Teenage taming
Tag: spanking
Jenny’s first time
Jenny and I had been friend since the first day we’d met at the start of high school. Maybe it was that we both came from far away and knew nobody there, or maybe it had been pure luck that had put us in first period together. Whatever the reason, we had immediately clicked. She was funny, a little nerdy at times, and she put up with my awkward sense of humour. Although we grew close as can be, the idea of dating had never even crossed our minds. In fact, the thought had always seemed preposterous. She was more like a sister to me, and you wouldn’t date your sister —no matter was a certain subgenre of naughty films would have you believe.
We had gotten through high school together and, as luck would have it, found ourselves going for the same college a few towns over. Naturally, we moved-in together. After a few months of this new life, Jenny found herself a boyfriend, and in the following weeks she was around less and less. We were still friends, mind, and we had fun talking, playing videogames, and cooking together whenever she was home, but it was not really the same. Nevertheless, I was happy for her. Life goes on.
One night, I heard the door quite late in the evening, and somebody trying to muffle sobs. I popped my head out of my door only to find Jenny sat on the floor in the hallway, her hand on her forehead, crying heavy tears. I sat beside her wordlessly and held her. She turned around and buried her head in my chest to cry some more. After a while, her sobs quieted down, and I felt I needed to ask, “What’s going on, Jen?”
“It’s Lucas,” she said.
“What about him?” I asked. Lucas was her boyfriend, of course. Not a bad dude at all, in fact. We’d spent a few evenings together with no issue, and I’d heard plenty about him from Jenny, but never anything bad.
“He left me!” Her voice cracked and she started sobbing again.
“Well, he’s an idiot then… What happened? Did he hurt you?”
“No…” she said, quietly.
“What happened, Jen?”
“I…”
“You’re worrying me now…”
“No, no, nothing bad happened, I promise” she said, shaking her head and sniffling.
“Okay…”
“It’s… kind of the problem…”
I was even more confused than before.
“What do you—” she interrupted me before I could finish the first of many questions that were tumbling in my head.
“I’ll tell you, but you have to promise to just listen, okay? Say nothing, just listen. All right?”
“I mean, uh…”
“Promise me?”
“Fine, no problem, I’ll just listen.”
“Okay so… Lucas and I were… You’ll let me finish, okay?”
I just nodded.
“So, Lucas…” she continued, “We were, like, talking and… We got to talking about our fetishes and stuff…” She blushed visibly. “And it turns out he’s… Pretty vanilla, you know?”
“Okay?” I said, hesitantly.
“No talking!” she said, gently slapping my forearm. I passed two fingers across my lips, zipping it shut.
She carried on, “So I told him what I’m into and… Well, he didn’t take it well at all.” Tears were welling up in her eyes again.
“He called me a deviant and… and a freak and… he said he didn’t want anything to do with me if… if I was that kind of s-s-slut” Tears were freely running down her cheeks again.
“What an asshole,” I muttered beneath my breath.
For a few minutes, we were both quiet as she calmed herself down again.
“So…” I started… “Is your fetish, like, that bad?” I blushed.
“Seems so…”
“I always knew you were into midget granny scat porn, you know?”
She let out a little laugh and punched my arm.
“Shut up, everyone isn’t like you…”
“Nah, I’m one of a kind…”
“Yeah…”
She fell silent again. I was out of awkward jokes, so I asked the obvious question.
“Do you want to tell me?”
“You’ll think I’m a freak as well…”
“I’m not about to kink-shame you, Jen… Whatever you fantasise about in that weird head of yours is your business. It’s just… I don’t know, maybe I can make you feel better about it?”
She stayed quiet for a minute. Then she murmured, “I like spankings.”
“Hmm?”
“Spanking. I’m, like, into that,” she said, audibly this time.
“Okay and?”
“What do you mean and?”
“Well pretty much everybody is into a little bit of rough play, aren’t they? What’s the other thing?”
“No, no, that’s it…”
“What, really?”
“Yeah…”
“What a fucking idiot.”
“See, I knew you were going to hate me as well…” her voice broke again.
“No not you! Not you! That big fat idiot Lucas! What is wrong with that guy?”
“Oh!” She wiped her tears with the back of her hand.
“I was expecting something, like, extreme…” I said
She shrugged. “That was too extreme for him apparently.”
“He really left you over that?”
“Yup.”
“You didn’t fart in front of him? Clog his toilet?”
“Nope.”
“Did he… give it a go?”
“What?”
“Well, spanking?”
“Did it sound like he was willing to give it a go?”
“Hum… I suppose not.”
“Well there you go…”
“I see…” I thought for a moment, then asked, “And so have you ever…”
“What?”
“Like… Done it?”
“You know Lucas was my first boyfriend…”
“Hey, maybe you have guy after guy come here to punish you like a naughty, naughty girl when I’m not around, I don’t know!”
