“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 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!
As I was finishing this commision for a client, I was looking through a dictionary of the Monachi language, spoken by the Native American Mon people that live in the Southern Sierra Nevada (yes, that is quite random, but I love learning about other languages).
Tamika turned around and reached for a box of products she was to put in the display window of the department store. As she did so, her round hips slammed into one of the shelves, sending it crashing down with a thunderous bang. Reaching to try and save any of it, she banged her elbow into the second display shelf, sending it down as well. All the intricate, delicately arranged displays, hours of effort, lay ruined on the floor. The other employees shook their heads and facepalmed. This wasn’t the first time she’d had an ‘accident’. The manager, Mr Jones, walked up to the bashful Tamika, who stood frozen in the middle of the mess she’d created.
“Enough is enough!” said Mr. Jones, his tone sharp and angry “Tamika, follow me to me office.”
“Oh, but Sir…”
“No ‘buts’, young lady, I’ve had quite enough of your excuses!”
The young girl looked down and twisted her fingers, looking for something to say, something to save her from what she knew was to come. The other employees had warned her: Mr Jones, as nice and fair a boss as he was, was pretty old-school when it came to discipline. They had told her he routinely spanked employees if they messed up. Surely, she had thought, they had been messing with her. Surely, it was just a prank to scare the newbie… Surely…
Hesitantly, she followed Mr Jones to his office, and closed the door that displayed a gold-lettered ‘Manager’ sign behind her. She was blushing, feeling scared and ashamed. Mr Jones had been very kind to her, patient despite her repeated mistakes. Now he seemed really cross. Even then, she couldn’t deny a certain attraction towards him. She’d always like authority; she liked to know her place in the world and being told what to do eased her anxiety. Still, her clumsiness had, once again, landed her in trouble.
Mr Jones pulled an object out of the top drawer of his desk and set it down on said desk with a wooden, heavy thud.
“Do you know what this is, Tamika?”
Her eyes widened.
“Hum… A… A paddle, Sir.”
“A paddle, exactly. Were you ever spanked before?”
“Sp-spanked, Sir? I… Hum… No, no, never…”
“Well, I’m sure I don’t need to draw you a picture…”
“But Sir, you’re not… I mean, you can’t—”
“Can’t I? As I see it, this is very simple, Tamika. Either you take responsibility for your actions and accept your punishment, or you can go find another job.”
“No Sir, please! I love this job! But please…. That… That would be so humiliating…”
He nodded. “Yes. And hopefully that’ll stick with you.”
“I…”
“I’m not going to say it again. The spanking or the door, your decision.”
She hesitated, thinking about her job, her colleagues, her future, weighing her mistakes against the utter humiliation of being spanked like a little misbehaving brat. Then again, she had been careless —again— and she was ashamed of herself. She looked up at him, his groomed beard and neat, pulled back dreadlocks a picture of fatherly authority. She felt… something in her stomach, a mix of fear and desire. She bit her lip and looked down.
“I don’t want to lose my job…” she finally said.
Mr Jones nodded. “Very well then, I think you’re making the right decision.” He pointed at her, “Take your shirt and skirt off,” he said.
“But Sir… Mr Jones, please…”
“No arguing, Tamika! You’re not the first I’ve had to bring here for a ‘talk’”
“Yes, Sir…” she mumbled softly, and slowly unbuttoned her shirt. Her skirt was next, and she stood in front of him in her unflattering underwear, her cheeks already burning with humiliation. She felt tears welling in her eyes when she looked at the paddle again. Her hands behind her back, she tugged at the band of her panties, pulling them up in the vain hope of covering her large, round buttocks a little more. The fabric tensed between her legs and she felt a shiver of pleasure running up her spine.
Sitting in his office chair, he beckoned her over, and she came, submissively, to lay across his lap. His hand held her at the waist, firm, warm. She closed her eyes and tears rolled down her cheeks. She deserved to be punished, she knew it. The first blow of the paddle came as she was about to say how sorry she was. Instead, she moaned loudly and kicked her legs. The paddle came down again, slapping across her round ass, setting it on fire. She gritted her teeth, trying to keep as quiet as she could. With each of the hard, heavy hits that followed, she felt the guilt leaving her, the pain washing it all way. The paddle fell again and again, and the more she hurt, the better she felt. Tears were rolling freely down her cheeks, and she sobbed with abandon, having never felt that relieved despite the shame, the humiliation, and the pain.
