Friday, October 12, 2012
Schoolgirl Come-uppance
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| Mischeivous Ellie |
I am in a music shop one day, looking
through CDS, when my attention is distracted by a very attractive young woman
in her mid twenties, slim, with full breasts and an achingly cute bottom only
just covered by a wispy cotton summer skirt. There is something vaguely
familiar about her. She becomes aware of me watching her and glances up at me,
smiles and says “Hello Mr Bailey!”
“Ellie Gibson!” I exclaim.
“That’s me, sir. Still staring at my
breasts I see,” she says with a laugh.
“Still being cheeky,” I reply.
We go and get a coffee and chat about old
times – specifically my English classes when she was sixteen years old. I
remind her of all the notes I used to catch her writing, most of them saying
things like “Mr Bailey keeps staring at my bum!” Then she declares: “Do you
remember that time you kept me behind for messing about and you said I was
lucky you weren’t allowed to do what you wanted to do.”
I recall that afternoon like it was
yesterday: me sitting perched on the side of my desk, arms folded, Ellie
shuffling in front of me with a surly look on her face.
“Tell me sir,” she now asks, sipping her
coffee, “what was it you wanted to do to me?”
I laugh. “That’s a dangerous question.”
“I like danger. Tell me.” She looks at me
with flashing eyes, as if challenging me.
“Actions speak louder than words,” I
reply. “Finish your coffee.”
We drain our cups, then I take her firmly
by the elbow and lead her out of the coffeehouse. My apartment is only a five
minute walk away. “Why are we going to your apartment?” she asks. I don’t reply.
I slip my hand down her back and around her waist, my hand nestling just above
her left buttock, pressing gently to propel her along. I can feel a quiver to
her warm flesh under the thin fabric of her dress.
“I better warn you, I’m not going to let
you fuck me,” she says.
I give you a sharp little slap on her
bottom.
“Hey!”
“You haven’t changed, have you Ellie?” My
voice is strong and steady, rebuking. Under my cool exterior I feel a rush of
elation at the thought of what I am about to do. I sense she has a inkling of
what lies in store, although I’m confident that she has no idea of the severity
of what awaits her.
We walk up to my first floor apartment in
silence. I send her through to the living room as I unset the alarm. When I
join her she is admiring the furniture and fittings of my chic city flat.
“Wonderful apartment,” she says.
“Shut up!”
She seems surprised by the sternness of my voice, and shuffles from one foot to
the other, clearly fearful. “I think I ought to leave,” she stammers.
“I’ll decide when you leave, young lady.”
I push her and she falls backwards onto my sofa. I stand over her and lean
forward, almost nose to nose and say in a tone of controlled anger: “You, Miss Gibson, we were the rudest, most
ill-mannered girl it was ever my misfortune to teach. You were disobedient, you
never concentrated, you spread nasty rumours –about me in particular. You spent
all my lessons at the back of the class giggling and distracting others. You
behaved like you were untouchable, above the law. Didn’t you?”
“Yes sir,” she mumbles.
“Now, all these years on, you’re still
just as cheeky and mischievous. When was the last time someone put you over
their knee and spanked you?”
She hesitates, then replies, “When I was
18, sir.”
“Eighteen!” I feign incredulity. “Are you
married?”
“I’ve got a boyfriend.”
“And does he never pull down your pants
and give your cheeky little bottom the walloping it deserves?”
“N-no sir.”
“Well then,” I say, sitting down beside
her, “it’s a good I’m here to put that right.”
I yank her sharply across my lap,
positioning her so that her cute bottom is raised over my knees and immediately
start spanking her with sharp rapid
slaps – SMACK SMACK SMACK SMACK SMACK SMACK SMACK SMACK. She’s surprised by the
suddenness and vehemence of the spanking, crying out “Ow! “Oh!” “Sir” “Don’t”
as the spanks keep coming.
Her light skirt is little more than a
chiffon of material folding around her bum. After a couple of dozen sound
smacks I pause, take the hem of your skirt and flip it up around her waist,
exposing her delectable bottom spilling out of an alluring pair of little white
lace knickers. Her bum cheeks are already glowing nicely.
She anticipates my next move and reaches
a hand behind her, trying to protect her vulnerable rear. “Please sir, no!” she
cries.
