tears starting to roll down her cheeks.

“Do you want me to invite people in to watch?” Juliette said, sternly.

Nina moaned a litte, pitiful “No…” and finally resigned herself to the pain. As her tears flowed freely, she stopped kicking, stopped resisting, and found that… she enjoyed it. The tension leaved her shoulders with every slap. She blocked the world outside. There was only that bedroom, Juliette’s lap, her bottom exposed and sore. She could feel a ball of warmth in her stomach, and suddenly realised that she was very wet, in full view of Juliette. She didn’t even care. She moaned again, not in pain but in pleasure. She noticed that Juliette was taking more and more pauses to caress and massage her burning ass. She reached back to guide the other girl’s hand down between her legs.

Maybe that bet hadn’t been such a bad decision after all. Maybe she had just won.

My Naughty Babysitter

Kalidwen3 Comments

My parents go out about once a week —their night they call it— and even though I’m a teenager and definitely old enough to take care of myself, they want someone to keep an eye on me and my younger sister, Judy. So once a week, Lucille comes to our house.

Lucille is a pretty cool babysitter, truth be told. She’s 19, not much older than I am (16), and she’s pretty cute. She lets me play games, and isn’t too strict with bedtimes and stuff for Judy. She even ordered pizza for us all one night! To be honest, I kinda look forward to her coming every week. I think about her, her hips, her small waist… She’s got a nice rack to, and a cute butt. As the weather gets warmer, she tends to be wearing shorts, skirts, hotpants… Yeah, I think about her a lot.

So last week, I was playing some game in my room when I thought I heard Lucille call. That was after Judy’s bedtime so I took my headphones off and called back. She didn’t answer but I could still hear her talking. Now, my parents are quite strict about her not having people over, or even being on the phone with her boyfriend, in case something happens to us. My parents are quite strict in general. So I got to the living room door and I could hear her more clearly. She was moaning, I peeked through the ajar door and saw that she was holding her phone up and caressing herself in front of it, playing with her boobs, making cute little faces. She passed a hand between her legs and let out another little moan. “Subscribe for more!” she said.

I opened the door suddenly and she jumped, crying “Oh my god!” and trying to put her phone away.

“Jack!” she said, “Hum… Are you okay?”

“I guess…” I said.

“Hum… Did you…”

“See that?”

“Yeah…”

“I guess I did…”

“I… It was nothing, don’t worry…” She looked embarrassed.

“It didn’t look like nothing…” I said.

“I…”

“It looked like you were filming some OnlyFans vids in my parent’s living-room?”

“Are… aren’t you a little young to know what that is?” she said, half-defiantly.

“Hum, no, I’m 16… Believe me, I know…”

“Okay, well… Don’t…”

“Tell my parents?”

“Please?”

“I think they’d like to know…”

“No! Please! They’d never call me again!”

“And they’d probably tell your parents…”

“No! Just… Don’t tell them, okay? It was just a stupid video…”

“You know what they’d do to you if they knew you were doing that in their home?”

“What?…”

“You’d definitely get a spanking…”

“A what?”

“You know… A spanking? Over the knees…”

“I… I don’t…”

“Just saying…”

“What are you saying exactly, Jack?”

“I’m saying, Lucille, that if you don’t want me to tell, then you have to let me give you a spanking!”

“What? No!”

“Fair enough,” I shrugged, and took my phone out, “I’ll call them right now…”

“No! Wait!”

I held the phone up, my finger next to the ‘call’ icon. “Your choice…”

“Fine! Fine! Don’t tell them… My parents would kill me…”

With a grin, I pulled out a chair from the table and sat on it. She looked at me, paralysed. I could see a lot of things going through her head.

“Well?” I said “I can still call them if you prefer…”

“No!” she said, and came towards me. I indicated my lap and, blushing, she came down over it. She was wearing a pair of tight denim shorts over her round ass, and I could feel her chest pressing against my thigh. She was hot, and having her at my mercy made it even hotter. I’m sure she could feel what effect she was already having on me, but she said nothing. I patted her bottom a few time, getting a good feel of her round cheeks, then slapped her hard in the middle of her ass.

“Oww!” she cried, “Okay, are you done?”

“Are you kidding?” I said, “That was one slap!” To demonstrate, I gave her another, and another, and another. She tensed and I grabbed her waist a little more firmly. I kept slapping her bottom, feeling the rough fabric under my hand. She started kicking her legs a little, and protested wordlessly.

“Jack, please…” she said after a few dozen slaps. “You… You’ve had your fun!…”

“Oh I don’t think so… If you don’t want me to tell, then your shorts are coming down!”

“What? But… But…”

“I need to check that your ass is properly red” I said with a grin, and continued to spank her.

“No… Oww!”

“Yes…”

“No, please…” she begged.

“I’m not asking you, I’m telling you.”

“…”

I stopped slapping and grabbed the waistband of her shorts, pulling them up tight against her crotch. “Unbutton these and come back down” I said, trying to sound as authoritarian as I could. It probably worked, because she didn’t protest anymore and gingerly pulled her shorts down, revealing a little skimpy white thong. We both blushed.

“I’m keeping that on,” she said, I nodded.

Not that it hid any of her gorgeous ass, to be fair, and it was already starting to get quite red. I held her back down and started spanking her again, harder this time, watching her cheeks bounce as she moaned and cried out. I spanked her down her thighs as well, making her yelp with pain. The more I spanked her round ass, the redder it became, until she really started crying and begging me to stop.

When I finally let her go, her ass was engraved in my memory forever. She rubbed it thoroughly in front of me, probably not even thinking about it, and pulled her shorts back up with a sniffle. She didn’t look at me, her gaze fixed on the floor.

“Your parents will be home soon,” she said.

“I’ll be in my room,” I said with a smile.

She nodded.

“Do you want me to subscribe to your OnlyFans, then?” I said with a wide grin.

She flipped me the bird, “Don’t push it, Jack!”

My parents never guessed what happened. In fact, Lucille is going to come back tomorrow night. I’m looking forward to it!