Horoscope

“Is it… Is it really necessary, Sir?” Ryleigh asked, her panties only slightly pulled down, the elastic band taught in her fingers.

“Down they go, Ryleigh,” he said firmly. Mr Wright was not in the habit of repeating himself.

“But it’s so… humiliating,” she pleaded, “I’m in my underwear already, surely that is—”

“Did I ask for an opinion, or did I ask you to take your panties off, young lady?” came the reply, cutting her short.

“Yes, Sir,” she mouthed, and she felt the caress of the fabric on her long, shapely legs as the panties fell to the floor. Despite her embarrassment —or was it because of it? — she shivered.

Without another word, he indicated his lap and, blushing red, she shuffled towards him and her impending punishment. “This can’t be happening”, she thought. And yet, it was. A spanking, she was going to get a spanking like a misbehaving child, her bottom bared for her boss to see and punish as he saw fit.

This was not how she had pictured the day going. In fact, according to the horoscope that she was reading with her breakfast that morning, it was going to be “a day to try new things”. That had sounded exciting then! On her way to work, she had decided to take that advice to heart and instead of her usual black coffee, no sugar, no milk, thank you very much, she had even ordered a fancy, multisyllabic, sort-of-Italian-sounding monstrosity of a drink. Sipping on the surprisingly tasty sugary drink, she had wondered what else she might discover she liked that day.

The morning had been her usual mix of boring admin and exciting gossip with Samantha, who always had the tea to spill. Mr Wright had fired his assistant; she had told him. Apparently, said assistant had made a mess of a big client’s account, and Mr Wright had had to spend two days patching things up. But that was not the juicy part! According to Samantha —who had a reputation for embellishing the truth for dramatic effect, in all fairness—, Mr Wright had given her assistant a choice: being fired on the spot, and possibly sued by the company, or receiving a punishment and being let go with a generous severance package. Giggling like a schoolgirl at a sleepover, Ryleigh had asked Samantha what she meant by “a punishment”, to which the latter had answered, lowering her voice conspiratorially, “A big ol’ fashioned spanking!”

Ryleigh had laughed out loud at the absurdity. Samantha really had a wild imagination, but she was good fun.

Later that day, a company-wide email had been sent, advertising the position of Mr Wright’s assistant. It came with quite a few benefits, flexible hours, and a big pay increase. Ryleigh remembered the horoscope. “A day to try new things.” Maybe that was the opportunity she had been waiting for? After all, there was nothing to lose. Gathering her courage, she had gone and knocked on Mr Wright’s door.

She estimated that he was in his early 40s, with dark hair just starting to turn grey. Tall, athletic, she had never seen him in anything but smart clothes, even on casual Fridays. Mr Wright was someone who took pride in his work, and who expected a lot of those under him. Samantha had told her that she had tried to invite him on a date —such a Samantha thing to do—, but he had told her that he had, quote, “no time for dating.” Not that that had stopped Samantha trying again several times, but to no avail.

“Ah, Ryleigh, is it?” Mr Wright had said as he opened the door to his office to let her in. She had been pleasantly surprised that he even knew who she was. “Yes, Sir,” she’d said, feeling like a schoolgirl in front of a headmaster. “I would like to apply for the position…”

“Of course, of course”, he’d said, sitting down behind his impeccably kept desk. In fact, the entire office was tidy. There was not a scrap of paper out of place, the books on the shelves were organised alphabetically, the plants symmetrically arranged on the windowsill. “Well,” he continued, “we can certainly give it a go today and see how it goes. But I have to warn you: I have high expectations. If you are not prepared to give this your all, then I would not bother trying.”

She had nodded, “Of course, Sir, I wouldn’t expect anything else!”

“I can assume you have read the job description and all its conditions?” he asked.

“Yes of course.” She hadn’t, really, not all of it. It was a PA job, nothing too novel, and the tasks and duties were the normal fare. Or so she had thought.

“Perfect, let’s sign your contract and you can begin your trial period, shall we?”

And just like that, she had become Mr Wright’s assistant. That had been four hours previously.

The memories still rushing through her mind, she lowered herself onto his lap, trying to ignore the shame, the mere idea that she was laying over her boss’ lap, her bare bottom on display… All that she was wearing now were a pair of high heels and her bra. Her skirt and blouse were on the desk, neatly folded. Her panties were still on the floor where they had fallen off her legs. Somehow, it was worse than being naked. She shivered again. His hand felt warm against her waist where he held her in place. She could smell his cologne, and she caught herself thinking that it smelled quite nice, like Samantha had said it did. “What the hell is wrong with me?” she thought, “Of all the things to be thinking of…”

Her train of thought was immediately interrupted as his other hand tapped her perky bottom a few times, surprisingly gentle. “Was that it, then? Had it all been a big joke to see how far she would go? That was quite—” His hand slammed into her bottom, and she let out a loud cry. The pain was as immediate as it was searing.  Without giving her time to catch her breath, another slap came down, targeting her other cheek, then came another, and another, and one more, relentless, heavy, painful slaps that made her kick her legs and brought tears to her eyes.

The new job had started easily. Her task had been to get acquainted with the accounts that her new boss was handling personally. Ryleigh an eye for detail, numbers, facts, and she was eager to please. Within the hour, she had written a memo detailing the most important aspects of each client, and he had praised her on her diligence. She had even found an error that the previous assistant, Clara, had made. He had muttered something about Clara getting off easy, but she had not dared enquire further. Ryleigh was positively glowing. This was going to be a great career move; she was sure of it. Then things had started to get more complex, and she had made a few mistakes. Nothing big: typos, files in the wrong folder, or in the wrong order. Mr Wright hadn’t said anything bad to her then, but simply tutted as he had rearranged the pages or pointed the mistakes. Blushing, she had made all the changes immediately, of course. Thinking back, the blushing had been foreshadowing, it seemed. From then, it had only gotten more complex, and she found herself struggling to keep up with the amount of detail that she was expected to remember. But all would have been fine if not for the email. The one email that clearly said “confidential”, the same email that had now been forwarded to the company’s entire mailing-list. The problem with working for people high up at a company was that mistakes came with a lot more consequences, as she had been about to painfully find out.

