Claire’s training

“S… Stop…” Claire panted, her face red with exhaustion. She bent over, putting her hands on her knees, and tried to calm her breathing.

The other woman turned around and came to her, still jogging. “What, now?”

“I… I just can’t go on!” she said, still catching her breath.

“Are you kidding? It hasn’t been half a mile yet!” the other woman frowned.

Claire kept looking down, biting her lips, tears forming already.

“No…” she said timidly, “I just can’t… I’m not fit at all, you know that.”

“Yes, I know, that’s why you hired me, Claire,” the personal trainer said, “I explained to you how we would proceed, yes?”


“You want to fit in your wedding dress, correct?”

“Yes… I do…”

“How much longer do you have?”

“F-Five weeks,” she stuttered.

“Five weeks,” the trainer repeated, “Do you think you’ll reach your goal in five weeks if you abandon after 600 yards?”

“But I can’t breathe! I’m exhausted already… I’ve tried, right? I’ll do better tomorrow.. I’m just a little tired, it’s early and—

“I don’t want to hear it,” the other woman snapped, and Claire was silenced immediately, “Again, we agreed on how things would go, Claire.”

She used her name as if she were admonishing a misbehaving little girl, and she felt shameful at the idea. She straightened up, her breathing a little calmer now. The blush on her round cheeks hadn’t receded, quite the contrary.

The trainer spoke again, “I guarantee you will fit in that dress in five weeks, but for that to happen, we’ll have to do things my way.” She pointed at a nearby bench. “Come with me.”

“No!” Claire protested, “You’re not really going to spank me…”

“You agreed to it, didn’t you?”

“No… I mean, yes but…”

“But what, Claire?”


“Do you want to fit in that dress or not?”

“Yes… of course I do…”

The woman took her by the arm and started to walk towards the bench, Claire in tow.

“Please… It’s… it’s right on the road… I… We can do it back home, okay?”

“Oh no, young lady” —there was that condescending tone again— “We’re not done running, we’re continuing right after I’m done here.” Her tone brooked no arguing.

Her eyes full of tears, Claire followed, shamefully. “Please… Somewhere out of the way… Please…”

Rolling her eyes, the trainer got them through a little bush and into a little clearing. It would hardly shield the noise, but at least they were out of view. There weren’t many people jogging at this hour, and even then, the lesson would all the more fruitful if someone happened to discover them.

Claire was sniffling, unable to contain the tears. The mere thought of her, a grown woman, being spanked over someone’s lap… It made her shiver. What an idiot she had been, what kind of trainer threatened to spank her trainees? Why had she accepted that at all? And yet… She really wanted that dream wedding, that beautiful dress, she wanted to do everything right and to look the perfect bride. She knew she should have tried harder.

The stern woman sat on a low branch, still holding Claire by the arm. She unceremoniously pulled the curvy young woman over her lap and started spanking her round, bouncy bottom over her tracksuits. The sound disturbed a couple of birds that flew away in a flutter. She kept on slamming her hand on Claire’s bottom, faster, harder, drawing out little cries of pain and shame.

Not daring to speak up, the young woman tried to keep her lips sealed. The noise was bad enough, her bottom was burning already. Tears were rolling down her cheeks. She finally let out a sigh of relief when the trainer stopped spanking her.

“I..” she started, then felt the woman’s hand on the belt of the trousers, grabbing them and pulling them down. “No no no no no…!” she pleaded in a tearful voice, “Don’t! Please! I’ll run! I’ll do everything you tell me to do; I…”

Her white, unflattering panties came down next, and she felt the cool morning air on her bottom and thighs. She broke down in sobs as the slaps rained down again, harder than before, on her sit spots, down her thighs, covering her large behind in red handprints. She begged with every breath, biting her lips, sniffling, crying.


After what felt like an eternity, the woman relented and ordered her up.

“Now,” she said in a more gentle tone, “we’re going to take it slow and we’ll go to the end of the planned run, all right?”

Claire nodded quickly, pulling her panties and trousers back up, too ashamed to speak. The woman thumbed a few tears away. “It’s always hardest the first day,” she said with a little smile.

“Yes ma’am,” Claire said in a tiny voice, rubbing her burning bottom.

As they came out of the bushes, the young woman still wiping tears off her cheeks, a jogger ran by with a wave.

“Hey Katia,” he said with a grin, “New client, huh?” Running on, he winked at a mortified Claire. She could feel the warmth in her derrière and pouted. No way she would be punished again, she firmly decided.