I grab her wrist and twist her arm away,
trapping it in the small of her back.
“Don’t waste your breath pleading,” I
inform her. “I have waited ten years to do this. Nothing can save you from your
fate, my girl.”
With one mighty tug I rip her panties
down, snapping the elastic. I feast my eyes on her wondrous bare backside,
already very rosy. After all those years of putting up with her bare-faced
cheek, at last, those bared faced cheeks are at my mercy.
I raise my hand high in the air and
repeat my words from the coffee house. “Actions speak louder than words.” Then,
tightening my grip so that she cannot wriggle free, I start to tan her bottom –
SPANK! SPANK! SPANK! SPANK! SPANK! SPANK! SPANK! SPANK! – with all the forceful
vigour I can muster. Her cries ring out but I keep on spanking – SPANK! SPANK!
SPANK! SPANK! SPANK! SPANK! SPANK! SPANK! SPANK! SPANK! – bringing my hand down
on her reddening rear with a ferocity that surprises even me. I continue until
her yells and screams have turned into exhausted little gasps of pain. By now
her poor little bottom is redder than beetroot.
Finally I stop. She lies limp and sobbing
cover my knees. “Have you learnt your lesson young lady?” I ask.
“Yes,” she replies meekly.
I pretend not to hear and give her one
more ginormous SPANK!!!!!!!!!!!
“Yes sir,” she blurts out.
“Good.”
I roll her off my knees and she tumbles
to the floor. She winces as her livid little bottom grazes the prickly Persian
rug on the floor.
She gingerly gets to her feet, rubbing her bum, clearly in great discomfort.
She twists round, trying to look at her blazing buttocks. “What am I going to
tell my boyfriend when he sees my arse like this?” she asks.
“Tell him the truth, Ellie – tell him
that finally someone has been man enough to give you the spanking you so richly
deserve.”
“I’m not saying that!” she says with a
dry laughs. “He wouldn’t understand.”
I place my hands on her shoulders. “The
important thing is that we understand. I expect to see you here at six o’clock
every Friday. You will tell me what you’ve been up to during the week, and if
you’ve been a naughty girl I shall spank your bare bottom just like I did
today. Agreed?”
She hangs her head. “Yes sir. Thank you
sir.”
“OK, you may go home now.”
She picks up her tattered knickers.
I reach out my hand and say “I’ll take
those.
“I can’t walk down the road with no
knickers,” she protests, “people will see my smacked bottom!”
“Give them!”
She hands me her panties,. “This is so
embarrassing,” she says as she tugs down the hem of her skirt as she leaves.
But there’s a little smile on her lips as she leaves.
I stand at my window and watch her
striding down the street, a gentle breeze wafting around the hem of her flimsy
skirt. Ever the drama queen, and always eager to shock, she makes little effort
to keep her bright red bottom under wraps. I wonder if she’ll be so cheeky when
I introduce her to the hairbrush, the slipper, the belt and, it wouldn’t
surprise me, the cane. There is a lot of misbehaviour to be addressed.
Monday, August 06, 2012
Redhead, Red Bottom
At the end of a long harassed day of meetings, I like nothing better than to repair to a good restaurant and remind myself of the finer things in life – a perky red wine, a heartening broth, a succulent steak, a rich brandy; all served up in the soothing surroundings, accompanied by light jazz tinkling from a baby grand pianist.
What I don't need is some stroppy little madam who, although quite indisputably my waitress for the evening, seems to think she's too good to wait on tables.
When she first approached my table I admit my eyes lit up. A vision of astounding beauty, dressed in a short, black skirt, white blouse, white apron, stockings and heels. I've always had a weakness for redheads. They have fire and wit and elegance and poise and –
"Do you know what you want or are you just going to sit and gawp at me?"
– breathtaking arrogance!
"Is that always how you greet your diners."
She shrugged off my remark and pulled out her notepad. "The special is quail. But don't even go there. The Chablis's on offer if you want a cheap night. I can recommend the filet de boeuf – even our chef can't fuck that one up. I'll come back when you've made some sort of decision."
She sauntered over to another table. Part of me was annoyed by her perfunctory attitude; another part – the part that was feasting on her stupendous behind – was thinking "Oh my word, nice arse!"