She shook her head in disbelief and pushed me away jokingly. “You’re such an idiot.”
“Yeah, but I make you smile so…”
“That’s true.”
“So… You wanna be like, a dominatrix? Leather and all?”
She rolled her eyes.
“I don’t know what kind of porn you’re into but no. I… Hum… Would like to be… On the receiving end.”
“I see… So…” I asked again, “never been spanked?”
“Nope.
“Your parents?”
“No.”
“Good, your mum is terrifying enough as it is.”
“Shut up!” She sighed. “You promise it’s not that bad?”
“It’s like, kinda normal, I think?” I said, honestly.
“I don’t know”
“Plus you’ve never tried”
“So?”
“So maybe you won’t like it, maybe it’s just a fantasy, really.”
“Maybe…”
“Plus, you’re a wuss so…”
She shrugged. I wasn’t nearly as funny as I thought I was.
“It was a joke,” I said, miserably.
“I…” she started, and blushed crimson. “I’ve done it to myself before, a little.”
“What? Like, spanked yourself?”
“Yeah… To… to see what it’s like”
“Oh…”
“…”
“And?” I asked.
“I don’t know, it wasn’t bad but it’s not the same, like.” She was still blushing, her eyes fixed on the floor.
“Well… Thank you,” I said with a smile.
“What for?” she asked.
“For trusting me with this.”
“He made me feel so bad about it, I… I’m glad you don’t think the same way.”
“He’s an idiot. And he doesn’t know what he’s missing.”
“Oh?”
“I mean, like, you’re awesome, anybody would be lucky to have you. He’s just a dumb idiot.”
“Thanks, but that feels a little hollow right now…”
“Plus, I’m sure your butt is great to spank.”
She looked up, shocked.
“What?”
“Your butt. It could definitely do with a spanking. And you left dirty dishes in the sink so…”
She blushed again and buried her face in her hands. “Stop!”
“Well, you never tried it and… I don’t know, maybe it would make you feel better? And those dishes, damn! There’s a type-2 civilisation in there!”
She laughed. “Are you… Are you serious, though? You want to…”
“I can’t promise you I’ll be good at it, but I you wanna try…”
She shot me a weird glance and looked away. She went quiet. A minute went by, then two. It’s then that what I’d just suggested actually dawned on me. I couldn’t believe myself. The words had just come out. Maybe I thought I was being funny again. What an idiot. She was going to hate me. She was going to think I was taking advantage of her. She was going to ask me to leave. She was—
“I’d like you to.” she said
“W-what?” I said, a look of utter surprise on my face.
“If-if you were serious?” she said, hesitantly, looking away.
“Of course! But…”
“…”
“Will you tell me how?”
“Your hand. My butt.” She laughed.
I blushed and nervously laughed in turn. She got up and took my hand, helping me up. Nervous, she led me to the sofa and told me to sit down.
“So,” she said, “we’re going to do it, like, oh-tee-kay”
“I’m sorry, what?”
“Over the knees.”
“Oh! Okay, soz, I don’t know the lingo.”
“Pfft, amateur,” she winked. Her mood seemed to have transformed in a flash and she was smiling widely. “I’m going to lie over your lap, okay? And then… Well it’s kinda obvious.”
“Shouldn’t we have, like, a safeword?”
“Aaah! So you know what you’re doing, huh? Such a naughty boy…”
“Hey! You said that wasn’t your thing!”
She laughed, “Cactus!”
“Beg your pardon?”
“Cactus, it’ll be the safeword.”
“Got it. Anything else?”
“Well…” she said, and undid her jeans without another word. My jaw fell to the floor just as her jeans did. She turned to face me, her hand crossed in front of her panties. “I… I think bare-bottom would be a bit much…” She bit her bottom lip oh-so-sensually. I would be lying if I said I wasn’t feeling very mixed emotions. Not so sisterly after all, it turned out.
She came over and put herself over my knees. She was warm, soft, a little heavier than I would have thought. With her looking away, I finally let myself look at her bottom. I forgot to breathe for a moment. I’d never noticed how shapely, how round her ass was. Two pearly white globes in need of attention. She repositioned herself slightly and her cheeks bounced a little. They were perfect. And, for a time, they were entirely mine.
“Are you done gazing?” she said with a smile, and I died a little inside.
“Just making sure my calibrations are correct, miss.”
She rolled her eyes and smiled.
“You know, even now that you’re like, tall and sorta good-looking…”
“Sorta?”
“… you’re still a massive dork.”
“A massive dork who’s about to spank your bottom, missy, so pipe down!”
She bit her lip. “Yes, Sir…” she said.