The moment the send confirmation sound had pinged off the computer, she had known that she was in trouble. Blushing still, head bowed and eyes wet with incoming tears, she had knocked softly on Mr Wright’s door. He hadn’t raised his voice. He hadn’t needed to. She knew that she was going to be fired, that was clear. Not even half a day into the job, and she had made the biggest blunder of her career.

“You know what your contract says,” he had said, an affirmation rather than a question.

“A-about termination?” she had said, sheepishly.

“About dealing with grave misconduct or severe mistakes.”

“I…” she had hesitated, “I don’t…”

“Let’s have a look again, shall we?”

And there it was, black on white, with her signature right underneath: “In case of gross negligence, the employee acknowledges that they will submit themselves to corporal punishment, namely one (1) bare bottomed spanking taken over the knees of their direct line manager.”

Her eyes had widened as she had read and re-read the passage several times. It couldn’t be true. And yet, that was the contract that she had signed. She had swallowed, not daring to look Mr Wright in the eyes, and thought of Samantha’s silly gossip. Not so silly after all…

“I think that is pretty clear, yes?” he had asked.

“I-I…” she had stammered.

“To be clear, you are not being fired, miss Collins.”

“I… I’m not?”

“No, but you understand that mistakes must have consequences.”

“Yes but… A spanking, Sir?”

“A time-tested method, absolutely.”

“But Sir…”

“It’s your career and your reputation on the line, Ryleigh. I would rather shoulder the responsibility for that mistake and keep you as my assistant, but I cannot tolerate mistakes going unpunished.”

“Is that… Is that what happened to Clara? Did she choose not to be punished like… that?”

“Clara was… How could I put it… Clara kept a tube of soothing cream in her desk drawer.”

“For…”

“For her bottom, yes… That’s how often it had to happen. I do not think you will need it quite as much…”

“I…”

“Unless you’d rather walk out the door and pack your things, that is entirely up to you…”

“No I…”

A day to try new things, the horoscope had said. That was all bollocks, right? Stars didn’t really control anything… And yet, here she was, pondering whether a spanking was so bad after all…

Without a word, she had nodded.

“Right!” he had said, slapping his thigh and getting up from behind the desk. “Your skirt and blouse, if you please,” he had continued.

“Ex-excuse me?” she had stuttered, getting more flustered by the minute.

“It’s standard procedure… Blouse and skirt off.”

She hadn’t even thought of protesting further. She had already accepted her fate, what more was that now? With trembling fingers, she had unbuttoned her blouse, and folded it on the desk. Her pencil skirt had been next, and within a minute, she was standing in her underwear in front of Mr Wright, her boss. “What would Sam give to be in that position?” she thought. It almost made her grin. Almost.

Then he had said it. “Your panties too, Ryleigh. It’s a bare bottomed spanking.”

“Is it… Is it really necessary, Sir?”

The slaps kept coming and coming. The tears were freely rolling down her blushing cheeks now, and the burn form her bottom was overwhelming all her senses. Seeing that the only effect kicking her legs had had was to make him spank her harder, she had stopped struggling within minutes of the spanking starting, and had now fully submitted herself to his discipline.

“I expect you to learn from this!” he was saying, and in her mind, she was answering “Yes! Yes, I will!” But all that came out of her mouth were sobs and little cries of pain. She couldn’t see, but she imagined her bottom was crimson by now. She didn’t think she would be able to sit in days.

“With Clara, I had to resort to using a wooden paddle…” he continued, half-comment, half-warning.

She couldn’t even imagine what that would be like. That alone had her promise herself to never have a slip-up that bad again. There were mysteries that were best left alone, and the feeling of a paddle on her bare cheeks was definitely one of them.

After a few more interminable minutes of agony, shame, tears and a good deal of pleading for it to stop, Mr Wright finally did so. She didn’t dare get up, in case he was just taking a break, but a few gentle taps gave her the go-ahead. She got herself up, then let him guide her to the corner of his office were she naturally found herself, hands on her head. Despite never having been punished before, it had seemed like a natural continuation to the punishment. A moment to reflect and gather herself while her bottom cooled. As she would later discover, Clara had left her cream in the desk, a fact that she would be forever thankful for.

Years later, and after many more spankings of varying intensity over Mr Wright’s lap, Ryleigh found herself in the corner once again, and randomly thought back to that silly horoscope, on that fateful day. A day to try new things, it had said, and, thinking about it, it was probably the best advice she’d ever gotten.

Last time, mom!

Melany had had enough. It just had to stop, and it would stop tonight. She had spent an hour or so getting ready, putting her makeup on, straightening her long, dark hair, changing her outfit three times before settling on the first one that she had tried. The usual. She hadn’t been out in ages and she was intending on having fun. What she was not intending on was her mum coming along for the ride. Again.

It had started in the summer. Her parents had gotten divorced (for the best, really), and her mum had needed a chance of place (her words). Therefore, she had decided to join her daughter Melany in California, where the young brunette was attending college. At first, Melany had been quite happy to have her mum around, as Michigan was too far for regular visits. Her mum worked from home, and she offered to move in together, even do her laundry like when she was still living at home in the Great Lake State. It was cute, and the two had always gotten along. So Melany had said yes.

Then her mum had started feeling lonely. To Melany’s horror, she had downloader Tinder, and even gone on a few dates. Thankfully, none that had gone so well that she’d brought a man to their cosy flat. But the thought made Melany shiver. Still, she was supportive. Her mum deserved to be happy, that wasn’t the issue. No, the issues had started when Sheila —her mum— had suggested they go out together.

“You want to go have diner some place?” Melany had asked.

“No, go out out,” her mum had answered.

And so they’d done just that. Once, twice, five times. Now every time Melany got herself ready, her mum ran to the bathroom and started doing the same. Not only that, her mum partied hard. After a few weeks, she was already getting a reputation, and not a particularly good one. The shots of tequila and the borderline grinding on boys at the club had forced Melany to drag her mum home the last time they’d been out.

So tonight, it would stop.

Melany admired herself one last time in the mirror —long legs clad in a short skirt, hair and eyebrows on fleek, revealing but-not-too-revealing top, she was ready for a fun night. She stepped out of her bedroom. Her mother was in the corridor, putting her heels on. She was wearing a short dress that was way too tight for Melany’s comfort. To be fair to her mother, Sheila had kept herself in shape, and was a beautiful woman still. The milf jokes in college had been relentless.

