While the Cat’s Away…

“Unacceptable!” Madame Clairmont muttered as her hand came down on her maid’s already reddened bottom.

“Just unacceptable!” she said again, her ire making her slaps all the harder.

“Nein! Madame, please!” Belinda pleaded, tears rolling down her blushing cheeks.

The stern older woman kept repeating the same word, like a mantra, marking every syllable with a heavy slap.

“Un- *SMACK!* ac- *SMACK!* cept- *SMACK!* ta- *SMACK!* ble!”

Older or not, Madame’s hand didn’t seem to tire, and Belinda kept clenching and unclenching her buttocks, moaning in pain, begging for mercy.

*SMACK!* *SMACK!* *SMACK!* *SMACK!* *SMACK!* it continued.

It had all started when Madame Clairmont had left that morning, leaving Belinda, her German maid, to do her usual cleaning of the house. As she did every morning, Belinda had opened the windows to let the fresh morning air in. Suddenly, a cat had jumped through the window, and proceeded to run straight for the kitchen. “Was zur Hölle!” exclaimed the young, surprised Belinda, and she ran after it.  As she did so, her feather-duster hit Madame’s jewellery stand and the precious earrings and necklaces fell on the floor. As she paused to try and pick some off the floor, she heard a loud crash in the living room. She hurried herself there, only to find a vase in pieces on the floor. Oh Scheiße… she thought and went after the cat.

It had reached the kitchen, making straight for the work surface where food lay, ready to be prepared. The fresh fish seemed to be of particular interest to the kitty, and, having grabbed one, it jumped back towards the living room, passing between Belinda’s legs. She turned around only to see the cat dragging the wet, smelly fish all over the dense, expensive carpet. Ach du heilige Scheiße!

“Komm hierher!” she called the cat, who let the fish fall down on the carpet in a wet splosh to meow at her. Just as she thought she might catch the elusive intruder, it run away again, and in her hurry, Belinda slipped on the fish. She fell down and crashed into the coffee table, sending the ashtray that was on it to the ground. Of course, she hadn’t emptied it yet. Madame tended to smoke a few cigarettes in the morning, she knew. It was now all over the fishy carpet. Das kann doch nicht wahr sein!!!

The accursed Katze meowed again, as if mocking her, and she got up, her vengeful feather-duster held high. Finally, she managed to chase the cat out the window it had come in. As she caught her breath, trying to process what had just happened, she heard the unmistakable click of the front door opening. She closed her eyes. Surely, this was all a bad dream.

“OH MON DIEU!” she heard Madame Clairmont say, and then a loud “BELINDA!”

Before she could offer an explanation, stammering as she was in a mix of German and French, Madame had pulled her over her lap, pulled her skirt up and started raining hard slaps on her quivering bottom. The small thong that she was wearing didn’t afford her any protection, and she felt Madame’s anger in full. “Unacceptable, Belinda,” Madame Clairmont was saying in her thick French accent, “Totally unacceptable!”

And the slaps came, and came, and came again. Belinda was crying, begging, still trying to explain what had happened as her bottom turned from pink to red to dark, throbbing crimson. As more slaps came down, she could swear she heard a mocking meow in the background.


Why do I love you even more when tears roll down your face?

Why does your pain make me feel good?

Why do you look so beautiful when you’re begging for mercy?

Why, my love, did you choose me?

Why do I love you even more when you make me cry?

Why does my pain make me feel so good?

Why do you look so beautiful when you are merciless?

Why, my love, did you choose me?

A bet is a bet

The ping-pong ball landed in the cup.

“Whoohoo! I won!” Juliette announced triumphantly.

“Oh come on…” Nina answered, dejected.

“A bet’s a bet!” the winner said gleefully.

“I guess…” Nina said, looking away.

“What? Are you going to pussy out?” Juliette grinned.

“You won, can’t that be enough?” pouted Nina.

“Well you would say that…” Juliette said, crossing her arms over her ample chest.

Juliette looked around at the twenty-odd people having fun and drinking in the living room.