Hindsight is cunning devil, but I swear that even at that early stage of the proceedings I had an inkling of where Ms Redhead and I were heading. I've been round the block a few times; I know what certain haughty young women need every once in a while.
She let me stew for ten more minutes then came back and took my order. Very distant and indifferent. Apart from an appreciative nod when the wine waiter brought me my wine – a deep satisfying St-Emillion that I as well acquainted with – she did a good impression of not even listening. A few careless scribbles on her notepad and she was off to the kitchen, wiggle wiggle wiggle, leading with her bum. Nice arse sure, but my gosh didn't she know it!
The maitre d' must have seen me frowning. He slide to my table like a snake through grass.
"Everything to your satisfaction sir?"
"Your staff could do with a training day."
The maitre d' smiled forbearingly. "Ah, you've met Linni!"
"Possibly the rudest waitress I've had the displeasure of meeting."
"Sorry sir. She's normally very courteous, if a trifle haughty. Her fatal flaw is that she doesn't like to be crossed?"
"In what way can I have possibly crossed her?"
"No no, it's me she's displeased with. She wanted the night off but we're understaffed. She likes to get her own way. I assure you it's nothing personal against you."
"Well tell her it will be if she carries on like this."
The maitre d' went back to his station. A few minutes later, when Linni returned from the kitchen with my soup, he took her aside and whispered urgently into her ear. She glanced across at me as he spoke. The look in her eyes could have lit a bonfire.
She brought over my soup, placed it in front of me, forced a smile and turned away.
"Thank you, Linni," I said.
She paused for a moment before she turned. "My friends call me Linni. You can call me Ms Carr."
I couldn't help but grin at the sheer audacity of this girl.
"It's not funny," she went on. "I've just had my wrist slapped because of you."
"Oh trust me, that's not the only thing that's going to get slapped if you don't change your attitude."
Her eyes opened in wide astonishment. "What did you say?"
I held her gaze. "You heard me. You are in grave danger of not sitting down till Tuesday."
And there it was – that challenging spark in her eyes, the look that passes between two duellists as they square up at dawn. Her unspoken message was loud and clear: "Don't even think about it mister." But as she turned and headed off there was a pointed exaggeration to the sway of her hips, adding a touch of petulance as she wriggled her unspeakably cute bottom back to the kitchen. Another unspoken message: "Come on then, if you think you're hard enough!"
I tucked into my pumpkin and lemongrass soup with relish. I never pass up a challenge. She had no idea what was coming her way. Though, frankly, perhaps she did. She'd been asking for trouble from the moment I sat down at my table. And, as the maitre d' had explained, she was used to getting what she asked for. Only a cad would deny her.
The rest of the meal – a fine steak, medium rare, with crisp seasonable vegetables, followed by a tangy lemon tart with raspberry compote – passed without incident. Ms Carr was polite if rather aloof; plenty of "Sirs", "My pleasure" and "You're welcome"; but behind the perfunctory smile an unspoken resentment.
I appreciated her attempts at civility, of course. And yet, I was slightly disappointed that she'd been tamed so easily.
My disappointment was short lived.
As Linni approached my table with a tray of coffee, brandy and petit fours I could see a determined, even defiant, spring in her step. She leaned over as she placed the petit fours on the table, arching across me and raising her bum slightly higher than necessary.
"Thank you, Ms Carr. Your attitude has improved greatly."
She rolled her eyes. "Well, of course it has. Are you some kind of idiot? Did you really think I was going to give you an excuse to humiliate me in public?"
I frowned. "Careful now."
"Careful nothing. I've been sweetness personified. Now shut up and drink your coffee."
She slammed down the double espresso on the table in front of me. The cup toppled over, catching the lip of the saucer and spraying dark black liquid down the front of my crisp white shirt.
"Shit!" Her face was a picture: a mix of self-annoyance, apology and then pure dread as I rose to my feet. She backed away. "Now look, that was a genuine mistake. Sorry. I'll pay for the dry cleaning."
"You'll definitely pay, young lady!"