“Mom…” Melany started.

“Oh please, sweetie! I know you said last time that I embarrassed you, but I promise I will be on my best behavior tonight!”

“Mom… I love you, but maybe I could have one night out on my own, for a change?”

“Oh but sweetie, I got myself all pretty and…”

Melany sighed.

“I’m not dragging you out of the club again!” she said,

“No no, I promise! Best behavior, nothing embarrassing,” her mum replied.

Melany pouted.

“You remember what would happen when I misbehaved as a kid?” she asked, innocently.

“When bratty Melany came out?” her mother said with a smile.

“Yeah, that…”

“Well, I…” her mum stuttered

“You spanked me, right?”

“Well, hum, yes…”

“So, if you don’t behave tonight…”

“Oh, you can’t possibly mean…” Sheila said, blushing.

Melany crossed her arms.

“Either you agree to it or I’m going alone.”

It was Sheila’s turn to pout, blushing hard.

“I’m not going to embarrass you…” she started.

“Mom! Promise me,” the young girl insisted.

“I promise!”

“And if you do embarrass me?” asked Melany again.

“Then… you can s-spank me…” her mum stammered, a nervous finger on her lips.

Melany nodded, “I’ll hold you to it!” she said, then went to the door, and they both left for the club.

Not two hours later, the door opened again, and a furious Melany was dragging her mother in by the wrist.

“But sweeeetie!” the older woman was saying, “It was just a couple shots and…”

“You were GRABBING his BUTT in middle of the dancefloor, MOM!” Melany yelled.

“Well, it was quite firm, really…”

“Mom, you’re drunk!”

“Oh, maybe, but it’s so fun!”

“That guy is in my class, mom!”

“Well, you didn’t tell me they had nice asses in your class, you know!”

“MOM!”

“Whaaat?” Sheila asked, smiling.

“You remember what we said, right?”

“About what?”

“About you embarrassing me again!”

“Oh that… You didn’t really mean it, sweetie, did you?”

“Oh, didn’t I?” Melany said with a glare.

“You wouldn’t spank your own mother…” Sheila said, shaking her head with a grin. “Now if that boy was to put me over his knees…”

“MOM!” Melany yelled again, and still holding her mum’s wrist, she pulled a chair. Sitting down, she forced the older woman over her lap. Drunk as she was, it took Sheila until the first slap landed on her firm behind to realise what was going on.

“Oww!” she cried out, “Melany? What are you doing?”

“What I should have done a while ago,” her daughter said, landing five slaps in quick succession on her mother’s rear. The woman wriggled her bottom, trying to escape or avoid the heavy slaps somehow, but Melany was holding her firmly in place, and slap after hard slap landed with only the thin fabric of the dress and panties to shield her bottom.

After twenty more, Sheila was feeling the warmth growing in her behind. “All right, okay!” she cried out, “You’ve made your point! I’ll be good.”

“Really, mom?” Melany frowned. “I think I remember my spankings being a lot more bare.”

“Y-yes but…”

“Oh no ifs or buts, mom,” said her daughter with a vicious grin. How she had dreamed of this as a teenager when her mum pulled her over her lap. This was payback, she thought, for spanking her in front of her friends that one time. The dress came up, and her hand fell down hard again, and again, and again. By then, her mother was clearly sobering up, and feeling the pain and humiliation much more clearly. The amused comments became little cried, became pleas, became tears.

“All right! I’m sorry! Melany, please…”

The pink cheeks were turning red, much to Melany’s delight, but she wasn’t done yet. The panties were still covering most of her mother’s round, toned bottom, and there was no way they would stay up. “If you’re really sorry, you’ll agree that your panties must come down as well, right?” she asked.

Her mother gasped. “No, please…” she said, “this is so humiliating already…”

“Oh is it?” Melany said with a frown, “And you think my mom groping boys in the club in front of me isn’t?”

“Melany, sweetie…”

“Men your own age from now on, Mom!”

“Yes, sweetie…”

“And don’t even think about bringing one in here!”

“Y-yes, sweetie” her mother sobbed.

“Am I taking your panties down?”

“I…”

“Do you deserve a good, bare bottom spanking?”

Sheila didn’t answer but didn’t protest further when her daughter grabbed her panties’ waist band and lowered them to mid-thigh. From then on, there was nothing but raw pain and the sound of hard slaps filling the room, punctuated by Sheila’s sobs and sniffles. She knew her daughter and how she always achieved what she set her mind to. This spanking was going to end when Melany decided it would, and not a second before. Sheila’s bottom and thighs were burning, probably bright red by now, and she wondered if she would be able to sit at all come the morning. At the very least, she would be sleeping on her side tonight, she knew.

Still, she thought, that boy in the club had had one hell of a cute ass.

Asking for it

I’m not saying that she was asking for it, but as I closed the door to our tiny apartment, she was lying over the back of the sofa, her tight skirt-clad bottom gently swaying up in the air, enticing me, beckoning me over. Next to her, precariously balanced on the back of the sofa was a hairbrush, a silicon spatula and a belt, waiting for me. From the tightness of her skirt, I could see that she wasn’t wearing any underwear. She didn’t say a word and shook her bottom a little more, as if a taunt.

Not one to go against her wishes, I uncuffed my shirt and rolled up its sleeves. I appreciate comfort, you see, and I didn’t want to give her a subpar performance. After all, she had gone through all that trouble to… lie around waiting for me, I guess. There probably were a hundred reasons for her to deserve a spanking, and, truthfully, I didn’t really need to know which one had brought that about right then and there.

Instead, I put the tip of my fingers in the small of her back, and felt her shiver. A small moan escaped from her lips, and I noticed that she was wearing a blindfold. One hand still on her back, the other slid across the skirt and cupped her round cheeks. She shook her bottom a little more, pushing it into my hand. I went down to her thighs and caressed them, seemingly at random, losing my hand between them. Her breathing was getting harder already, and she spread her legs a little.