In fact, she was, but it was all worth it when, five weeks later, she stood resplendent before the priest and finally said “Yes”.

The maid

He had a little smile on his lips as he pounded her firm, round bottom with hard slaps. The constant rhythm of the spanking, her bouncy cheeks before his eyes, her little murmured moans, the silky panties under her old-fashion working outfit… He loved it all. The little, slender maid had only been working in the house for a few months, and already she had been dragged over his lap half a dozen times.

The vase she had broken this time was of no importance, really, it had been tacky and would easily be replaced. Nonetheless, he couldn’t pass up the opportunity to have her wiggle under his punitive attentions again. he wondered if she had done it on purpose. Did she enjoy it as much as he did ?

As he kept spanking her, her bottom turning a pale pink, then a darker red, then a bright crimson as he kept pouring spank after hard spank over it, he wondered still, not daring to ask.


With a final hard slap, he told her to get up and go stand in the corner of the room, by the wide window. He sat on the bed, admiring her round apple bottom, the bright colour of it, the marks he had left on it. Still he wondered. He got up and came closer, hesitantly, picking up another vase form a nearby buffet.

“I would have to punish you even harder if anything happened to this one,” he said, handing it to her. She got her hands off the top of her head and took it delicately. The maid looked him in the eyes, tears drying on her cheeks, leaving black mascara marks.

She let the vase go.


Isabelle pushed the door a quietly as she could and tiptoed inside the apartment, holding her high-heeled shoes with two fingers. She softly pushed the door back to a close and paused to listen. Silence.

With a smile, the young woman put her little shoes down and went to the kitchen ; she was starving. There was a bottle of wine on the counter, and she couldn’t resist pouring herself one last glass. It had been a fun night, and even though he would be a little irritated in the morning that she hadn’t come back in time for bed, she had enjoyed herself. Dancing, flirting, chatting, it had all been nice after so much rigour and work over the past weeks. One night out couldn’t hurt, exams of no exams. Plus she had a few more days.

The bottle slipped a little and she dripped wine on the counter. She did have quite a lot to drink, she thought, and giggled to herself. She raised the glass.

“To dancing and having fun and not caring at all,” she said with a smile.

The lights suddenly came on, white and harsh after the comforting darkness. She gasped and the glass fell to the floor, where it shattered, spilling the expensive wine on the dark-tiled floor. She looked at it with a pout, then up at the man who’d turned the light on and was glaring at her.

“Do you know what time it is?” he said coolly.

“Hum… Past bedtime?” she tried with a little grin. He didn’t look amused at all, his arms crossed over his chest.

“It’s 3 am, Isabelle. Where the heck were you?” he asked, his tone still ice-cold. He knew perfectly well where she had been. It wasn’t the first argument they’d had about her partying.

“I was having fun, okay?” she said with a shrug, “I’ve been working hard, you know that…”

She was still pouting.

“You made a promise, remember?” he said, coming closer. She hadn’t made a move to clean up the mess the wine had made ; she stood there with her back against the counter, looking at him through the thick mascara of her heavily shadowed eyes. The purple around them complemented her teal short dress beautifully indeed.

She looked down and bit her lip, “Yes, I remember…”

“What was it?”

She hesitated… “Listen…” she started, passing a hand in her long, chestnut hair.

“What was it, Isabelle?” he interrupted straight away.

“No partying… until my exams…” she said coyly.

He nodded, “So… Where were you tonight?”

“It was just one night, okay? Just one… Please…”

“You promised. You know you have to get up early tomorrow, there’s still a lot of things we need to go over. Don’t you care?”

“No I do…”

“Don’t you appreciate me helping?”

“You know that I do… I couldn’t—

“Exactly. You know you need to give it your best and yet… you’ve still been out. You can’t help yourself, can you?”

“You sound like my fucking dad, just stop it” she muttered.

“Language, Isabelle,” he warned, pointing a finger at her. She rolled her eyes.

“Are you done?” she asked, rapping her fingers on the counter and letting out an exasperated sigh.

He was on her in a heartbeat, grabbing her by her wrist and holding her. He was a good head taller than she was, and stronger for it. She tried to get her hand free but couldn’t.

“No, I’m not done,” he said harshly, “I’m quite fed up with your attitude, in fact” he continued, forcing her to turn around and face the kitchen counter. “Fed up with the partying, the lack of organisation, your messiness, brattiness…”

“Let me go!” she said. He forced her down on the counter. “What are you doing?!” she cried, louder.