I seized hold of her arm and, in a swift well-practised manoeuvre, lifted her off her feet, perched myself on the edge of the dining table and swept her over my raised knee. After her initial gasp of surprise, she tried to struggle free. I gripped her tightly around her slender waist. My free hand grabbed the hem of her tight skirt and started hitching it up. To her credit she did not give up easily: she writhed and kicked and squirmed, doing her damnedest to resist; and yet curiously each wriggle only seemed to ease the passage of her skirt up her thighs. In a trice, her heart-stoppingly gorgeous bottom was exposed, clad in a pair of sexy black lace panties. I tucked my fingers into the waistband.
She twisted round and hissed over her shoulder, "No way!"
"This is going to happen, Ms Carr. There is nothing you can do or say."
I yanked down her knickers, ripping them in the process, and immediately began spanking her with a vengeance. No preamble, no pause, no mercy; just harsh angry slaps, loud and hot and furious, my hand rising and falling with increasing weight and pace as I unleashed all my pent-up anger on this her sassy bare bottom. SPANK!! SPANK!!! SPANK!!!!!
As before, she did not go gently – she yelped and fought and hollered, finding her voice every now and then to utter a choice phrase – "Let me OWWW!", "How dare OWWW!" – that were cut short by the pain spreading over her rapidly reddening arse.
Her protests only fuelled my wrath. I trapped her legs between mine, tightened my grip and tanned her backside harder than she could ever have imagined possible, relishing every wild almighty wallop, keeping a vice-like hold of her as she continued to kick and struggle, making sure she felt the full force of my fury. It was a wild, ferocious battle of wills, and I had no intention of stopping until I'd shown her who was in charge. I was into my stride now. I kept spanking her and spanking her, long and hard, taking her breath away with a crescendo of stinging slaps until she had no choice but to surrender.
And finally she did, hanging limply over my knee, a haughty young woman reduced to a naughty little girl who had finally been taught what a soundly smacked bottom really felt like.
My work done, I let her go and she sprang to her feet, her hands instinctively clutching her blazing behind. She looked shocked and bewildered, as if trying to take in what had happened to her.
The room burst into applause. In the heat of the moment I'd forgotten we'd had an audience. So, I suspect had she. Now she suddenly found herself in a crowded dining room with her skirt around her waist, her knickers tangled round her knees and her soundly spanked arse on display for all to see.
She hurriedly hitched up her panties and hissed, "I'll never forgive you for this.'" Then she made her exit, with as much dignity as she could muster, struggling to tug her tight dress down her thighs as she passed the amused and still applauding diners.
I took a bow. It would have been impolite not to.
As the applause died down and diners returned chuckling and gossiping to their meals, the maitre d' took me to one side. His furrowed brow suggested he was displeased by the commotion, but then a tiny smile danced across his lips. "Well done. That's been overdue."
"My pleasure."
"The meal is on the house. A token of my appreciation."
I took a business card from my jacket pocket and handed it to him. "If my services are ever required again, don't hesitate to call."
"Thank you sir."
"You might mention to Ms Carr that I'm a dab and with a wooden spatula."
"I'm sure the threat alone will keep her in line."
I glanced across at where Linni was standing by the kitchen, a study in red: red hair, red face, a shockingly red bottom. More than that, even at twenty paces I could see the red rage simmering her eyes.
She might never forgive me, but I suspected this wasn't our last encounter.
Monday, April 21, 2008
Brooke luvs her lesson
“Now then, Brooke, I’ve called you in here to discuss your poor progress.”
“Mmm, thank you sir – I love a caring teacher.”
I lookup from her report card (which is a sorry display of B’s and C’s for such a bright student) and immediately I can see what the root of the problem is: Brooke is slouched in the chair opposite me, her shoulders slung back, her youthful and undeniably sexy body spilling from a red summer dress that is far too short for its own good, and her eyes sparkling with mischief as she sucks suggestively on a lollipop.
I shift in my seat. “Will you kindly take that out of your mouth whilst I’m talking to you.”
“Why sir,” she replies, a wide rude smile breaking across her sweet innocent face, “do you want a suck?” She licks the lolly with her little pink tongue and then wraps her luscious lips around it, sucking in her cheeks and holding my gaze with a look that says far more than a nice girl should know.
“Brooke!” I say sternly. “This is English Lit, not 101 Porn Studies.”