“Come on, please… You’re not really going to… spank me, are you?”

“Oh I definitely am! You lost the bet! No backsies,” said Juliette.

“Nobody likes a gloater…”

“Or someone who chickens out…” Another grin.

Nina blushed, looking down.

“Fine… Can we at least do it… Privately?” she asked, timid.

“Well, then I get an extra.” Juliette said after a pause.

“What sort of extra?”

“No panties!”


“You heard me.”


“Or we can do it here in front of everyone, I don’t mind!” Juliette said, her hand firmly planted on her wide hips.

Nina looked around again. She was wearing a short skirt, a little crop top… Why had she chosen to wear stockings underneath it tonight? Sure, there was a chance that she would get in bed with Tom, but still, it was turning out to be a bad decision. Then again, so was taking that stupid bet. Bad decisions were her specialty lately, it seemed. She looked up at Juliette, who was preparing to make a scene and alert everyone.

“Fine, fine! Let’s go to the bedroom…”

With a wide smile, Juliette took Nina’s hand and let her guide her upstairs. Juliette, if she was honest with herself, had had her eyes on sweet little Nina for a while. She was exactly the type of girl she liked, a little shy, but with a wilder side underneath the bookish veneer. Well, that and her cute round ass, of course. They got to the bedroom, and she closed the door behind them.

Giggling slightly, Juliette pulled the chair from under the desk and sat on it. Nina was looking at the floor, a finger to her lips.

“Well?” asked Juliette.

“Well what?”

“I can’t see any panties on that floor…”

Biting her lip, Nina slid her hands under her skirt, and slowly pulled her panties all the way down her long legs. She hooped it over her heels and held it in her hand, unsure of what to do with them. Juliette whistled.

“Nice! The boys downstairs would have liked that!”

Nina said nothing. She bit her lip.

“You coming?”

Nina nodded and came to rest over Juliette’s lap, throwing the panties on the bed. She was shaking slightly. Juliette didn’t wait a minute to pull her skirt up, revealing that ass that she’d been eyeing all semester. The garters framing it made it all the cuter. She purred.

“It won’t be that bad, you’ll see!”

“Easy for you to say!”

Juliette laughed, and her hand fell on Nina’s bottom with a sharp *SMACK!* The poor girl moaned a little cry, and the hand fell down again. She clenched her buttocks, vainly trying to soften the blows that kept coming and coming. Juliette peppered her round ass with slaps, randomly hitting right, left and centre. Nina kicked her legs, trying to escape, but the other girl was holding her firmly.

The slaps got harder, they got faster. It hurt. It burned. *Smack! Smack! Smack! Smack! Smack! Smack! Smack! Smack!* Juliette’s hand was relentless.

“That’s enough! That’s enough!” she cried, tears starting to roll down her cheeks.

“Do you want me to invite people in to watch?” Juliette said, sternly.

Nina moaned a litte, pitiful “No…” and finally resigned herself to the pain. As her tears flowed freely, she stopped kicking, stopped resisting, and found that… she enjoyed it. The tension leaved her shoulders with every slap. She blocked the world outside. There was only that bedroom, Juliette’s lap, her bottom exposed and sore. She could feel a ball of warmth in her stomach, and suddenly realised that she was very wet, in full view of Juliette. She didn’t even care. She moaned again, not in pain but in pleasure. She noticed that Juliette was taking more and more pauses to caress and massage her burning ass. She reached back to guide the other girl’s hand down between her legs.

Maybe that bet hadn’t been such a bad decision after all. Maybe she had just won.


Le portable vibre. Un message de Julie

+Tu fais quoi?+

Il tapotte: +Je travaille..+



+M’ennuie… :(+

+Julie, je travaille+

Cinq minutes passent.

+Me fais suer… T-T+

+T pas en formation?+

+Si… M’ennuie :((+

+Écoute et participe, ça passera plus vite+

+Mais c pas intéressant+


+M’ennuie… D:+

Il ne répond pas.

