Tag: m/f
A Little Fantasy, part 2
A Little Fantasy, part 1
Laura’s exam
*SMACK!* the first slap fell and Laura cried out as her eyes watered instantly. *SMACK!* another, just as hard ; she clenched her teeth, moaning painfully as the next ten fell in a quick succession over her short skirt. Way too short, she thought as she lay across her teacher’s lap, the top of her stockings already peeking out from under the blue tartan fabric.
Laura had always been tall, and even now in college she was among the tallests in her class. That had gotten her some attention over the years but never had she regretted more than that morning as she was taking her final in a crowded room and thought herself safe from the eyes of her teachers.
She had thought she would get away with a little help sheet, just a few formulae to help her out. She had thought she wouldn’t be noticed. She had thought she would get away with it. She had thought wrong, of course.
As she was giving her work back, her teacher had taken Laura aside and informed her he would be failing her, and that she could try her luck again the next year. Her head bowed, blushing, tears in her eyes, she had begged quietly, tried to explain herself, promised she would do anything, but it was all to no avail.
Laura had decided to wait in the corridor until all the other students had gone, and had gone back inside to try her luck on last time. Her teacher and the other two that were helping him that day stared at her when she entered the room and walked to them. She couldn’t have been more ashamed —or so she thought at the time.
*SMACK!* the slaps continued to rain down on her barely covered bottom, pain and heat building up rapidly as her teacher scolded her for daring to cheat, having the nerve to ask for leniency, her skimpy outfit, everything. She cried more out of shame than out of pain, the thought of disappointing him even worse than simply failing her class.
He got her skirt up with a quick pull and instantly resumed her punishment, her little light-pink thong offering no protection at all. The two other teachers still hadn’t left the room, and were going to great lengths to go in every row and check that no student had forgotten a pen or an article of clothing, or anything really. She could feel their gaze on her long legs, her red, burning bottom. And still the spanking went on, harsh and unforgiving.
Her thong went down and so did the tears on her face, abundant now. She could feel the bulge in her teacher’s trousers as he continued berating her and slamming his palm on her already crimson behind. She couldn’t even understand what he was saying anymore, the pain overwhelming all her other senses. She moaned, loudly, she cried, she begged. Spank after hard spank rained down on her slender cheeks in a continuous shower, leaving not a single spot unblemished. It seemed to her it went on forever until, at last, he stopped.
He got her up from over his knees and pointed to the desk.
“I’ll give you one hour to retake the exam,” he said, and she nodded, sniffling and trying to wipe the tears off her cheeks. She didn’t dare rubbing her bottom for fear he would take her over his lap again.
“However,” he continued, “you will take it standing at that desk, with your skirt up and your…” he shook his head, “…thong down.”
She blushed. “But sir…”
“I’m not done!” he cut her, and got up, taking his belt of with metallic click, “You will be getting sixty strokes of the belt, one for every minute I give you.”
Laura felt a shiver go up her spine and her hand flew to her bottom. “I…”
“Last chance, miss Spencer. You can walk away and fail your exam, it’s all the same to me.”
Head bowed, she walked over to the desk. He got a fresh paper out of his briefcase and put it down before her. She assumed the position: bent over the desk, a pen in her hand and her throbbing bottom up. She could barely see the paper through the tears.
Her teacher got behind her, his belt held in a loop in his hand. He raised his arm high.
“Your test begins… Now!”
W is for Wicked
I’m a little late on that one (it’s been a busy day and a busy week so far!) but here’s the next entry in that little Wicked Wednesday collaboration that I and Lurvspanking have going! This week’s theme was “Bubbles”… Go read the story there!
Belinda’s Party
I’m very please to welcome a guest writer today, the lovely Gesperax from over at dA, who has a particular thing for international spankings. Her main character, Belinda, a typical German girl, always finds herself in some kind of spanking-related trouble… ^^
The party was in full swing. There were people dancing in the ballroom, mingling between themselves throughout the halls, and committing debauchery in the upstairs bedrooms. This year university Halloween party had an animal theme, so the all guests were dressed in the costumes more or less looking as different animals. Of course, the most popular were exotic predators, but some of the students had chosen types more usual to Northern Hemisphere.