“Professor Bailey! The things you say!” She giggles, slouches deeper into the chair, lifts her legs and crosses her feet on my desk. She smiles and continues sucking on her lollipop as her dress rides up to reveal a tempting little v of white panties between her legs.
I know precisely what this little madam is playing at. She is getting excited by the danger of her sexuality. I remind myself that I am in a position of authority and try to retain my composure as I explain that she needs to spend less time indulging in her hedonist pursuits on the beach and more time concentrating on her academic studies. She responds to my reprimands with little drawn out mmhmmm’s that sound more like moans of deep pleasure than murmurs of agreement.
By now my patience is running low, and it is almost on empty when Brooke stops me in mid flow, pulls the lolly from her mouth and says, “Sir, can I ask you a question?”
“Go on.”
She open her legs and says in her sweetest voice, “Are you staring at my panties?”
"Brooke! If you don't behave so help me I'll -"
“You’ll what, sir? I'm not afraid of you.”
"Well young lady, you better be!”
She climbs onto my desk, swinging her knees around and placing her feet on the arms of my chair. She leans forward and whispers in my ear, “You won't do anything. I know what you want. Come and get it.”
She runs the lollipop over my lips. Now I'm hard and raging. She’s pushing her lithe body towards me, her breasts close to my face. Unable to contain myself any longer, I run my hand up her inner thigh and under her skirt. Her panties are shockingly wet. She sighs at my touch and slides her hand down my body.
I grab her arm to stem her progress. “I’ll lose my job.”
“So what? I’m worth it!”
And that’s when I snap. I seize hold of her shoulders and say, “Right young lady, you're going to get something you really deserve!”
She is startled by the angry tone of my voice. Suddenly she loses something of her swagger “What!?”
“You are not too big for a good spanking.”
I grab her and pull her down onto my lap. She struggles. “Professor Bailey! you can't do this!” But her words are undermined by the way she wriggles on my lap, grinding her cute little bottom against my hardness. She knew this coming the moment she walked into my office. And frankly, so did I.
I rise up, perch on the edge of the desk and swing her over my knee.
“Professor, no!”
In spite of my protests, her ass is rising in anticipation of what’s to come. Her short dress rucks up and I help it on its way, exposing her eager ass. Her tiny white panties offer no protection at all, but nevertheless I yank them down, violently, ripping them.
Brooke lets out a hearty yelp and screams, “Help me! Someone rescue me!”
“Yell all you like, Brooke, this has been a long time coming.”
I hold her tight over my knee, raise my hand high in the air and -SPAAAAAAANNNNKKK!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
“Ooooooohhhhhhhhh,” she screams, renewing her struggle.
I tighten my grip and smack her bare bottom with a passion that shocks me almost as much as it does her. The air fills with the sound of SPAANNKK!!! SPAANNKK!!! SPAANNKK!!! on her poor defenceless little ass.
She turns and looks at me over her shoulder. Tears fill her eyes. But she stops struggling and starts letting out little whimpers. Keeping her firm over my knee, I slow the pace down. Hard rhythmic slaps.
She turns and looks at me over her shoulder. Tears fill her eyes. But she stops struggling and starts letting out little whimpers. Keeping her firm over my knee, I slow the pace down. Hard rhythmic slaps.
“You will learn to behave young lady!”
SPANNKKK!!
“Yes sir,” she sniffs as her body shudders.
I caress her rosy bottom in between each stinging slap. Her whimpers start to mix with little moans. I carry on spanking her with loud steady mesmeric smacks until finally her body is limp in full surrender to me.
I cannot resist slipping my fingers between her legs. She spreads her thighs a little giving me greater access. I slide my finger into her hot tight pussy. The breathless little gasp she lets out is enough to break my heart.
I ask, “Are you going to be a good girl now?
“Yes sir, I'll be a good girl. I'll do anything you ask.”
“Good.” I hold her over my knee for a few more moments, caressing, probing, savouring the warm weight of her sweet eager body.
And then I let her go and sit down on my chair. I slouch back, hold her gaze and say, “Why don’t you show me how good you can be.”
“Yes sir!” she says, with the biggest wickedest grin I have ever seen.