When her bottom felt like it couldn’t take any more of a beating, Mr Jones finally relented, and let her go. He directed her to the corner, where she stayed a long while, her hands over her head. Thoughts were racing through her head. She felt like the greatest weight had been lifted off her shoulders. She felt liberated. She knew now that there would be consequences for her mistakes. She didn’t have to internalise all the guilt anymore. She didn’t have to do it alone. She dared a glance back at Mr Jones, who was busy working at his desk. Her bottom was still burning hot. She loved it.
Alors même qu’il devrait être fâché, et que sa main s’abat violement sur l’arrière-train de sa Julie, il ne peut s’empêcher de sourire. Il est chanceux, il le sait. Son sourire, elle ne risque pas de le voir, allongée comme elle est en travers de ses genoux. Elle gigotte et remue, ses fesses déjà rouges. Un beau rouge, cramoisi. Ah, ses fesses… Les plus belles de Paris, il le lui a déjà dit, la plus belle paire de fesses d’Ile de France. Evidemment, elle lui a demandé s’il avait maté tous les culs de Paris pour être aussi catégorique. Elle est comme ça, Julie, elle trouve toujours la pire interprétation, même (surtout ?) pour les compliments. Elle est chou. Il l’aime.
Sa main tombe une fois de plus, faisant rebondir l’objet de toute son attention. Il n’y a pas à dire, sur les genoux c’est ce qu’il préfère… Ça fait une belle vue… Le galbe de ses cuisses, la rondeur de ses petites fesses, sa taille, son dos… Elle est nue, c’est le matin. Son pyjama n’est pas resté bien longtemps. Elle regrette peut-être d’avoir dormi sans culotte la nuit dernière. Peut-être pas. Lui, en tout cas, il ne regrette rien. Il se dit qu’il devrait dire quelque chose, des remontrances, mais ce cul l’obsède et l’hypnotise. Il ne va pas lui dire, elle trouvera le moyen de se vexer— « Quoi ? Tu m’aimes que pour mes fesses ? » — ou d’essayer d’échapper à sa punition— « Elles sont si belles… tu voudrais pas les abimer quand même ? » Elle est chou. Il l’aime.
Elle est brave, il ne peut pas le lui reprocher, même si elle gémit et marmonne des choses qu’il fait mine de ne pas entendre, elle prend toujours ses punitions jusqu’au bout, sans vraiment broncher. Elle fait des efforts, aussi. Elle déteste le décevoir. Et pour ça, il l’aime encore plus, même si elle n’y arrive pas toujours. Au moins, il sait que ce n’est jamais de la malice, juste un manque de discipline ou de motivation. De la motivation, il en a plein les mains. Et ses mains sont partageuses. Elle lâche un petit gémissement lorsqu’il va des ses fesses à ses cuisses. Elle se tend, serre les fesses dans le vain espoir que la prochaine fasse moins mal. Mais elle ne se plaint pas. Il la fesse encore. Elle est chou. Il l’aime.
Finalement satisfait, il pose sa main sur la croupe de sa Julie. Ses fesses sont brulantes. Il adore ça. Elle frissonne alors qu’il la masse gentiment. Il se penche et dépose des baisers sur son épaule, son dos. Il la caresse le long de la colonne vertébrale, s’attarde sur sa taille. Il glisse sa main le long de ses reins, de ses côtes, des ses seins. Elle cambre son dos, halète, gémit, tend le cou pour le regarder. Il lui caresse les cheveux. Sa main, vengeresse il y a encore un instant, se perd entre ses cuisses. Il ne voit pas comment elle va trouver à se plaindre quand il se sera occupé d’elle. Mais elle trouvera quelque chose. Elle est comme ça, Julie. Elle est chou.
[No cats were harmed in the making of this blog. They all love to be spanked.] Exploring the psychology 'behind' spanking through fiction and poetry. Because, nothing says 'I love you' better than a red, sore, bare bottom. Comments welcome and discussion encouraged. I believe spanking between consenting adults leads to closer and more intimate relationships. Spanking is not a kink, not a fetish, not a lifestyle, but rather, a healthy and honest means of communication. Let your mind free and respect will follow. Contact me lurvspanking@gmail.com