Bending down, I laid a soft kiss on her right cheek, then immediately followed with a hard slap that pushed her hard against the back of our sofa. She cried out, but said nothing more. I spanked her left cheek just as hard, and she pressed herself against the sofa again. She raised her bottom up, tiptoeing in her heels, wordlessly begging for more. Being a gentleman, I obliged.

Slap after slap, she cried and moaned and heaved. At some point, her skirt had come up, revealing that I had indeed been right and that no underwear was to be found underneath it. Her pearly white cheeks had gone to pink, to red, to bright, deep crimson. I could see that her blindfold was getting wet, and that she was biting her lips not to cry harder. Between her thighs, the pearling wetness was an invitation and I couldn’t help but slide my fingers over it, caressing, probing, and teasing her. She pressed her legs shut and pushed her bottom out. Clearly, it wasn’t time for that yet. I grabbed the hairbrush.

Later, finally satisfied, she ripped the blindfold off, panting. On trembling legs, she got up. Without looking at me, she started walking towards our bedroom. Then, looking back over her shoulders and with her tongue licking her lips, she asked:

“Well? Is that all you’ve got?”

Rien de rien

« T’abuses…

— Moi j’abuse ?

—Voui…

—Et en quoi, s’il te plait ?

—Euh, mes fesses ? 

—Oui, et ?

—Et tes mains qui les tapent, mes fesses !

—Je vois toujours pas en quoi j’abuse ?

—J’ai rien fait !

—Ah oui ?

—Rien…

—Ah bah c’est un comble… 

—Bah oui, hein… Cette fessée, là, c’est de l’abus !

—Mmmhm… »

Sa main s’abat une fois de plus sur la croupe déjà rougie de la demoiselle.

« Mais arrête ! 

—De ?

—De me fesser !

—Non.

—Mais… !

—Mais rien du tout, Julie. »

Une autre claque, plus forte.

« Mais si ! Arrête ! J’ai rien fait !

—On est d’accord.

—Tu te fiches de moi, Thomas ??

—Ah non, je te prends très au sérieux, ma chérie… »

Il attrape sa culotte et la baisse en deux mouvements secs qui font rebondir les petites fesses de sa victime. Elle s’agite et remue, ce qui ne fait qu’amplifier le spectacle qu’il apprécie. Il la fesse de nouveau, à pleine main, laissant une marque brûlante. Elle gémit.

« Maaaais ! C’est pas juuuuste ! 

—Tu n’as rien fait, oui oui…

—Alors arrête !

—Non.

—Thomas…

—Tu n’avais rien à faire ?

—Quoi ? »

La claque la fait bondir. Sur le haut des cuisses, sèche et soudaine.

« Tu m’avais promis que tous tes dossiers seraient bouclés, oui ? »

Elle ne dit rien. Une autre claque. Une autre, cinq, dix.

« Oui ! 

—Oui quoi, Julie ? 

—Oui, j’avais promis… 

—Et ?

—…

Et ?

—J’ai rien fait…

—Vu le pot de glace vide, les canette de coca et l’état du salon, t’as passé la journée devant la télé, je me trompe ?

—Non…

—Non quoi ?

—Non tu te trompes pas… 

—Et donc, cette fessée, tu la mérites ?

—Bah oui mais…

—Mais quoi ?

—C’est pas de ma faute…

—Ah oui ?

—C’est de la faute à Netflix…

—Ah ça, quand tes fesses seront de la couleur du logo, on verra ce que t’en dis ! »

Elle fait la moue.

« Tu vas pas annuler l’abonnement, hein ?

—Oh non, t’en fais pas, tu regardes tes séries, et moi je profite d’un autre spectacle… »

Sa main frappe, Juli sens ses fesses qui gigottent. Clairement, il y gagne, le saligaud.

Happy Valentine’s

If I take you over my knee
And punish you mercilessly
Will you be mine?
Will you be mine?

If I spank you with hand and brush
And make both pairs of your cheeks blush
Will you be mine?
Will you be mine?

If I cane your trembling bottom
The colour of leaves in autumn
Will you be mine?
Will you be mine?

If I promise I’ll make you cry
While telling you exactly why
Will you be mine?
Will you be mine?

If I promise to hold you tight
And hold you close throughout the night
Will you be mine, will you opine?
Love, will you be my Valentine?

Silly Mistakes

“Quiet down, please!” the teacher said to the class. The boys stopped chatting as they saw the pile of papers that she was holding.

“Are these our tests, Miss?” a boy named Ryan asked.

“They are. Now, please take a purple pen and go through the annotations as I hand them.”

There was a rustle as the boys dutifully looked into their pencil-cases for the necessary pen. As post-16 students in one of the top grammar schools in the country, all of them were used to weekly tests, and needed little reminder of what to do. Discipline and behaviour had never been an issue.

“Got it!” Ryan said, holding his pen up. “First?” he looked around. “Boys, always competitive…” Miss Moore thought.

With a tut, she put the paper down on the boy’s desk. He gasped.

“What is this?” he asked.

“That’s your test, Ryan,” she said.

“I can see that, but it seems you’ve given me a… C minus?”

“Indeed, Ryan, that’s quite disappointing… Did you revise before this one?”

“Of course I revised,” he said with a frown. “Not that I needed to, this was ridiculously easy. There must be a mistake.”

There was a snicker behind him. “Is that a C, Ryan?” another boy asked.

“No way!” Ryan said, “Miss has made a mistake.”

She huffed. “There is no mistake! I do not make mistakes. Maybe you need to reconsider the amount of effort you should put into your work, young man.”

Ryan frowned and turned the page, quickly scanning through the answers. Miss Moore gave the next boy his test.

“Miss!” Ryan called.

“Not now, Ryan,” she replied tersely, and kept handing out the tests.

“Hey, Ryan!” the boy behind him called, “Look, an A!”

“A plus!” another called out.

“Quiet, boys…” the teacher warned.

“But Miss!” Ryan called again.

“That’s enough, young man!” she snapped. “I can see that you are disappointed with your grade, but it is merely a result of your own complacency. No one else in the class is complaining. In fact, no one else did quite as bad! Maybe next time you will check your work before handing it in, and make sure that you didn’t make silly mistakes that end up costing you dearly, yes? Now I don’t want to hear one more word about it, understood, Ryan?”

Ryan frowned.

“Ryan?” she asked again.