Labels: student spanking
Monday, August 27, 2007
The Naughty Girl In Room 69
“Pleasuring herself,” interjected her blue-rinsed companion. “And I can’t even begin to describe we saw her doing with the waiter last night.”
“Honestly Mr Bailey, we were lead to believe this was a respectable hotel.”
“Don’t worry ladies, I’ll attend to this matter straight away.”
I smiled to myself as I headed upstairs to Room 69. In my time as proprietor of Hotel Espana I often had to deal with rude young women who think that because they’re away from home they can go wild and frighten the elderly residents. It was a task I never tired of performing.
This particular visitor – a Ms Abbi Charlton – had clocked up an impressive record of misdemeanours in her two days with us, ranging from skinny dippy in the hotel pool to seducing the new bell-hop in the hotel laundry. It therefore came as no surprise to discover the door to Room 69 wide open and Ms Charlton lying face down on her bed, stark naked, with her hands underneath her and a dreamy look on her face.
I entered the room, closed the door and coughed to announce my presence.
She stopped what she was doing and looked up. There was no sense of shame, only a look of mild irritation, “Excuse me, do I know you?” she asked.
“Abbi Charlton?”
“Yeah.”
“Good.” I took off my jacket and draped it over a chair.
“Look whoever-you-are, you can’t walk in here. I’m naked!”
She reached for her bikini pants. I pulled them from her grasp. “You won’t be needing those.”
“What the hell is going on here?” she demanded.
“You’ve been a very naughty girl,” I explained, rolling up my shirt sleeves, “and you need a good spanking.”
“What?!” She looked surprised, and then laughed mockingly. “Do you seriously think I’m going to let a complete stranger slap my bum?”
"Of course not,” I replied, “But as hotel manager I’m not asking for your permission.”
I reached across the bed to grab hold of her. She span away from my grasp and tried to bolt out of the room. The door was locked. “I demand you open this door!”
“You’re in no position to make demands, young lady. You have been upsetting my other guests and you will be punished.”
I moved towards her. She backed away. “Look, if you so much as touch me I’ll –’
She didn’t get to finish the sentence. With a swiftness borne of long-practised dexterity, I lifted and turned her and in a trice she was dangling over my raised knee feeling the mighty SLAP! of my strong hand on her bare arse.
“Oww!! Stop this!”
She put her hands behind her to try and protect her bottom. I grabbed her wrists, pinned them behind her back and proceed to spank the living daylights out of the little madam, hot stinging smacks intended to shock with their intensity.
“Fuck you, you bastard!” she hissed angrily.
I responded by smacking her bottom REALLY hard. She screamed and writhed but I could soon sense excitement in her outrage, which that aroused me greatly. I carried on tanning her bare arse with gusto. Her sound and fury melted into deep moans of pain and pleasure and she started grinding her taut body against my hardness.
I stopped spanking but keep her over my knee. I smoothed my hand over her bright red butt, caressing. "You little minx, you're loving this," I laughed. I slid my hand between her thighs.
"Let. Me. Go." She said through clenched teeth.
I smacked her bottom again, so hard the windows rattled when she screamed out. "Are you forgetting who's in charge here?"
My fingers probed deeper.
Her sighs of pleasure urged me on. I pushed my fingers inside. She was so hot and wet. She responded by wriggling urgently on my lap, rubbing herself against my hardness. I slapped her arse hard. "Abbi, stop this at once! This is punishment not pleasure.”
But who was I kidding? I tipped her onto the bed. She fell back and spread herself, wanton and wide open. A mischievous smile broke across her face.
Running a hotel is a demanding job but boy does it have its compensations, I thought to myself as I unbuckled my belt and loosened my trousers.
Two Very Naughty Girls
I am tired and frazzled from a long week away from home at a conference, looking forward to a long soak in the bath with a few glasses of good wine. But those plans are scuppered as I ascend the stair to my study and hear the gleeful giggles of two mischievous minxes.
“This is so kinky!” says a voice that I instantly recognise as my naughty girl Dana.
“He’s got a one track mind,” cries the second voice – her equally blonde and beautiful friend and fuckbudddy Jane.
I step into the room and discover the two girls bending over in front of my computer, peering at the screen. I am greeted by the arousing vision of their sassy scantily-clad asses. Dana is wearing black lace bra and thong; Jane’s undies are similar but virginal white (not that I imagine she was ever a virgin!).