“Finally, a bit of respect!” I said and let my hand fall on her bottom for the first time. A glorious *SLAP* seemed to echo around the room as my hand met her firm flesh, and she let out a little “Oh!” of surprise.
“I’m sorry, was that too hard?”
“No, no, carry on!”
I gave her another one, *SLAP!* The sound was sharp. It was loud, much louder that I had thought it would be. Her bottom was still fresh to the touch. It bounced hypnotically, and before I even realised it, my hand was coming down again, and again, leaving faint red marks were my finger struck.
“Mmmh…” she said quietly.
“You okay?” I asked.
“Can you try… harder?” she said, covering her smile.
“You mean can you try harder Sir?” I said, giving her a harder slap.
“Mmmmh, yes, Sir… Sorry Sir…”
“Like… That?” I tried, putting a little more force into it. Her left cheek was turning pink. I gave her right one another couple slaps for good measure.
“Exactly like that… Sir…” she said, happily.
I carried on, feeling my jeans getting tighter as I peppered her perfect bottom with hard slaps. From white, to pink, to red. She started squirming as spank after hard spanked rained down on her. I could hear her trying to hold her moans. She was failing.
After another dozen hard slaps, I paused and my hand instinctively went to rub her crimson bottom. Slowly, in circles, I soothed her burning pain.
“Mmmh…” she sighed happily, “Are you sure you’ve never done this before?”
“Yes, I’m sure, but…”
“Yes?”
“If you want, I’ll do it again…”
Sophie’s Choice
Exchange student
Johanna finished cleaning the dishes and put them away on the drying rack. She glanced around the kitchen, making sure everything was in order. The twenty-year old exchange student was very grateful to the family that housed her, and she always tried her best to repay their kindness with chores around the house. The French family, the Dumonts, were a little old-fashioned, but that appealed to her desire for rules and neatness. Maybe there was something to the German stereotypes after all.
She undid the apron she was wearing —it had been a present from Madame Dumont— and hung it up behind the kitchen’s door. She liked that kitchen; it was big, bright, and full of delicious food. Madame Dumont was a fine cook, and Johanna loved spending time with her, learning French recipes and showing her some German specialities as well. What could she say, she loved food and she loved cooking it. It was no surprise then that she was quite the plump girl, with ample hips, a round bottom and heavy breasts, but she liked it that way. Humming a popular pop song, she went to the living room.
Madame Dumont came down the stairs at the same time. She was a middle-aged woman, a few years younger than her sterner husband, and wore her years very well. Blond, with shoulder-length hair, she was a petite woman whom Johanna had nearly always seen dressed in tailored suits with jewellery to match. Even when cooking she managed to keep her white shirts immaculate. ‘With your whole arm, side to side!’ she said as she whisked away, not a single drip escaping the bowl. That always made Johanna smile, for some reason.
Today however, Madame Dumont was wearing jeans and a blouse that made her look ten years younger and accentuated her thin waist. Johanna gasped and smiled as she saw her.
“Oh, Madame!” she said, surprised.
“Oui, Johanna?” the woman asked with a warm smile.
“You look…” The young German student hesitated a moment. Sometimes, words still didn’t come that easily to her, even after months of living abroad. “You look really… salopp today!” She smiled broadly for a second, then noticed the look of utter shock on Madame Dumont’s face. Shock turned into anger, and the woman stormed off, muttering angrily in French and slamming the door behind her.
Johanna stood in the middle of the living room, shocked. Had she said something wrong? That jean-and-t-shirt look was pretty casual, wasn’t it? She didn’t think that Madame Dumont would take it so badly… Puzzled, she wondered whether she should go after her to apologise, or at least try to understand why she seemed so angry. She heard a car start, then leave. She shrugged. She would bring it up in the evening; it was just a misunderstanding, she was sure.
A couple hours later, as she sat on the sofa reading a book, she heard a car park in front of the house. She put her book down, expecting Madame back, but it was her husband, Monsieur Dumont, who came through the door, a frown on his face.
‘Johanna!’ he said as soon as he saw her. ‘We need to talk.’
Shocked by the dryness of his tone, she stuttered ‘O-oui, Monsieur? Is there something wrong?’
‘Are you mocking me, mademoiselle?’ he asked, crossing his arms. She was thoroughly confused.
‘N-no? No, Monsieur, I would never…’
‘How dare you, Johanna? How dare you?’ He seemed really angry now. He was an older gentleman, all beard and moustache on a thin, wiry frame. He had a college professor look about him, Johanna had often thought to herself. Nevertheless, he was quite scary when he got angry, as she was discovering.
“W-wie bitte? Pardon?”
“Have we not taken good care of you? Have we not made you welcome in our home?”
“J-ja, oui, of course!” she was stammering and going from one language to the other without thinking, so troubled was she.
“And you think that the way to repay that is to call my wife a slut?”