A not very tall curvy blonde in a very revealing wolf-costume walked around the hall. It was Belinda – a German exchange student. She looked around and took a glass of grog from the table. She looked around again and grinned, seeing Melissa – a small slim brown-haired girl in a bunny costume, which looked more like a playboy-girl costume. The German came near and whispered: “Are you a snack?” she giggled at her own joke.
“Very funny, Belinda!” Melissa replied “But would you like to tease someone else? I don’t like your sense of humour!”
“Or, really?” Belinda grinned, “Maybe have you no sense of humour?”
“I’m not sure, that you have one!” Hélène – a beautiful French girl in a vixen-costume said, suddenly appearing from behind. The German turned to her.
“What did you say?” she asked a bit angrily.
“I said, that your own sense of humour is really bad,” the French girl replied “So it’ll be better if you won’t repeat such jokes!”
Belinda grinned: “Oh yeah, and what will happen to me if I do?”
Hélène grinned: “Your plump butt will be as red, as this grog!”
For a few moments, Belinda looked rather confused and even frightened, then her face turned a bit red from the anger. “Watch your tongue, Foxy!” she stepped forward, getting closer to her opponent.
“What’s the matter, Wolfy?” Hélène giggled.
“How dare you call me fat?” the German whispered angrily.
“Maybe because that’s true?” the French looked at her innocently and stepped back.
Belinda groaned and spilled her grog right in her opponent’s face, but right when she tried it, somebody in a bear costume appeared right between them. A moment later he stopped, wiping his face, and then turned to Belinda, who recognized Vladislav – a tall, really looking like a bear, muscular exchange student from Russia, who was famous for his very short temper.
“What the hell is going on?!” he shouted “Do you think it’s funny?!”
“Emm…” Belinda mumbled.
“Oh, I’ll show you an emm!” he said and pulled girl by her ear to the chair nearby. He sat down and pulled the German over his knee. Belinda squirmed and struggled, trying to break out. “What do you think you are doing?!” she shouted.
“Well, just give you your reward!” he said and lifted her grey mini-skirt and pulled her panties to her knees. Her bottom was on display to everyone at the party who was watching.
Belinda gasped in fear and shame and tried to break out but Vladislav held her firmly. He raised his arm. Hélène stood behind him, grinning.
Suddenly there was a loud pop followed by a cry as the Russian palm came down hard on the German bottom. Everyone cheered and laughed at the punishment. Vladislav smiled and told the crowd that it would appear Belinda had never gotten a proper punishment before. The crowd laughed even harder as he brought his palm down repeatedly on Belinda’s bottom.
Belinda moaned and clenched her teeth, trying not to scream again, but after the few more spanks she started squirming over the Vladislav’s knee and wagging her bottom, trying to save it from his stinging palm. She moaned and screamed in pain, cursed and sweared, but quickly started begging and bawling. She felt like her bottom was on fire. She howled in pain like a real she-wolf, when the Russian bear finally thought that she had enough and threw her from his knee.
The poor girl landed right on her tender bottom, and that made her jump up screaming in pain and started the brat war dance for a few minutes. Finally relieving from the pain a bit she looked around. Everyone were looking at her, laughing. She cried in shame and ran away, clutching her sore bottom.
Wicked!
It’s time for another collaboration with Lurvspanking as part of the Wicked Wednesday writing prompts. This week’s theme was “Nightmare”… Beware, it’s a dark tale…
Julia’s boss
She was standing in front of his desk, twisting her hands behind her back, looking down, red in the face. She dared not speak. He took his glasses off and pinched the bridge of his nose.
“I needed these sent two days ago, Julia,” he said, grabbing a handful of papers and raising them up for her to see.
“Oh these…” she said in a tiny, trembling voice. She grabbed the edge of her tight skirt and nervously played with the fabric.
“Yes, these,” he snapped, slamming them back on the desk. “Now we might lose that contract! You told me everything was ready to go!” He looked up at the young mid-twenties girl in her short skirt and tight, smart jacket
“I…” she hesitated, then murmured, “I couldn’t… I couldn’t find them anymore and…”
“And you didn’t think to… ask?” He pinched the bridge of his nose again. “How long have you been working here, Julia?”
“A… A year, sir… I…”
“A year.” He paused, leaving her to guess his intentions, “And in these twelve months, how many times have I needed to correct your mistakes?”