“Yes, Miss… But…”

“Not another word! I’d rather not have to discipline you. Though if I’m honest with you, a result like that should be reason enough for a good spanking!”

There was a OoooooOooooh from the other boys. It had been a long time since any corporal punishment had been needed, and Miss Moore was well fit. More than one boy had dreamed of being pulled over her lap… or the opposite.

She looked at the rest of the class and lifted a finger in warning. “That’s quite enough, boys. You only have twenty minutes to do your corrections, then the lesson’s over. And as for you, Ryan, I would use my time wisely if I were you and try to understand what went wrong so it doesn’t happen again.”

For the next ten minutes, only the rustling of papers and pens could be heard. As the minutes ticked by, Ryan’s frown only deepened, until he couldn’t hold it in anymore and rose his hand.

“Miss?” he asked.

Sat at her desk, she slapped it with the tip of her fingers and rolled her eyes. “I thought I made myself clear, young man?”

“Yes, but can I show you something, Miss, please?”

“Yes, yes, if there’s something you don’t understand, I can help you, of course.”

“Poor little Ryan can’t even correct the mistakes himself…” said a voice behind him.

More snickers behind his back, and Ryan felt his cheeks blush in shame and anger.

“Shut up!” he said, turning around.

“Ryan!” Miss Moore said.

“But Miss!”

“I’ve had quite enough of your attitude, young man!” she hissed. “I think you and I are going to have a talk at lunch.”

More ooohs and aaahs.

“But you got it wrong!” he said, “Look!”

He held his test up.

“You’ve marked each question as if it were the next,” he continued. “See? The first one here? It’s correct, right? And this one, look? It goes A, C, D, but you circled A, C, D on the next one. And then the next, and then the next!”

Miss Moore snatched the paper off his hand and started leafing through it, blushing. “I-I…” she stammered.

“Well?” Ryan asked.

“I think…” she started.

“Did he get it right?” one of the boys asked.

“Legend!” another yelled from the back.

“It’s all correct, isn’t it, Miss?” Ryan asked with a smile.

“Y-yes… It appears so…”

“So what you’re saying is…” Ryan continued, grabbing his chair and dragging it in front of the desks. “What you’re saying is that you made a silly mistake?”

“I… Hum, well…” she stuttered again.

“Are you telling me you didn’t check your work before handing it in?” he grinned, “I think you’re the one who needs a lesson, Miss…”

The other boys in the room were gleefully looking at her, arms crossed, a smile on their face. One of them, Ian, went to the door and casually leaned against it. A few already had their phones out.

“I don’t know what you’re saying, Ryan, but…”

“What I’m saying, Miss, is that we expect a high standard of work from you, just as you do from us. That’s only fair, right?”

“Yes. I-I suppose?”

“And you said it yourself, such silly mistakes are reason enough for a good spanking.”

“I… Did I say that? I… Hum…”

“You said it, Miss…” said another student with a wry smile.

“Yup, you did,” chirped another.

“What’s my grade?” Ryan asked.

“A… A plus…” Miss Moore said, hesitantly.

“What was it out of? The marks?”

“One… One hundred and ten…”

Ryan looked around with a grin. “What do you think, guys? One hundred and ten, sounds fair?”

All of them nodded, some of them mouthing “Yeah!”

“I… I don’t think that’s appropriate…” Miss Moore tried, but Ryan was already pulling her over his lap.

Quickly, he landed a series of slaps over her dress. It was clingy enough that he could see the patter of her lacy panties underneath. As she wriggled and protested, he held her firmly in place and only spanked her harder, encouraged by his classmates, several of which were pointing their phones at them.

“Maybe next time you won’t be so quick to dismiss questions, Miss?” he said with a grin, and kept landing hard, open-palmed smacks on her curvy ass.

“Oww!” she yelped in pain, “Please! You’ve made your point!”

“Lift her dress!” one of the boys called. Many others approved. Not one to disappoint his audience, Ryan quickly pulled it up, revealing a white pair of lace knickers under which creamy-white buttocks were turning pink. After a second of admiring the view, he went back to work, much to the delight of the other boys. As more slaps poured down, Miss Moore was blushing from both ends, and tears had begun rolling down her cheeks. She was begging and crying out with every other slap, knowing that a classful of boys were staring at her rear, and that a frilly pair of lacy lingerie was all that protected her dignity —the little of it she had left, anyway.

“Have you been counting, Miss?” Ryan asked as his hand hit her wobbling bottom once more.

“Oww! C-counting?”

“The one hundered and ten slaps?”

“W-what?”

Ryan tutted and shook his head, “Were you not paying attention, Miss? I thought the task was quite clear… Such a silly mistake… Should we start again at one, then?”

“N-no! Please! Ryan!”

He nodded to another boy. “Joe. How many?”

“Sixty four,” the other boy said.

“See? We do pay attention, don’t we miss?”

“Y-yes, I-I’m sorry!”

“You said it yourself, you should make sure that you don’t make silly mistakes that end up costing you dearly…”

“Yes… I’m sorry… I…”

“Only forty three to go!” Joe said with a grin.

“No, please!” she moaned.

“Oh yes…” Ryan said with a grin, “But first…”

Pinning her arm behind her back. he grabbed her panties and slowly, almost delicately pulled them down to her thighs, revealing bright red, clenched cheeks. She kicked her legs in protest, but there was nothing the could do. There was palpable excitement in the room, and none of the boys said anything, as if stunned by the view. Big, ugly tears were running down Miss Moore’s cheeks and she screw her eyes shut.

A sudden massive slap made her open them wide again, and she cried out in pain and surprise.

“How many more?” Ryan asked.

“Forty two!” she moaned.

“Well done!” he said and slapped her ass again. And again, and again.

“T-ten!” she sniffled a few minutes later.

“N-nine…”

“Owwwww! Eiiight!”

“Se-e-ven!”

“Six! Six! Oww!”

“Fiiive!”

“F-four, please…”

“Three…”

“Two-Ooow!”

“One! One!”

He held his hand high. “Anything you want to tell us, Miss?”

“I… I…”

“Will you make any more silly mistakes?”

“No! No! I will check my work! I won’t make silly mistakes again! Please”

Just as the final slap landed, the bell went off.

Ryan let his teacher go and got up.