She blanked. What was he talking about?
“But Monsieur, I never…”
“Are you calling her a liar?” he roared. She shook her head, eyes wide open. She dared not say another word. He continued, “Well that will not do, Johanna. I won’t have my wife disrespected in my own house.”
He pointed at her. “Don’t move,” he said.
He went upstairs and she stood there, trying to process what had just happened. She didn’t even think about disobeying the stern Frenchman. A minute later, he came back downstairs, holding a ping-pong paddle. This was getting more confusing by the minute.
“I won’t tolerate that kind of language in my house, mademoiselle. I think you need some good old-fashioned discipline. And Hélène will be expecting an apology.”
“Di-discipline, Monsieur?” she asked, eyeing the paddle uncomfortably.
“It’s been a while since the children have left the house, but I think I still know how to give a proper spanking, Fräulein.”
“But… but…”
“Unless you’d rather go back to Germany on the first flight tomorrow?”
“W-wa? Nein! No, no, I like it here!”
He sat on a chair he’d pulled away from the table.
“Then over my knees, mademoiselle. Tout de suite !”
Stunned, she obeyed without even thinking about it. She walked to him, blushing, eyes watering. She bent over and he put her down in position, her round, plump bottom up, offered to his punishment. The skirt that she was wearing didn’t cover much, and she had a feeling it wouldn’t stay on for long. Just as the thought crossed her mind, the first slap came down over it. Just a hand-slap, it hurt as much as it surprised her, and she let out a little cry. The hand fell again, making her round bottom bounce. Slaps came and came again, quickly settling into a rhythm, left-right, left-right. She was squirming, biting her lip not to cry. He paused only to readjust her over his lap. With each slap, her large breasts bounced against his thigh. In spite of herself, she felt a warm sensation spreading through her belly, and lower.
When he grabbed her skirt, she tried to stop him, darting her hand to protect her dignity and sore cheeks.
“Nein! Bitte!”
He ignored her and folded the skirt up on her back. The next slap was sharper than ever, and she cried out, her hand reaching back to put the skirt down again. He immediately took it back up and rewarded her with a series of ten slaps in close succession, harder and harder. She howled in pain.
“Very well, off it goes, then!” he said, sternly. He got her up. There was no arguing with the glare he offered her. She undid her belt and the skirt hit the floor. She was left in her skimpy panties. Tears down her face, still unsure of what she’d done wrong.
“But monsieur…” she tried, “What have I—” before she could finish, he caught her wrist and forced her back down over his knees. After a few more dozen slaps, he pulled her panties down to her thighs. She didn’t even think about protesting that time. She had never felt so exposed, so humiliated. He grabbed the paddle from the table and didn’t waste a second in putting it to good use. The sting was immediate, and she cried out once more. He scolded her again, punctuating each word with a hard slap of the paddle.
“You *SMACK* called *SMACK* my *SMACK* wife *SMACK* a *SMACK* slut!” *SMACK* *SMACK* *SMACK*
“Nein! Nein! I didn’t!”
“Salope! *SMACK* That’s what you said!” *SMACK* *SMACK* *SMACK*
“But that’s not… Owww! Bitte! Nein! That’s not what it means! Owww! Owww!
“You think you know French better than we do?” *SMACK* *SMACK* *SMACK*
“Nein! Nein! Owww! Casual! That’s what it means! Owww! Salopp means casual in German! I’m sorry! I didn’t know!”
Finally, her ordeal stopped. Her bottom was on fire, her blushing crimson cheeks were covered in tears and she couldn’t look Monsieur Dumont in the face. For his part, having finally understood what had happened, he seemed just as embarrassed.
Sniffling, Johanna pulled her panties back up, apologising. Monsieur Dumont called his wife, and once they were all together— and Johanna wearing her skirt again— they had a long conversation about words, false friends and misunderstandings. All apologised profusely. Johanna stood up the whole time.
When she finally went back to her room that evening, she winced as she sat down on her bed. Her bottom was still sore and warm. She still couldn’t believe what had happened to her. She felt like she should tell someone. But to whom could she tell such a story? Blushing, she remembered Monsieur Dumont’s hand grabbing her panties and severely pulling them down, exposing her intimacy. She remembered his hand slapping her bottom, lecturing her, holding her down… She shivered in a mixture of embarrassment and delight. She… She wondered if… Maybe if she slacked at uni?… Maybe she would need to be put on the straight and narrow… Or maybe Madame could… Her hand found its way into her panties, and Johanna went to sleep a very sore, but very happy girl that night.
BDSM 101
It should be offered in any University or College, surely?