“I… A few times, sir…” she said, head bowed, blushing even more.
“So, why do you keep doing the same mistakes over and over again?”
“I don’t know, sir,” she said, tears filling her eyes, “I’m trying… Please, don’t fire me…”
He raised an eyebrow and shook his head. “I’m not going to fire you,” he said calmly, “but I can’t let this pass with no consequence. Do you understand that?
Julia nodded pitifully, “Yes, sir, I understand…” Her hands were still behind her back, and with her head bowed she looked the picture of a scolded schoolgirl before a stern teacher.
He got up, putting the tip of his fingers on the desk, and declared: “I am going to spank you, right now, over my knees, Julia. And that is what will happen every time you make a mistake in this office.”
She gasped, covering her mouth, her eyes widening in surprise and fear.
“A… A sp… A spanking?” she stuttered, “But sir… You… You can’t…”
“I’m being absolutely serious, Julia,” he interrupted, “I won’t be so lenient anymore. I need things done properly in this office, and I need to be able to rely on you.”
“But sir…” she pleaded, “I… I’ll be more careful, I… I’ll do my best… Just… Please, you can’t spank me like some… Little… brat or something…” She felt like she had never blushed so hard in her life. The mere idea got her on the verge of tears, and she nervously bit her lip, looking at the pile of papers on the desk.
He gently, yet firmly took her arm and directed her towards his chair, without a word. In a daze, she didn’t find any to say either, and she followed, mesmerised. he sat down, keeping silent, and gestured for her to lie across his lap.
“Sir… Please…” she tried… But he would have none of it. He raised a finger and pointed at her.
“You will take the punishment you know you deserve, Julia, I’m sick and tired of your mistakes. I’ve been way too lenient with you and you know it.”
Tears rolled down her cheeks and it was all she could do not to completely break out in tears. She shyly, submissively nodded her head and went down and over his lap, her round bottom slightly raised for him to punish as he saw fit.
He patted it a few times and she screwed up her eyes, expecting the first slap any moment. She didn’t have to wait long.
*SMACK!*
The first blow came, and she cried out in pain. “Ooooooooooow!! Sir…”
“No, Julia,” he said calmly, “We are going all the way with this.” And as he said, so he did, his hand raising and falling in a slowly increasing rhythm, harder and harder, dishing out more and more pain to her poor behind. She couldn’t help but cry out with every slap, half cries, half moans that made her even more ashamed of her situation. Still the slaps came, long series over one cheek, then the other. Pain, burning pain was all that she could feel now. Tears were freely flowing.
When the skirt came up, revealing her lacy stockings and garter-belt, she didn’t even think to protest, nor did she say a word when her panties found themselves half-way down across her thighs. Completely subservient, she took her punishment as she had been told she should, without a word of protest.
That didn’t stop him pouring spank after hard spank over her buttocks, reddening them more and more as he went. As in all things, he was thorough, not leaving a single square centimetre of white flesh on her large bottom. She was sobbing, her legs kicking as the slaps came down over and over, and over again.
Finally, and for the first time since her punishment had started, he stopped. She winced and expected more slaps to come. Was he going to do something else to her? Was she about to get the paddle? Did he keep a cane hidden somewhere in his office? The thoughts raced in her head, each one worse than the other.
“I think that’ll be enough,” he said, much to her surprise, “and I hope I won’t need to do it again, Julia.”
The tears choked her and she could only nod forcefully. He got her up and pointed at one side of the table.
“Bend over the desk, your arms and hands flat upon it.”
She obeyed without protest and closed her eyes. She had never felt more humiliated in her entire life, exposing her thoroughly punished bottom clad in her lacy underwear for her boss to see and admire at his leisure. In her position, she was facing the office’s door, and she dreaded nothing more than seeing that door open and someone else see her shame.
He rolled his chair back to the table, by her side and arranged the paper in a neat pile.
“Now, Julia,” he said, “let’s review the papers one more time…”
The maid
He had a little smile on his lips as he pounded her firm, round bottom with hard slaps. The constant rhythm of the spanking, her bouncy cheeks before his eyes, her little murmured moans, the silky panties under her old-fashion working outfit… He loved it all. The little, slender maid had only been working in the house for a few months, and already she had been dragged over his lap half a dozen times.