“There you go lads, class dismissed!” he said. Behind him, one hand on her desk, Miss Moore was rubbing her red, painful, punished bottom.

In the hallway

Polly closed the door and stepped into their apartment. She could feel herself blush already. That phone call one the way home had not been pleasant, and she knew very well what was waiting for her. Polly was a bubbly 25-year-old, as upbeat as they came, and she always found a silver lining to every situation. This time, however, there wasn’t any that she could discern.

Nervously, she tucked one side of her hair behind her ear, took her jacket off and hung it in the hallway. James, her boyfriend, was waiting in the living room. She knew he was because he had told her that’s where he would wait for her. He had also told her about what would happen next. In truth, she had hoped she would get away with that one. Unfortunately, she hadn’t counted on the credit card bill coming in the mail. Isn’t it all online these days? she told herself. She bit her lip. She was stalling, standing there in the hallway like an idiot. She felt a knot in her stomach; she hadn’t been spanked in so long…

Yet, there was desire there too. The spanking would hurt. The shame… Would too, in a different way. But she had been feeling bad about that stupid bill for days, and she craved the catharsis. She craved his hands over her, and around her once he was done. She wanted him to tell her it would all be okay, and that he was going to take care of it. Take care of her.

Oh yes, it would burn. She would cry, and beg, and plead. She would curse her own stupidity, and he would scold her like a child… She shivered. Anticipation? She pressed her thighs together. She was still in the hallway. She knew he had heard her come in —their front door needed a good push to close, it was never a discreet entry. She pulled down on her dress. It felt very short, all of a sudden.

Would he take her panties off? Of course he would. When she was spanked, it was a proper punishment, and a proper punishment was on the bare bottom. She knew that. She hated that. Or did she love it? That moment when the fabric slid down her thighs… It signalled the last stage of the spanking, so to speak, things getting serious. Anything before that was only foreplay.

Foreplay… Was it what it was to her? No, it was a punishment. Pain. Humiliation. Her bottom throbbing in agony, fire radiating from her rear. And fire right between her legs too… She would push her bottom slightly up, parting her leg knowing his eyes would be all over her intimacy. Maybe she would moan. In pain, absolutely, but something else too. She was blushing hard already. Her breathing was heavier.

Would he spank her long? Yes… He had told her already. He wasn’t even mad about the bill. He was mad that she hadn’t told him about it. Especially when it was past due. Maybe, somehow, she had wanted this to happen? She wanted him to take charge… She wanted to lose herself in the comfort of him calling the shots. She also knew the effect her punished bottom had on him. The slaps themselves wouldn’t be the only thing to be hard.

But… He would make her wait. She knew it. He had told her. She would be spanked, she would be punished, then sent to the corner while he dealt with the money. She would have to wait, exposed and deliciously horny for him to come and finally forgive her. Would he take her against the wall? Would he take her in his arm and carry her to the bedroom first? Maybe he had some other thing in mind… He had been waiting for her a while, and he was nothing if not imaginative. She shivered again.

Then she remembered that she was still in the hallway, and that she was still making him wait. Before any of that pleasure, before the forgiveness, there was a spanking waiting for her. A hard, painful, and shameful one. She breathed hard.

And stepped into the room.

Customer service

It was a quiet day, it seemed, and the shop was empty. After the festive rush, it was no surprise. People had had their fill of shopping and crowds for a while. That, or they were all still in a food coma. Bliss, Liam thought. He walked towards the back of the shop and found the till, behind which stood a very bored young woman, staring at and twiddling on her phone.

Liam came to stand in front of the now-ubiquitous plexiglass screen and made a little polite wave.

“Heya,” he said. “Happy New Year.”

“Yes? Can I help you?” the young woman said, a practiced look of indifference on her face.

“Hum, yes, it’s for a return. I bought this for a gift and it—” the man started.

“Do you have a receipt?” she interrupted him.

“Pardon me?”

She rolled her eyes. “A receipt. Piece of paper with the price on it. Proof of purchase, yeah?”

“Hum, I’m not sure, I…” Liam hesitated

“Next!” she yelled, looking behind his shoulder.

“What?”

“No proof, no service. Next!” she yelled again.

He turned around.

“… There’s nobody else here…”

“Right, guess I get a break, then.” She smiled and looked back at her phone

“And my return?”

“Can’t help ya.”

“Could you just take a look?” he asked, ticked.

“Did you find you receipt?”

“No but…”

“Can’t help you.” She cut him.

“Please? It’s unopened.” He showed her.

“Nah.”

“Listen, I’m not trying to be a pain here. I have a customer account here, you can probably—”

“Like I said, nah,” she cut him again

He looked around again. “Can I speak to someone else?”

“What is it, Karen? You want to talk to the manager?” she grinned.

“That’s not what I said. Listen, I’m really not trying to be difficult. I’m just trying to return something and, quite frankly, you’re just being rude, you know?”

“Oh, I’m sorry. The customer is always right, isn’t he? And I, the poor little employee should so whatever you want. Is that it?”

“That is… Not what I said either? I’m fine with just an exchange. See? It’s in perfect condition.” He showed her.

“Nah, you see, I’m very busy, I don’t have time to deal with stuff like that.”

“You… don’t look very busy?” Liam said through gritted teeth, his patience wearing thin.

She waved her phone. “Uh, yeah? I’m talking to people?” she said, dismissively. She looked him up and down. “Yeah, it’s probably not a problem that you’d have…”

He frowned, “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means leave me alone, you creep.”

“Right, where’s the owner then?”

“On hols. It’s just you and me. And I’m busy.”

“You’re rude is what you are.”

“Whatever.”

“No, not whatever!”

“What, what are you gonna do, big man? Bore me to death?”

“Clearly, someone should have taught you some manners…”

She rolled her eyes. “Yeah. Can you please leave me alone, thank you. Is that polite enough for you?”

“I would have been gone already if you’d just had a look, you know?”

“Good grief, you just can’t take a hint, can you?” she sighed. She put her phone up and looked at the screen, pouting, “Hey guys!” she said to the phone, “This is the creep that’s harassing me at work! Say hello, creep!” She turned the phone around to face him, and Liam could see himself on video.

“What the hell? Are you filming me?”

“Yeah, say hi!”