I watch them caressing each other’s butts, in a world of their own, engrossed in the action on my computer screen, unaware I’m standing right behind them.
They’re watching a scene from a spanking video: a pretty blonde is over a stern man’s knee, her mini-skirt around her waist, her panties around her knees. His free hand holding hers behind her back, whilst his other hand is poised to deliver a robust spank to her already very rosy rear; a sexy long-haired young lady looks on with trepidation, knowing that she will be receiving the same treatment when her angry uncle has finished with her cousin.
“This is hot,” says Dana.
"Is that why you’re so wet?” Jane replies, slipping her hand into her friend’s panties.
“Fuck,” Dana sighs, “I think I’m going to cum in my panties! I hope you’ve brought the strap-on!”
“That won’t be necessary,” I say sternly.
They straighten up and spin round to face me, looking guilty and fearful.
“Hi Tom, we were wondering when you’d be home,” Dana tries to sound breezy but the look in her eyes tells me she knows she’s in big trouble.
“What have I told you about playing with my computer?”
Jane steps away from Dana and tries to assert some authority, “It was her idea, the dirty bitch!”
“What!” Dana protests, “you’re the one who broke the window to get in here.”
Jane ignores Dana’s words and turns to me. “Tom, don’t listen to her. She needs a good spanking. In fact, if you like, I’ll do it for you.”
“You fucking dare!” spits Dana.
“SHUT UP!” I yell. The girls fall silent. “Breaking and entering is serious offense. The truth is you both need a sound spanking. And more to the point you are both going to get one.”
I take hold of Dana’s arm and drag her over to my sofa and sit down. “Tom, please no,” she mumbles as I pull her over my knee, then grab her wrists and pin them behind her back I secure an arm tightly around her waist and launch immediately into a volley of sharp smacks on her bare ass.
Dana screams and twists on my knee but at the same time her back is arching and her bottom rises to accept each hard stinging slap. I spank her for a long time, without mercy, building to a crescendo of angry slaps that leave her ass so hot and blazing
As I spank Jane is egging me on. “That’s it Tom, teach the bitch her lesson. You’ve had this coming, D, and I hope it fucking hurts!”
When I’ve finished with Dana she is limp over my knee, sobbing, gasping, her butt cheeks so hot and blazing that I know she won’t be sitting down for the rest of the day.
I pull Dana to her feet and order her to stand in the corner. I turn to Jane and beckon her with my finger.
“Actually, Tom, love to stay, but I’m expected home.”
“You’re going nowhere until I’ve dealt with you – severely.”
“Dream on pal!”
I try to grab her but she’s dances away. She rounds the desk, but as she tries to make for the door Dana puts out a leg and sends her sprawling to the ground.
“Bitch!” she hisses at Dana.
I grab Jane’s arm and haul her to her feet.
A wrestling match ensues. She puts up one hell of a fight to prevent herself going over my knee but I manage to perch myself on the edge of my desk and turn her over my raised knee After some strong resistance I trap her kicking legs between mine. Finally I have her where I want her.; I raise my arm aloft and bring my hand down on your ass with an almighty SPLAT!
“OW!!!” Jane yells, shocked by the intensity of the spank.
I tan her ass with the same fast and furious slaps I gave Dana. Jane is screaming blue murder – “Ow – Stop! – ow! – Don’t – ow! –OW! – You fucking bastar – OWWWW!” Her anger only serves to inspire me to greater swipes across her bucking rear.
Once I’m satisfied that Jane has been soundly spanked I stop. She turns towards Dana as she climbs off my knee and cries, “Look at that whore! She’s bringing herself off.”
Sure enough, Dana is on her hands and knees on the floor, with a dreamy grin on her face and her hand in her panties, rubbing herself frantically.
“Dirty cow! Are you going to let her get away with that?” Jane protests.
“No, I’m not.” I turn to Dana. “Did I say you play with yourself?”
“Sorry,” Dana mutters, pulling her fingers from her pussy. “Are you going to spank me again?”
“You need more than spanking, you dirty little girl. I turn to Jane. “Fetch your strap-on!”
“Yes sir!” Jane replies eagerly. She hurries off to get her toy, wriggling her bright red ass as she goes.