The vase she had broken this time was of no importance, really, it had been tacky and would easily be replaced. Nonetheless, he couldn’t pass up the opportunity to have her wiggle under his punitive attentions again. he wondered if she had done it on purpose. Did she enjoy it as much as he did ?
As he kept spanking her, her bottom turning a pale pink, then a darker red, then a bright crimson as he kept pouring spank after hard spank over it, he wondered still, not daring to ask.
With a final hard slap, he told her to get up and go stand in the corner of the room, by the wide window. He sat on the bed, admiring her round apple bottom, the bright colour of it, the marks he had left on it. Still he wondered. He got up and came closer, hesitantly, picking up another vase form a nearby buffet.
“I would have to punish you even harder if anything happened to this one,” he said, handing it to her. She got her hands off the top of her head and took it delicately. The maid looked him in the eyes, tears drying on her cheeks, leaving black mascara marks.
She let the vase go.
Isabelle
Isabelle pushed the door a quietly as she could and tiptoed inside the apartment, holding her high-heeled shoes with two fingers. She softly pushed the door back to a close and paused to listen. Silence.
With a smile, the young woman put her little shoes down and went to the kitchen ; she was starving. There was a bottle of wine on the counter, and she couldn’t resist pouring herself one last glass. It had been a fun night, and even though he would be a little irritated in the morning that she hadn’t come back in time for bed, she had enjoyed herself. Dancing, flirting, chatting, it had all been nice after so much rigour and work over the past weeks. One night out couldn’t hurt, exams of no exams. Plus she had a few more days.
The bottle slipped a little and she dripped wine on the counter. She did have quite a lot to drink, she thought, and giggled to herself. She raised the glass.
“To dancing and having fun and not caring at all,” she said with a smile.
The lights suddenly came on, white and harsh after the comforting darkness. She gasped and the glass fell to the floor, where it shattered, spilling the expensive wine on the dark-tiled floor. She looked at it with a pout, then up at the man who’d turned the light on and was glaring at her.
“Do you know what time it is?” he said coolly.
“Hum… Past bedtime?” she tried with a little grin. He didn’t look amused at all, his arms crossed over his chest.
“It’s 3 am, Isabelle. Where the heck were you?” he asked, his tone still ice-cold. He knew perfectly well where she had been. It wasn’t the first argument they’d had about her partying.
“I was having fun, okay?” she said with a shrug, “I’ve been working hard, you know that…”
She was still pouting.
“You made a promise, remember?” he said, coming closer. She hadn’t made a move to clean up the mess the wine had made ; she stood there with her back against the counter, looking at him through the thick mascara of her heavily shadowed eyes. The purple around them complemented her teal short dress beautifully indeed.
She looked down and bit her lip, “Yes, I remember…”
“What was it?”
She hesitated… “Listen…” she started, passing a hand in her long, chestnut hair.
“What was it, Isabelle?” he interrupted straight away.
“No partying… until my exams…” she said coyly.
He nodded, “So… Where were you tonight?”
“It was just one night, okay? Just one… Please…”
“You promised. You know you have to get up early tomorrow, there’s still a lot of things we need to go over. Don’t you care?”
“No I do…”
“Don’t you appreciate me helping?”
“You know that I do… I couldn’t—
“Exactly. You know you need to give it your best and yet… you’ve still been out. You can’t help yourself, can you?”
“You sound like my fucking dad, just stop it” she muttered.
“Language, Isabelle,” he warned, pointing a finger at her. She rolled her eyes.
“Are you done?” she asked, rapping her fingers on the counter and letting out an exasperated sigh.
He was on her in a heartbeat, grabbing her by her wrist and holding her. He was a good head taller than she was, and stronger for it. She tried to get her hand free but couldn’t.
“No, I’m not done,” he said harshly, “I’m quite fed up with your attitude, in fact” he continued, forcing her to turn around and face the kitchen counter. “Fed up with the partying, the lack of organisation, your messiness, brattiness…”
“Let me go!” she said. He forced her down on the counter. “What are you doing?!” she cried, louder.