He shook his head and shrugged. “Unbelievable…” He turned around and started to walk back out. She came out of her booth and followed him, her phone still held high.

“And there you have it, you guys, that’s how you deal with rude-ass custom—”

Suddenly turning around, he grabbed the phone out of her hand and looked into the camera.

“You think I’m rude? I came here to ask politely for a return”

“Hey! Give it back!” she yelled.

He moved it away from her grasp, still talking to the camera. “This young lady is anything but polite, she thought that tapping away at her phone was more important than actually doing her job.

“Give me my phone!” she yelled again.

“So I think I’ll give her a piece or my mind…” he continued.

“Give me my—”

He grabbed her wrist and pulled her toward what looked like a footstool. With the girl still protesting and trying to get away, he placed the phone on a shelf, camera still recording. He sat and pulled her over his lap in one fluid movement.

“What are you doing?!” she cried. The camera was pointing at her bottom, perched as it was over his knees. He turned to the camera once more. One of his hands was holding her tight by the waist, his other hand went up.

“And this, you guys, is what happens to rude girls…”

With a resounding ‘SLAP!’, his open palm came down on her rear, making her jump and yelp instantly.

“Stop!!” she cried, but it was much too late.

The smacks, slaps and spanks began pouring down one after another over her short dress, and it wasn’t long before she was crying and wriggling, hopelessly trying to get away from his firm grip. She hurled insults and invectives at him, from comments on his mother’s proclivities to questions about his manhood and what he could go do to himself with an impressive diversity of objects. Through it all, he said nothing, hitting her bottom, her thighs with the satisfaction of someone who’d been dreaming of it for a while.

He grabbed her dress and lifted it up to her midriff, exposing a little pair of white knickers.

“No! What are you doing you fucking pervert??” she yelled.

“What someone should have done a long time ago…” he replied with a grin and pulled the underwear down as well. Without missing another beat, the slaps resumed. Twenty more hard slaps and the pale pink had turned bright red. Thirty more, forty, and she was begging him to stop, kicking her legs, grabbing and holding to his leg. He held her firmly in place, relentless.

“So, do you have other comments to make?” he asked.

“N-no…” she said and sniffed.

“I thought so…”

His hand came down again slammed against her tender, hurt bottom. She cried out and whimpered. “Please…”

“Oh I don’t think so,” he said, the slaps falling without a pause. Left-right, left-right, evenly covering her naked, throbbing cheeks. She moaned and protested, tears rolling down her cheeks. He carried on without a word, enjoying the spectacle of her ass jiggling and bouncing under his undivided attention. Little by little, as her bottom became a darker and darker shade of red, her invectives died down and she started crying more. The insults became begging, became pleading, became apologies.

“PLEASE! I’M SORRY!” she yelled at last. He did pause at that.

“Are you going to do your job?” he asked, punctuating the question with a slap.

“Yes! Yes, please!”

“Was it so hard?” Another slap.

“N-no…”

“No sir” Smack!

“Ow! N-no sir!”

“There we go… Get up!” he said with one final slap.

“Oww! Yes, sir…”

As she did so, he reached for the phone and, pointing it to her bruised bottom first, brought it up to her face.

“Something you want to say?” he asked, nodding towards the phone.

“I… I’m sorry… I’ll be m-more professional…” she mumbled

“How should you treat your customers?”

“R-respectfully?”

“And?”

“K-kindly?”

“And?”

“P-p-politely?”

Liam turned to the camera one last time.

“And there you have, you guys! A lesson well learnt!” he said.

Once again…

“Hello corner my old friend…” she thought, trying her best to keep her hands where she had been told to put them, over her head. She wanted nothing more than to rub away the burning pain in her bottom, but she knew that in the end, she would only make matters worse for herself. Not that rubbing her red, throbbing bottom would hurt, but the second spanking she would earn by disobeying certainly would.

Of course, he had been right, she had been speeding, and she had flipped the bird at that stupid bi— at that elderly lady in the other car. Yes, the language had been a bit much… And she had told him to shut up too… In fairness, she probably would have deserved for him to tell her to pull over immediately for a spanking in the car, right there, right then. Sometimes, he really didn’t care if people could see… Just to think of it, she was wet again. She certainly didn’t care. Well, she did it was the most humiliating thing she could imagine. But she liked it. And hated it. It was complicated, okay? And anyway, it hadn’t happened. This time.

After the incident. He had been very quiet all the way home. No scolding, no angry voice. She had kept quiet also, trying to concentrate on her driving and not on the thoughts that were racing through her head. Thoughts of her bottom being thoroughly roasted, mostly. Not stopping and being punished right away meant that he wanted to take his time… And teach her a lesson she wouldn’t soon forget…

Of course, that had been exactly what had happened. Once home, he had told her to go wait for him in the bedroom. She knew what it meant and knew better than to argue. Once there, she had stripped down to her t-shirt and panties, as she always did before he punished her. She was used to it, she had to shamefully admit. She rarely went more than a few days without needing what he called “little adjustments”. The punishments, she felt, weren’t little at all. But the punishments, she knew, were deserved, and needed.

He had made her wait what had felt like a lifetime, her bottom seemingly burning in anticipation. Finally, he had come in. She had been waiting, her hands crossed over her belly, head down. She didn’t dare look up until she was told to do so. And when he did, she mustered the little rebellion she still had in her and blew a strand of hair off her face before asking “What took you so long?” in what she hoped was a too-cool-to-care voice. He had not liked it. Not one bit. In fact, he had turned her around, still standing, and landed twenty hard slaps on her barely covered bottom. She had yelped and moaned immediately, a prelude to the concerto of her cries to come.

And crying she did, big, shameful tears between promises of good behaviour and begging for him to stop, begging for the panties not to come down, begging for the ginger not to be used. The wooden bath brush he had brought with him had not gone to waste either, and she could still feel its heavy head falling on her poor little bottom. In reality, the spanking hadn’t lasted that long. Five minutes? Maybe ten? But he had spent at least as much time scolding her in between burst of spanking. And the shame of it had been worse than the pain. But then, he had told her that he loved her, and he had finally given her the kiss and cuddle that she had been craving all day. Had she done it all just because she had felt that he hadn’t paid enough attention to her? Surely, she wasn’t that childish… Surely…

Still, her heart had been as light as her bottom was hot as she had trotted to the corner. She knew that while she was standing there, he was on the bed, reading, and keeping an eye on her while she cooled off. Then, in a while… Well, they were in the bedroom, and she was already half naked so… She was pretty sure of what would happen next. After all, she was used to it.