+tu fais quoi?+

Il ne répond toujours pas

+T’es plus là? :'(+

+Julie! T’es en formation et je travaille! Stop+

+Bah oui mais je m’ennuie…+

+JULIE. Si tu m’écris ne serait-ce qu’un message de plus, c’est la brosse quand tu rentres et la soirée au coin.+

Six minutes passent.

+M’ennuie… ;)+

My Naughty Babysitter

My parents go out about once a week —their night they call it— and even though I’m a teenager and definitely old enough to take care of myself, they want someone to keep an eye on me and my younger sister, Judy. So once a week, Lucille comes to our house.

Lucille is a pretty cool babysitter, truth be told. She’s 19, not much older than I am (16), and she’s pretty cute. She lets me play games, and isn’t too strict with bedtimes and stuff for Judy. She even ordered pizza for us all one night! To be honest, I kinda look forward to her coming every week. I think about her, her hips, her small waist… She’s got a nice rack to, and a cute butt. As the weather gets warmer, she tends to be wearing shorts, skirts, hotpants… Yeah, I think about her a lot.

So last week, I was playing some game in my room when I thought I heard Lucille call. That was after Judy’s bedtime so I took my headphones off and called back. She didn’t answer but I could still hear her talking. Now, my parents are quite strict about her not having people over, or even being on the phone with her boyfriend, in case something happens to us. My parents are quite strict in general. So I got to the living room door and I could hear her more clearly. She was moaning, I peeked through the ajar door and saw that she was holding her phone up and caressing herself in front of it, playing with her boobs, making cute little faces. She passed a hand between her legs and let out another little moan. “Subscribe for more!” she said.

I opened the door suddenly and she jumped, crying “Oh my god!” and trying to put her phone away.

“Jack!” she said, “Hum… Are you okay?”

“I guess…” I said.

“Hum… Did you…”

“See that?”


“I guess I did…”

“I… It was nothing, don’t worry…” She looked embarrassed.

“It didn’t look like nothing…” I said.


“It looked like you were filming some OnlyFans vids in my parent’s living-room?”

“Are… aren’t you a little young to know what that is?” she said, half-defiantly.

“Hum, no, I’m 16… Believe me, I know…”

“Okay, well… Don’t…”

“Tell my parents?”


“I think they’d like to know…”

“No! Please! They’d never call me again!”

“And they’d probably tell your parents…”

“No! Just… Don’t tell them, okay? It was just a stupid video…”

“You know what they’d do to you if they knew you were doing that in their home?”


“You’d definitely get a spanking…”

“A what?”

“You know… A spanking? Over the knees…”

“I… I don’t…”

“Just saying…”

“What are you saying exactly, Jack?”

“I’m saying, Lucille, that if you don’t want me to tell, then you have to let me give you a spanking!”

“What? No!”

“Fair enough,” I shrugged, and took my phone out, “I’ll call them right now…”

“No! Wait!”

I held the phone up, my finger next to the ‘call’ icon. “Your choice…”

“Fine! Fine! Don’t tell them… My parents would kill me…”

With a grin, I pulled out a chair from the table and sat on it. She looked at me, paralysed. I could see a lot of things going through her head.

“Well?” I said “I can still call them if you prefer…”

“No!” she said, and came towards me. I indicated my lap and, blushing, she came down over it. She was wearing a pair of tight denim shorts over her round ass, and I could feel her chest pressing against my thigh. She was hot, and having her at my mercy made it even hotter. I’m sure she could feel what effect she was already having on me, but she said nothing. I patted her bottom a few time, getting a good feel of her round cheeks, then slapped her hard in the middle of her ass.

“Oww!” she cried, “Okay, are you done?”

“Are you kidding?” I said, “That was one slap!” To demonstrate, I gave her another, and another, and another. She tensed and I grabbed her waist a little more firmly. I kept slapping her bottom, feeling the rough fabric under my hand. She started kicking her legs a little, and protested wordlessly.

“Jack, please…” she said after a few dozen slaps. “You… You’ve had your fun!…”

“Oh I don’t think so… If you don’t want me to tell, then your shorts are coming down!”