Anticipation
3:35pm
Aaliyah had been waiting all day for him to come back. The waiting only made it worse. He knew it. He knew it very well, and she knew it was part of her punishment. Every time her phone pinged with one of his messages was a reminder of what was coming. Since the morning, he had drip-fed her instructions. She knew better than to argue or try to ignore him. He would be back at five, after work. She would be standing at the door, hands behind her back. Her head would be bowed; she wouldn’t look up; she wasn’t to say a word. She would be naked.
3:52pm
She had felt pitifully relieved that he hadn’t had her wait at the window, like that one time. She didn’t know that a neighbour had stolen a passing glance, but the possibility was enough for her to cover her face in shame every time she thought about it. The punishment that day had kept her straight for a month. Her phone pinged. She was to gather a paddle, a hairbrush, a belt, a wooden spoon, and the riding-crop. He would pick one, or two, or none, but it was best to be prepared. She didn’t like the sound of any of them.
4:10pm
But of course, she had slipped. And she knew she deserved what was coming. She had been mad at herself, and she had made it worse by being mad at him for no reason. He was a very supportive boyfriend, but he had no tolerance for her misdirected anger. She liked that about him; he made her better, more measured. Her phone pinged. He would be home in fifty minutes. She looked at the time. He would be home at five, like he had said. He hadn’t needed to tell her again but, just as he wanted, she felt a pang of fear. And guilt. And anticipation.
4:38pm
The flat was spotless —there was no reason to make it harder for herself. She sat on the sofa, twiddling her thumbs, unable to concentrate on anything. It had been on her mind all day. They had had the argument the night before. He never punished her in anger, that was not really him. He had let her know that they would deal with it the next day. He had kissed her in the morning and told her to be ready for her punishment later today. Then, he had simply left, without scolding or berating her. That would come, in a calm and measured tone, to the sound of his hand battering her poor bottom. She shivered. Fear? Desire? The phone pinged again. She was to get the big piece of ginger from the fridge and get it ready. She moaned as she read the message, passing a hand between her thighs.
4:57pm
She folded her clothes up on the bed, biting her lip, and straightened the covers. All the implements were neatly laid out, as was the ginger. She caught a look of herself in the mirror and blushed. She tip-toed to the door and looked up at the big clock hanging off the wall. Were her hands supposed to be over her head? No, behind her back. I think? He wouldn’t be too pleased if she got it wrong, but she couldn’t go and check her phone, for fear he would come in at that exact moment.
5:00pm
She looked down. The door clicked open, then shut. He put something down. His bag, probably. She dared not look up. He lifted her head with a finger under her chin and kissed her softly.
“Let’s take care of you,” he said.
Un plan parfait
(English below)
Fleur le regarde. Il la regarde. Il est fâché. Okay, pas de panique, elle a tout prévu. Elle passe sa main langoureusement dans ses cheveux et se mordille la lèvre. Ça marche à tous les coups. Les hommes, franchement… Ils ne sont pas compliqués. Elle applique le regard amoureux n°3, tant qu’à faire. Un, deux trois, et… Il a toujours l’air fâché. Ah mer…
Il dit quelque chose. Elle n’écoute pas vraiment, elle réfléchit. Elle aime sa voix. Quand il est faché, il peut être vraiment autoritaire. Elle aime ça. Parfois, c’est la grosse voix, parfois, juste le ton glacial ; elle aime le répertoire. Elle commence à bien le connaitre, d’ailleurs.. Vite, vite une idée…
Nouveau plan. Elle allonge lentement ses longues jambes sur le canapé et s’étire. C’est le matin : t-shirt, culotte, rien d’autre ; tactique impeccable. Bonus : dentelle. Bim ! Sauf qu’il a les bras croisés, maintenant. Double mer…
Il faut autre chose. Quelque chose d’irrésistible. Une idée, une idée… Il dit autre chose. C’est surement important. Tiens, c’est ton glacial aujourd’hui. La facture de quoi ? Aucune importance. Diversion, diversion !
Petite moue, air innocent, main délicatement posée le long du cou. Petit soupir. Ah ! Trop facile. Les câlins, et les bisous, ce sera juste la cerise sur le gâteau. Il prend sa main. Elle ferme les yeux et tend ses lèvres. Il embrasse bien, ferme, passionné. Sauf que là, au lieu de l’embrassade pleine d’amour, de passion et de papillons, il la fait se lever, il s’assoit et la rabat sur ses genoux.
T-shirt, culotte, rien d’autre, le regret est instantané. Dentelle ou pas dentelle, les claques tombent, sèches, douloureuses. Elle gémit, elle remue et se tortille. Rien à faire, il continue. Il parle encore. C’est la grosse voix. Ses fesses sont en feu. Ses cuisses sont trempées. Elle s’abandonne, ferme les yeux et pense à ce qu’ils feront quand il sera satisfait de sa punition. Elle plein d’idées, un plan. Il y a des batailles qui valent le coup d’être perdues.