Nova and Nadleehe

The following is a series of commissioned images and stories that were made over the years… Hopefully, it all reads well together! The commissioner herself is Native American, these are her Original Characters. Enjoy!

“Well, well, well… Look what the cat brought in? What are we going to do with you, young lady?” a feminine voice purred from behind Nova as she woke up. She wanted to answer, to ask a dozen questions, to cry her defiance… but the hard gag in her mouth prevented her. She struggled against the tight ropes binding her to a chair, feeling them bite into her skin. Who was speaking to her? Where was she? She couldn’t remember a thing. The young native tried to look behind her, but there was no-one to be seen.

“I like your legwarmers…” the voice came again. “Very stylish… Are you a Native, then? Never met one before…”

Once more, she turned her head around, trying to see who was talking. The voice had a sing-song quality to it, an accent she hadn’t heard before. Not from around here, then… If only she could remember where she was… Suddenly, she felt someone tugging at the ropes, making sure they were secure, tightening them against her naked arms and denim jacket. She shivered, unsure of whether it was from fear or a tingle of pleasure.

“Better make sure, you know?” the voice said. She felt hands on her shoulders and a voice whisper in her ear, “I wonder what your name is…” Fingers ran up her neck, playfully.

Finally, the woman stepped in the light in front of Nova. Her skin was pale and freckled, her hair a fiery red. “I’m Saoirse,” she said, “and you and I are going to have some fun…”

*Smack!* Another slap landed on her warmed behind, eliciting a muffled moan from behind her ball gag and a jolt of her legs. For an instant, she wanted to put her hand up to cover her exposed cheeks, but thought the better of it. The other girl had been very clear about it. “You are going to take your punishment without complaining,” she had said, sternly. “You know you deserve it!”

And deep down, she did. The previous night had come back to her in fragments. Loud music, lots of drinks… Hopefully nothing more, but enough to have her stumble home in a daze. Well, what she’d thought was home, anyway. She could see why Saoirse had been less than happy when she’d discovered a total stranger had broken into her house, and was now sleeping in her bed. Nova thought back to her waking up, the tight ropes against her skin, the frisson of powerlessness… And the redhead teasing her.

Saoirse had said that she was going to play with her young captive, and, true to her word, play with her she did. *SMACK!* went another one, a little harder, the hand lingering on her bottom a little too long to be solely punitive. Nova could feel tears forming in the corner of her eyes; her bottom felt warm, painful, and yet… She knew the spanking was barely getting started. And, truth be told, she didn’t know whether she wanted it to stop just yet.

*SMACK! SMACK! SMACK!* The slaps were peppering her bottom, coming faster, harder as the punishment went on. In her sing-song accent, Saoirse kept teasing her, lecturing her, tenderly mocking her. She was enjoying herself, Nova thought, enjoying having her at her mercy. She had pulled her jeans down —thankfully keeping her precious legwarmer up— then her panties had followed; before she’d known it, her bottom was bare for Saoirse to admire and punish in equal measure. She felt her other hand holding her firmly in place; she felt the gag in her mouth preventing her from answering; she heard the smile in Saoirse’s voice.

Submissive, humiliated, Nova didn’t know what to do, didn’t know what to think. Was she… Enjoying this? She didn’t even know if that was possible. She had never explored any of her kinks, and yet… First the ropes, now this… Emotions were swirling inside her, each heavy slap falling on her sore cheeks another mix of fear, pain and desire.

*SMACK!* the spanking continued, and with each slap, the promise of lots more to discover.

***

While Saoirse was having her fun with Nova, Nadleehe, who’d been tied up for a while in the room next door, was left with her surprised thoughts…
 “Nova?! Why is she doing in the home of my date? Oh boy!!… Saoirse really took a liking to herif she is spanking her before me!! No wonder she left me for a while saying she was going to her room to get changed for me…. Still can’t believe Nova got mixed up in one of my dates! I’m surely going to hear it from her later!”

Saoirse, having put Nova in the corner with a red bottom, finally came in and said “Well well, Nadleehe, you never told me about your other cute friend before… Love how you both dress alike…. Now, now, don’t feel so jealous, it will be your turn next, sweetie… I picked Nova first since I found her sleeping in my bed! She was asking for it… But I am saving the best for last, you pretty femboy!”

Saoirse, just done spanking Nova, was admiring her handiwork. Nova’s face was as red as her behind, blushing perhaps from the humiliation, or maybe from the realisation that she had… Enjoyed her first spanking?…

“Well, well, Nova,” the redhead said, “Enjoyed your first time being punished? Too shy to admit it, perhaps?…” She passed her nails over the young Native’s spanked bottom and continued, “You’ve got such a cute, soft litte but… I’d love to have more fun with you, but because of you, I’ve kept my actual date waiting for far too long… So back to the chair you go!”

With speed and confidence born of experience, Saoirse tied Nova up to the chair again. “Lucky you, you get to see what I do to your friend here… I guess I should have said that we’d been dating for a while!” She turn to her other guest, tied up to the second chair

“And you, Nadleehe!” she said, “You never told me  you had such a cute friend… Is she from the same tribe as you?”

There only was a muffled answer.

“Silly me, silly me,” Saoirse continued untying Nadleehe but leaving the gag in, “With both of you gagged, it’s probably better to save the questions for later… And better get to the pounding! I hope your little fembutt is as soft as Nova’s…”

She sat down on the chair to which Nadleehe had been tied. “Over the lap you go!” she announced.

As Saoirse pulled down Nadleehe’s pants, the young native’s face got even more red than Nova’s had been. Saoirse soon knew why as she felt their erect cock pressing against her bare leg. She blushed as well.

“My, my!” she said with a smile, “It seems you are getting really excited about your first spanking, aren’t you? And you’re the first femboy I get to spank… Especially one who is Two Spirited… My favourite date for sure…”

She raised her hand, and with a grin, she began to spank…