I start to unbuckle my belt. Dana’s eyes open wide in expectation and she crawls over on her hands and knees to see if she can be of assistance.
I can tell it’s going to be a very long night.
Monday, October 31, 2005
Spanking Ellie
My most recent playmate was a woman I met at a night club a couple of years ago. She had a boyfriend her own age (mid 20s) but liked the idea of an older man in her life. Her boyfriend wasn’t into going to night clubs and seem happy for me to be her escort. Ellie was a terrible tease when she'd had a few drinks and one night at a club she started dancing provocatively with strangers (as she always did, but this time more so). She already knew about my penchant - I'd playfully slapped her bottom a few times before and her response was to wiggle and giggle with delight. On the way home we joked about what an outrageous tease she had been. When I said "You're in big trouble, young lady!" there was a glint of excitement in her eye, then she said "You’re dying to spank me, aren’t you?" We both knew the answer.As soon as we got back to my apartment I grabbed her, sat down and pulled her over my lap, hitched up her short skirt and spanked her. As I flipped up her short skirt she laughed and said she hoped she wouldn’t regret letting me do this. I told her I hoped she would. The spanking consisted of little more than firmly delivered pats, with lots of wiggling and giggling on her part. After a dozen or so smacks I asked her if she had learnt her lesson. She twisted and looked over my shoulder and said with a grin that she didn't know, so I gave her bottom one big SPANK that she really wasn't expecting. She cried "OW" and then "Fucking hell!" She looked a bit shy as she got to her feet and was very eager to pull her skirt back down. I think she was embarrassed by the last hard smack, though she later denied this. I know she was surprised by how aroused I was and how excited she felt. We had lots of fun that night! I told her I was going to spank her every time she was naughty. She said it was a “weird” idea but I could see she meant “weird” in a good way.
Spanking became a regular part of our friendship. The early spankings were light and playful - "fabricated" spanks rather than the real thing - but as our friendship developed the spankings got bolder. On one occasion I punished her severely enough to make her cry real tears. But in many ways the first experience was the most exciting, because she was the first woman I’d put over my knee in five years and also because it was the first time she’d ever been spanked.
Her boyfriend was happy enough for an older man to befriend his girlfriend. He hated nightclubs and so I became ellie's "dancing companion". She even told him that I'd occasionally "smack her bottom" when she got too troublesome. Apparently, he seemed to approve, but I'm not sure he knew the extent of the spankings.
The first bottom I ever smacked
My first “hands on” experience came at university. My friend Ruth was bit of a wild girl. She was always missing lectures and one day I quipped that she needed her bottom slapped. It was an off the cuff remark which I thought she’d laugh off, but instead she turned and stuck out her bum and said “Yes please.” Until then I never quite believed that there were women – real women – who wanted to be spanked. I gave her a couple of light spanks, and things sort of progressed from there. It was all very tame and jokey. I was too shy in those days to tan her bare backside the way she wanted me to. Oh the sweet naivety of youth! Since then I’ve had a few friends and girlfriends who were into being spanked, though I’m by no means a seasoned expert. It doesn’t consume my life, it’s just a penchant I enjoy indulging in.
Statement of intent
I am a freelance writer, single and based in Manchester. I've been fascinated by spanking for many years.
It's been mostly a private delight. I've smacked a few bottoms in my time – the first when I was at uni, the most recent a few months ago – and also enjoyed many dalliances online. I enjoy sharing fantasies and experiences, and this blog is intended to extent that pleasure.
My ideal spanking playmate is someone bright, lively and adventurous - a woman who knows what she wants and how to make sure she gets it. It has to be mutual fun, not real punishment or coercion. I favour using my hand, but a slipper or hairbrush can be fun too.
It's been mostly a private delight. I've smacked a few bottoms in my time – the first when I was at uni, the most recent a few months ago – and also enjoyed many dalliances online. I enjoy sharing fantasies and experiences, and this blog is intended to extent that pleasure.
My ideal spanking playmate is someone bright, lively and adventurous - a woman who knows what she wants and how to make sure she gets it. It has to be mutual fun, not real punishment or coercion. I favour using my hand, but a slipper or hairbrush can be fun too.
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