Fleur looks at him. He looks at her. He is mad. Okay, no panic, she’s got a plan. She languidly passes her hand in her hair and bites her lip. It always works. Men, honestly… They’re not that complicated. She puts on her number 3 gaze, while she’s at it. One, two, three and… He still looks upset. Ah sh**…
He says something. She doesn’t really listen; she is thinking. She likes his voice. When he’s mad, he can be really commanding. She likes that. Sometimes, it’s a loud voice, sometimes, just an icy tone; she like variety. She’s starting to know it well… An idea, quickly, quickly…
New plan. She slowly extends her long legs on the sofa and stretches. It’s morning: t-shirt, panties, nothing else; perfect tactic. Bonus: lace. Boom! Except that he has now crossed his arms over his chest. Double sh**…
She needs something else. Something irresistible. Think of something, think of something… He says something else. It’s probably important. Ah, it’s the icy tone today. What unpaid bill? No matter. Diversion, diversion!
Little pout, innocent look, hand delicately placed on her neck. Little sigh, Ah! Too easy. Cuddles and kisses will just be the icing on top. He takes her hand. She closes her eyes and holds out her lips. He kisses well, passionately. Except that, instead of a passionate, loving kiss and fireworks, he makes her get up; he sits down and pushes her over his lap.
T-shirt, panties, nothing else; she regrets it instantly. Lace or no lace, slaps come falling down, dry and painful She moan, wiggles and twists. It does nothing, he carries on. He speaks again; it’s his loud voice now. Her bottom is on fire. Her thighs are wet. She lets herself go, closes her eyes and thinks of what they’ll do when he’s satisfied with her punishment. She has a lot of ideas, a plan. Some battles are worth losing.
Robyn’s friends
Robyn played with one of her curls wrapped around her index. She cast a quick glace around the shop and hurried towards the exit.
‘Wait! Miss? Miss? Where are you going?’ asked a loud, stern voice.
‘I… I…’ the young girl stammered, blushing hard. She kept walking towards the exit, head down, eyes shut, trying to avoid the unavoidable.
‘Hey! Wait!’ the other woman continued. She was tall, lean. With a few long strides, she caught up with Robyn and grabbed her arm.
‘L-let me go…’ the young girl tried, biting her lip. She looked up at the woman. The woman’s eyes were ice-cold behind her glasses. She was looking at her up and down, frowning.
‘All right, young lady, where is it?’ she asked.
‘Where is what?’ Robyn said, trying to be defiant.
The woman pushed her glasses up the bridge of her nose and sneered. ‘You know exactly what, young lady.’
‘Let me go! You’re hurting my arm’
‘Where did you stuff the clothes that you took?’
‘I… I…’ Robyn felt tears starting to well up in her eyes, ‘I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to…’
‘You… Didn’t mean to grab clothes off the racks and stuff them somewhere?’
‘No, I… It… Hum… It was a dare and…’
‘A dare?’
‘Yes…’ she said, sheepishly, ‘It’s my friends, they…’
‘What friends?’
‘They’re over… there,’ Robyn said, her voice dropping to a whisper as she pointed to an empty space outside the shop, in the mall. She didn’t think that she could blush more than she was already doing, and yet… Defeated, she looked down at her feet and tugged nervously at her skirt with her free hand.
‘Please…’ she started, but the tall woman interrupted her and raised her hand, palm up.
‘The clothes. Now.’
Biting her lips, Robyn lifted her blouse and pulled up the stolen tee-shirt half-tucked in the waistband or her pleated skirt. Without looking up and without a word, she put it in the woman’s waiting hand.
‘A ten-dollar shirt… Well I hope it was worth it. Come with me.’
‘Wh-what? Where? It… It was just a dare, I swear… Please…’
‘Oh, it’s very simple… We’re going to go in the back, and we’re going to wait for the police to arrive.’
‘The police? No, no, no, no, no… Please! I’ll do anything; please!’
The woman rolled her eyes and punched a code into a secure door.
‘Please!’ Robyn insisted. ‘Please! I’ll work for you; I’ll clean your house! I’ll do anything!’ Tears were rolling down her cheeks.
Having closed the door behind them, the woman finally let go of her arm, and Robyn rubbed it in silence. The woman pointed at a chair. She sat down without a word, her head down in her hands, sobbing and sniffling.
The woman picked up a phone from the desk that occupied a corner of the room. She typed a number and let her finger hover above the ‘call’ button. She looked up at Robyn, sobbing in her chair. She rolled her eyes again and sighed before putting the phone down.
‘What’s your name?’ she asked the girl.
‘R… Robyn Miller, ma’am,’ she managed between two sobs. ‘I’m so sorry…’ she added, quietly.
‘Okay, Robyn Miller. You should re-think who your friends are, don’t you agree?’