“What I should have done a long time ago,” he answered, and slammed his hand down on her round bottom, barely hidden under her dress. The sound echoed loudly in the kitchen. Frozen by surprise, disbelief, and anger, she didn’t make a sound.
He slapped her again, harder, right on the same spot. She cried out this time, and tried to get away.
“Are you mad?” she yelled as he kept spanking her bottom one cheek after the other, hard, heavy smacks that made it bounce under the tight fabric. He didn’t answer, pinning her arm behind her back, forcing her to stay down on the counter while he peppered her cheeks with hard slaps.
The dry, loud sound drowned out her little yelps and gasps. It would wake the entire building up, she feared. And they kept coming, these slaps. Her bottom was already burning. She felt tears coming to her eyes, tears of pain, of shame, of humiliation. She was being treated like a child, a misbehaving brat. It hurt, it hurt, it hurt so bad and he kept going.
“Okay, okay,” she said, her voice cracking a little, “you’ve made your point!”
“Have I really?” he said finally, landing a couple more hard smacks, “I think I’m just getting started…”
“What? No…” The tears were filling up her eyes now. He grabbed the bottom of her dress and raised it up to her hips, revealing her burning, bright pink behind framed in a plain, white thong. She bit her lips, not wanting to make things worse. He let go of her arm.
“Stay there,” he said sternly. She did.
He reached over the counter for a wooden spoon in a pot among other kitchen utensils. She shivered, it looked mean and she did not want to have it strike her exposed bottom. Not that she had any say in the matter. He put it against her warm cheeks and tapped them softly a few time. Tears rolled down her face. Then he raised the wooden spoon high and it came down with a sharp whistling sound. Pain exploded in her punished bottom and she cried out, “Oooooooow!”
He quickly whipped her cheeks a few times, eliciting a cry of pain each time, then switched cheek for a few more, and kept hitting her bottom harder and harder, leaving dark red marks over the pink.
She was crying more and more, wiggling her bottom, trying to cover it with her hands only to be chased away and rewarded with even harder smacks for trying.
Her thong came off despite her protestations, and soon, so did the dress. She was naked, crying like a little brat that she knew she was, and he kept spanking her.
She was begging, pleading, asking, promising to be good, to behave, to work hard. She promised everything he wanted as long as he just stopped spanking her. He didn’t. She was completely exposed to him, every inch of her body. Where her bottom had been pink, it was now a deep red. He threw the spoon down on the counter and came back at her punished cheeks with his large, square-palmed hands.
“No.” *smack!* “More.” *smack!* “Partying” *smack!* he said, the slaps a hard punctuation to each word.
“Noooo… no, I promise… Please, please, pleaaaaase…” she begged. “I’ll be good. I’ll be good, I’m so sorry.”
“Will you work hard?” he asked, spanking her still.
“Yes, yes, yesss, I will, I promise, I will!”
“What will happen if you don’t?”
“I’ll get punished!” she said, bawling, “You’ll spank me again.”
“Exactly, and it will be even harsher.” She doubted it ever could be worse than the burning she was feeling in her cheeks. She wouldn’t be able to sit down for a week.
He stopped.
“Stay here, hands on the counter,” he said ominously and left. She got up, her legs trembling, and put her hand down on it as instructed. The tears kept streaming out of her eyes and she sobbed as silently as she could. She could feel the warmth between her legs, not just her bottom, and she felt ashamed. She dared not look or feel it, but she knew she was drenched. He came back, and she felt his fingers between her thighs. Had he read her mind? Was it so obvious that… She didn’t want to think about it.
“Well, Isabelle,” he said calmly, “I think you need a little time to think about your behaviour” His fingers went up from her vulva and caressed her anus.
“Wha… what are you doing…” she gasped… He had never touched her there before. She felt something cold on her. Was it… Suddenly, something massive went up her ass, and she moaned loudly, “Oh God…!”
“Punished and plugged, like the misbehaving young girl that you are,” he announced with a grin and she realised he had been planning that moment, knowing that sooner or later she would slip up and he would have an opportunity to punish her as he desired. She felt her swollen pussy drip over her thighs. She wanted to beg him to take her right there, right then. She knew he would have her wait. She felt the plug filling her, making her moan with the slightest move of her hips. The pain and pleasure merged into one and she bit her lip again.
She would be good… tomorrow.