“What? But… But…”

“I need to check that your ass is properly red” I said with a grin, and continued to spank her.

“No… Oww!”


“No, please…” she begged.

“I’m not asking you, I’m telling you.”


I stopped slapping and grabbed the waistband of her shorts, pulling them up tight against her crotch. “Unbutton these and come back down” I said, trying to sound as authoritarian as I could. It probably worked, because she didn’t protest anymore and gingerly pulled her shorts down, revealing a little skimpy white thong. We both blushed.

“I’m keeping that on,” she said, I nodded.

Not that it hid any of her gorgeous ass, to be fair, and it was already starting to get quite red. I held her back down and started spanking her again, harder this time, watching her cheeks bounce as she moaned and cried out. I spanked her down her thighs as well, making her yelp with pain. The more I spanked her round ass, the redder it became, until she really started crying and begging me to stop.

When I finally let her go, her ass was engraved in my memory forever. She rubbed it thoroughly in front of me, probably not even thinking about it, and pulled her shorts back up with a sniffle. She didn’t look at me, her gaze fixed on the floor.

“Your parents will be home soon,” she said.

“I’ll be in my room,” I said with a smile.

She nodded.

“Do you want me to subscribe to your OnlyFans, then?” I said with a wide grin.

She flipped me the bird, “Don’t push it, Jack!”

My parents never guessed what happened. In fact, Lucille is going to come back tomorrow night. I’m looking forward to it!

Naughty Teacher

As a Geography teacher newly appointed to the school, Jennifer had heard a few stories about the Principal’s firm hand. She had always thought that only applied to the students at the Academy, and she did value a clear, enforced behaviour policy. It just made the job easier. So when she was summoned to the Headmaster’s office, she thought nothing of it.

When she got in the office, he was sitting behind his large, oaken desk. Besides a monitor and keyboard, the desk was empty, save for a mean-looking, straight ratan cane. It was at that moment that she realised that she might be in trouble. She cleared her throat, uneasy.

“You wanted to see me?” she asked, timidly.

“Close the door, miss Hill,” was all he said.

“Certainly… What is this about?” she asked again, doing as she had been told.

He pointed to his screen.

“I’ve had very… Interesting emails from parents,” he said.

“Emails, Sir?”

“Emails, pictures.”

“I don’t follow…”

The headmaster pivoted his screen around to show her exactly what he meant. On the screen was a single picture. She blushed and murmured a small oh my God as she covered her mouth in horror.

It was a picture of herself, in her classroom, bending over to pick a fallen pen off the ground. Not only was her skirt riding up, it was plain to see that she wasn’t wearing any underwear.

“I don’t think I need to tell you how unacceptable that is, miss Hill?”

“Oh, no, Sir, I… I never meant…”

“To expose yourself to a class of young, impressionable teenagers?”

“I… I am so sorry, I don’t know how that happened…”

“You don’t know how you came to work with no underwear on?”


“Well?” he snapped.

“It’s more comfortable, Sir…”

He shook his head.

“Well, as you can imagine, parents are less than impressed, and I have many calling for your immediate dismissal, at least.”

“Oh no! Please, sir! It was an accident! I… I would never…”

“As much as I would like to believe that, I think you know I can’t let this go without consequences.”

She looked down at the cane. She felt dread running down her spine.

“Consequences, sir…?”

“I’m sure you’re well aware of the kind of punishments that we apply at this school.”

“Yes, sir…”

“I think you can agree that we can’t have a lower standard for our teachers than we do for our students.”

“No sir but…”

“I would consider your objections carefully, miss Hill. You are on thin ice as it is.”

She looked down, her cheeks crimson with embarrassment. She said nothing.

“There, much better,” he said. “Now, miss Hill, are you wearing any today?”

“What, sir?”

“Underwear, miss Hill! Underwear!”

She bit her lip and looked away. He threw his arms up in despair.

“Well I would say that shows the absolute need for discipline! Get your skirt down, right this instant.”

“Sir… Please…”

“Would you rather I invited the board of Governors and some parents to attend?”