‘Yes ma’am…’
‘Do you have a lot of friends, Robyn?’
‘Not… Not really…’
‘And you think that doing any idiotic thing they tell you to do is going to make them your friends?’
‘I… I don’t know, ma’am…’
‘I think you know… I think you know that that’s not how friends treat each other.’
‘Yes ma’am…’
Sitting against the desk, the woman crossed her arms.
‘Now, what do you think should happen?’
‘I… I don’t know… I don’t want to go to j-j-jail’ she bawled.
‘Don’t you think you deserve to be punished? You think stealing is okay?’
‘No, no, it’s not, I know! I’m sorry; I’m SO sorry, I swear… I’ve never done… anything like this…’
‘What should we do, then?’
‘I… Well… I… I don’t…’ she broke into more tears.
The woman rubbed the bridge of her nose,
‘Right. Robyn. Have you been spanked before?’
‘Have I been…’
‘Spanked, yes. As a kid?’
Shocked, Robyn looked up.
‘B-b-by my mom… But… But… I was little and…’
‘You agreed that you deserved to be punished, didn’t you? Would you rather I made that call?’
‘No! No, please!’
‘Then you’re going to come over my knees, and I’m going to give you a spanking you’ll remember for a long, long time. Understood?’
The woman’s piercing blue eyes pinned Robyn in place. The young girl swallowed and nodded quietly.
‘I didn’t hear that?’
‘Yes… Ma’am…’ she sniffled.
The woman snapped her fingers.
‘Get up.’
Robyn did as she was told, and the woman took her place in the chair.
‘Take your skirt and blouse off.’
‘Wh-why?’
‘No arguing, young lady! It’s not too late for me to make that call.’
‘No, no! I’ll do whatever you say.’
She unbuttoned her blouse and put it down on the desk, then undid her skirt and let it fall to the floor in a ruffle of fabric. She stood there, in her underwear, blushing in apprehension.
The woman tapped her lap. ‘Come over here.’
Again, she obeyed, finding her place over the woman’s knees. The position immediately brought back memories of her previous punishments at home, and she clenched her round buttocks reflexively.
‘Why are you being punished, Robyn?’
‘Hum, because… Because I—
SMACK! The first slap cut her reply short. Another followed immediately, an another, and another. Within thirty seconds, she was squirming over the woman’s lap, her panties barely softening the harsh blows that rained down on her bottom. Her eyes filled with tears and she let out a little cry every time the woman’s hand slammed down.
SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK!
Again and again, the stern woman peppered her soft, young bottom with handfuls of scorn.
‘I’m sorry…’ she managed between the sobs that she couldn’t contain. ‘I’m so sorry… I… Oww!’
The first slap on her thigh surprised her. Soon, they were just another area on fire. She felt pain, she was humiliated, she was ashamed of herself. She was angry. At the woman, at herself, and at her pretend friends who’d gotten her in the position.
The woman kept spanking her, a little pinched, satisfied smile on her face. Truth be told, that young girl on her lap was getting punished for all the others she hadn’t caught, and for every disrespectful client to which she’d dreamt she could do the same. Her round globes were bright red, and they bounced adorably with each and every slap.
After what felt to Robyn like an eternity, she was allowed to get up. She waddled to the corner of the room that the woman pointed to. Hands on her head, she waited and sobbed quietly. She had never felt so much pain. She wondered whether she would ever be able to sit again. Another eternity later, she felt a hand gently laying on her shoulder. She turned around, raising watery eyes up to look at her tormentor.
‘What will you do when you get out of here, Robyn Miller?’
‘I… I will go home and…’
‘Robyn…’
‘I… I will find new friends…’
‘Real friends…
‘I don’t know how…’
‘Well, tell you what. If you come back with a resume, I’ll have a spot for you. You can make a little money, and do things that you like, rather than hanging out with people that, clearly, don’t appreciate you.’
‘Oh! I…’ She was so surprised she didn’t know what to say. That woman was clearly evil incarnate, so why would she…
‘And another thing… If you manage to bring one of these ‘friends’ in the shop, I’ll take them to the back and give them a piece of my mind…’ She winked.
Grace and the Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Day
Grace was not having a good day. Not a good day at all.
The hand fell on her pert bottom with a sharp *SMACK!* and she let out a pained moan, biting her lip not to cry out.
“Please…” she begged for the umpteenth time, “Please, Brea… Stop… Pl—”
She screwed her eyes shut as another heavy slap landed on her sore bottom. Again and again the vengeful hand went down, fast, hard, smacking one cheek then the other like a merciless metronome. The piece was allegro, most definitely.
“Brea!” She managed as her tormentor paused to rub her hand and readjust her over her knees.
“What?” the other girl snapped, “I’ve heard all you had to say. It doesn’t change anything.”