“What I should have done a long time ago,” he answered, and slammed his hand down on her round bottom, barely hidden under her dress. The sound echoed loudly in the kitchen. Frozen by surprise, disbelief, and anger, she didn’t make a sound.

He slapped her again, harder, right on the same spot. She cried out this time, and tried to get away.

“Are you mad?” she yelled as he kept spanking her bottom one cheek after the other, hard, heavy smacks that made it bounce under the tight fabric. He didn’t answer, pinning her arm behind her back, forcing her to stay down on the counter while he peppered her cheeks with hard slaps.

The dry, loud sound drowned out her little yelps and gasps. It would wake the entire building up, she feared. And they kept coming, these slaps. Her bottom was already burning. She felt tears coming to her eyes, tears of pain, of shame, of humiliation. She was being treated like a child, a misbehaving brat. It hurt, it hurt, it hurt so bad and he kept going.

“Okay, okay,” she said, her voice cracking a little, “you’ve made your point!”

“Have I really?” he said finally, landing a couple more hard smacks, “I think I’m just getting started…”

“What? No…” The tears were filling up her eyes now. He grabbed the bottom of her dress and raised it up to her hips, revealing her burning, bright pink behind framed in a plain, white thong. She bit her lips, not wanting to make things worse. He let go of her arm.

“Stay there,” he said sternly. She did.

He reached over the counter for a wooden spoon in a pot among other kitchen utensils. She shivered, it looked mean and she did not want to have it strike her exposed bottom. Not that she had any say in the matter. He put it against her warm cheeks and tapped them softly a few time. Tears rolled down her face. Then he raised the wooden spoon high and it came down with a sharp whistling sound. Pain exploded in her punished bottom and she cried out, “Oooooooow!”

He quickly whipped her cheeks a few times, eliciting a cry of pain each time, then switched cheek for a few more, and kept hitting her bottom harder and harder, leaving dark red marks over the pink.

She was crying more and more, wiggling her bottom, trying to cover it with her hands only to be chased away and rewarded with even harder smacks for trying.

Her thong came off despite her protestations, and soon, so did the dress. She was naked, crying like a little brat that she knew she was, and he kept spanking her.


She was begging, pleading, asking, promising to be good, to behave, to work hard. She promised everything he wanted as long as he just stopped spanking her. He didn’t. She was completely exposed to him, every inch of her body. Where her bottom had been pink, it was now a deep red. He threw the spoon down on the counter and came back at her punished cheeks with his large, square-palmed hands.

“No.” *smack!* “More.” *smack!* “Partying” *smack!* he said, the slaps a hard punctuation to each word.

“Noooo… no, I promise… Please, please, pleaaaaase…” she begged. “I’ll be good. I’ll be good, I’m so sorry.”

“Will you work hard?” he asked, spanking her still.

“Yes, yes, yesss, I will, I promise, I will!”

“What will happen if you don’t?”

“I’ll get punished!” she said, bawling, “You’ll spank me again.”

“Exactly, and it will be even harsher.” She doubted it ever could be worse than the burning she was feeling in her cheeks. She wouldn’t be able to sit down for a week.

He stopped.

“Stay here, hands on the counter,” he said ominously and left. She got up, her legs trembling, and put her hand down on it as instructed. The tears kept streaming out of her eyes and she sobbed as silently as she could. She could feel the warmth between her legs, not just her bottom, and she felt ashamed. She dared not look or feel it, but she knew she was drenched. He came back, and she felt his fingers between her thighs. Had he read her mind? Was it so obvious that… She didn’t want to think about it.

“Well, Isabelle,” he said calmly, “I think you need a little time to think about your behaviour” His fingers went up from her vulva and caressed her anus.

“Wha… what are you doing…” she gasped… He had never touched her there before. She felt something cold on her. Was it… Suddenly, something massive went up her ass, and she moaned loudly, “Oh God…!”

“Punished and plugged, like the misbehaving young girl that you are,” he announced with a grin and she realised he had been planning that moment, knowing that sooner or later she would slip up and he would have an opportunity to punish her as he desired. She felt her swollen pussy drip over her thighs. She wanted to beg him to take her right there, right then. She knew he would have her wait. She felt the plug filling her, making her moan with the slightest move of her hips. The pain and pleasure merged into one and she bit her lip again.

She would be good… tomorrow.