“No, no! Please!”

“Your skirt, young lady.”

“Y-yes, sir…”

She slowly, awkwardly pulled her skirt down and crossed her hands in front of her, exposed and ashamed.

He walked up to her.

“Since you like to expose yourself, I think we should go one step further.” He grabbed her shirt and ripped it open, exposing her large, round breasts. She whimpered, tears in her eyes.

“Go bend over the desk!” he barked, and she did so.

Her legs quivered as he took the cane and whipped it a few times through the air. The noise was already terrifying. She closed her eyes. He applied the cane to her behind and tapped her naked cheeks a few times.

Then she screamed.

And she screamed.

And she screamed again.

Without a thought for who could hear, the secretary, any waiting parent or teacher, she screamed.

She screamed and she cried heavy, ugly tears.

She screamed and she begged.

She screamed and she sobbed loudly.

She screamed and trembled, arching her back.

She screamed and kicked her feet, gritted her teeth, screwed her eyes shut.

She screamed and prayed for it to just end.

And it did. Ten strokes, that was all it had taken to reduce her to a trembling, begging, sniffling mess. The headmaster grabbed her arm and, without a word, lead her to the corner of his office.

“Arms behind your back,” he said matter-of-factly.

She did as he commanded. He adjusted her hands and rested the cane over her half-bent fingers. She was still quietly sobbing and said nothing.

“Now, miss Hill… Do you think my word that you have been properly disciplined will be enough for the parents, or will they need photographic evidence as well?”


As I was finishing this commision for a client, I was looking through a dictionary of the Monachi language, spoken by the Native American Mon people that live in the Southern Sierra Nevada (yes, that is quite random, but I love learning about other languages).

Here are some words you should know 😉

cete or pihqo are buttocks

the clitoris is a kwyky

a pretty girl is a syjatyhmy

tyni’ is a master

pata-kwini means naked

hawa means to scold

And here’s an alternate version of the picture ^^


«–Mais c’est pas juste!

–Comment ça, «pas juste» ? Tu m’as menti oui ou non?

–Ben oui…

–Dit-elle, comme une évidence…

–Rhoo ça va…

–Ben non, ça va pas !

–Mais c’était pas important, j’voulais pas que tu t’inquiètes…

–Ah bah ça va être de ma faute, en plus ?

–Ben techniquement…

–Je rêve… Et puis c’est même pas la question.

–Ah non ?

–Non, la question c’est une question de principe.

–Ça fait deux fois question.

–Quoi ?

–C’est pas très joli. Enfin moi je dis ça, j’dis rien. Tu disais ? Des vacances en Martinique ?

–De quoi ?

–Ben l’an prochain, les vacances ?

–Elle se croit fine…

–Quoi ? Tu insinues que j’ai pris du poids ? Franchement, tu ne manques pas de culot…


–Quoi, c’est vrai…

–Stop. J’en ai marre de tes âneries, là. Tu m’as menti, et tu sais que j’ai horreur de ça.

–Oui mais…

–Pas de mais.

–Mais bêtise, paf, fessée, c’est trop simple. Je préfère te faire tourner en bourrique ; c’est bien plus drôle.

–T’as fini ?

–Pas vraiment mais je sens que je ferais mieux de me taire.

–Et ?

–D’aller chercher la brosse…

–Puis ?

–De venir sur tes genoux…

–Tu vois, simple, j’aime bien.

–Et si je te dis que la brosse est cassée ?

–Julie… Les mensonges, c’est non.

–Mais c’est qu’un tout p’tit mensonge…

–Et c’est la même punition…

-Tu vois, j’l’avais bien dit. C’est pas juste !»


Ce n’est pas la fessée qui fait mal.

C’est la froideur de ta voix.

C’est la tristesse dans ton regard.

C’est ton haussement d’épaules.

C’est le secouement de ta tête.

Ce sont tes bras qui ne consolent pas.

Ce sont tes baisers qui ne viennent pas.

Ce n’est pas la fessée qui fait mal.

C’est de t’avoir encore déçu.