“Please… I— OWww! Please! Pl— Oowww! I… I’ve learnt my— Ooowww… Will you please stooOowww…”
Her begging was turning to sobs, and she could feel the tears starting to run down her cheeks.
“Brea! It was just a pho— Ooowww!”
“What? Just a photograph?! You’ve gotta be kidding me…”
“Hum… No…?” she said, hesitantly, “I mean, I didn’t… You know?”
“You didn’t what? Fuck my boyfriend? Well, damn, thank you, that’s very kind of you!”
“That’s not what I…”
“Whatever you meant, I don’t want to hear it. What I can tell you, though, is that after we’re done, he’s going to receive a very surprising pic…”
Out for a jog
Two more laps, she was thinking. Two more lap and she would be done. She closed her eyes and exhaled, concentrating on her rhythm, her breathing. She could feel her heart beating fast, she could feel every muscle in her legs begging her to stop. Two more laps. Just two more.
She opened her eyes and gasped as she ran into the back of another jogger, making them both fall to the ground on the dew-covered grass.
“What the hell ?” she yelled as she got up, getting the grass off her small shorts. “Watch where you’re going, dumbass…”
He got up as well, he was tall, a good head taller than she was. Square jaw, dark hair, freshly shaven, grey eyes… Grey eyes that were glaring at her.
“You ran into me, lady”
She rolled her eyes and made a gesture with her hand.
“Whatever! Leave me alone, you creep.”
“Excuse-me ? Are you blind or something ? You hit me from behind !”
“Oh yeah, well I’m sure you’re used to that…” she said with a hauty smirk.
“Oh, so bratty and intolerant? Well you’re a treat, aren’t you ?”
She blushed instantly and looked down without even thinking, chewing her lips. She knew she had a temper, and sometimes the stupidest things would come out of her mouth before she even thought about them.
“Okay,” she blurted, “That was uncalled for…”
“Is that all?”
“What more do you want?” she said, aggressive once more. She didn’t like his tone. Patronizing and shit, who did he think he was, that Bruce-Wayne wannabe?
“An apology would be the least you could do?” he said in disbelief. What an arrogant brat, he thought.
She laughed. “Oh, the least I could do, huh? What, do you imagine I’ll blow you behind the bushes or something, you goddamn perv?”
He frowned and took a step towards her, pointing a finger
“That’s enough!” he said, menacingly.
She crossed her arms “Oh yeah? Or what? What are you gonna do, huh?”
“Obviously your parents never showed you what happens to disrespectful brats!”
She hesitated for a moment, and blushed under his glare. She felt a shiver running down her spine. Not only that but, looking at him, handsome, well built, and… very angry, she felt something else.
“W-what? You… You wouldn’t…” She felt very confused. How… dare he? How… Surely, he would not…
He didn’t answer and simply grabbed her arm and started walking her towards the bushes she had mentioned earlier. She barely protested. The thought that he would actually go through with it was ridiculous at best. She blushed as she realised she was imagining it. Her, draped across his lap, her bare bottom on display for him to punish like a little misbehaving brat… The sound of harsh slaps echoing through the woods… He would pause and caress her ass while she would sob and beg him to stop….
Her face was already as red as she’d ever been when he stopped and sat on a stump. He crossed his arms.
“Get your shorts off”
“What? Are you crazy?”
“You heard me. Get them off.”
“But… No!”
She was twisting her wrists. She got a finger to her mouth and nervously bit her nail.
“I… I don’t think that’s appropriate…” She was losing all her countenance. There was something about the steely gaze, that stern look.
“You don’t think you deserve it?”
“…”
She looked down and wordlessly pulled her shorts down to the ground, then stepped out of them. She crossed her hand before her white knickers. He indicated for her to come over his lap. She did, tears already forming in her eyes. What was she doing ? What in the name of… *SMACK!* The first slap caught her totally off-guard, and she cried out as much in surprise as in pain. The next one wasn’t far behind, and the next one, and the next. Before long, heavy tears were rolling down her cheeks, and, just as she had envisioned, she was begging him to stop.
For a first time, he gave her the full experience. The panties came down, the slaps kept coming until he was certain that she had been properly chastised. Finally, he got her up and wiped the tears away with his thumb.
“I’ll be waiting for you here next Saturday,” he said, sternly. “If you haven’t behaved during the week, you’ll get another one. Clear ?”
She nodded. “Y-yes, Sir…” She didn’t know where the words had even come from, but she knew one thing: she would be there.
With a nod, he turned around and started running, leaving her to put her shorts back on, rubbing her bright red behind and wondering what she had gotten herself into. Her bottom was so warm she couldn’t believe it. As she stood there, rubbing it, she bit her lip and smiled. Well he was handsome, after all, maybe… Maybe she didn’t need to behave all that much…
