And you know what that means : another tale from Lurvspanking based on the Wicked Wednesday prompt of the week. This time, the keyword was “Shopping“. Be warned, it is a noire, fantastical kind of story!
Emma took a quick look in her mirror, pouting her lips and rearranging her hair. It was the third time this month that her car was pulled over by the police for speeding. So far, not a single ticket, she knew how to take them. She pulled her top down a little and pushed her breasts up. It was crass but it worked. Lowering the music on her radio, she put on her nicest smile, opened her window all the way and purred :
“Oh, I’m so sorry officer… I was distracted… I’m sure that you can—” she abruptly stopped as her eyes went up and saw the lady in a police uniform, her arm crossed over her chest, an eyebrow lifted.
“I… Hum…” she started again,
“So you’re that German girl I’ve been hearing about…” the policewoman interrupted, “Seems like a warning isn’t enough for you, huh?”
“No, I mean… It’s is… Ma’am…” she stuttered, blushing. This wasn’t going according to plan at all.
“I need your driving licence and the car’s registration,” the lady said matter-of-factly.
Emma nodded and ruffled through her bag to find her purse.
“I… It’s in here somewhere…”
“You don’t have your papers with you?”
“No I do… It’s just… Hum…”
“You realise you’re in another country, fraülein, right?” she said dismissively and crossed her arms over her chest again.
“I…” Emma blushed even more, looking in her bag again, desperately emptying it over the passenger’s seat.
The policewoman rolled her eyes.
“Come out of the vehicle, mademoiselle.”
“Come out of your car,” she said again with a stern look. There was no arguing with her and Emma knew she was in enough trouble already ; apparently that woman knew she had been caught speeding before, she didn’t have any papers with her, she should play nice. The young blonde girl opened the door and gingerly stepped out. Cars were flashing by on the motorway by the dozens.
“Do you know what country you’re in?” the officer said with a smile.
“Frankreich? I mean, France?”
“Yes. And we don’t have autobahns here, you understand? Speed is limited. Everywhere. But you know that, don’t you?”
“You know that because my colleagues have told you so before.”
“How… How do you know it was me?” she said, a little defiant.
“Blond, German girl in her late twenties driving a white BMW at reckless speeds and trying to entice young policemen? There are surprisingly few of those.”
“Still doesn’t prove—”
“I’ve gotten them to give me your plate number, mademoiselle,” she cut her.
Emma blushed and looked down, her hands nervously twisting.
“Now, I think there’s only one thing to do… I’ll have to take you to the station. We’ll arrange for your car to be towed…” the policewoman continued.
“No, please… I’m sure my papers are in there… I… I’m sorry… Bitte… Please…”
“I don’t want to know how you got out of trouble before, I’ve only heard the other guys bragging about ‘that German hottie in her white car’, but it’s not going to work on me, I can tell you that.”
“Please, Madame, I… I was going to be late to an appointment… It’s really important…”
“Well look at you now! You’re not going to make the appointment at all!”
“I beg you…” she teared up, her lip quivering, “I will lose my job…”
The policewoman looked at the young German girl in silence while tears rolled down her face. With her hair cut to shoulder length, her big, flashy sunglasses up in her hair, the fancy clothes and car, she was everything the French woman despised. She was young and well off and thought herself above the rules and laws. “I’ll show her…” she thought.
“Fine,” she said, “Step over to the front of the vehicle and put your hands on the hood.”
Emma sniffled and did as she was told. The hood was warm to the touch. She looked back at the officer over her shoulder.
“Are… Are you going to search me? I don’t do drugs, I…”
“No, mademoiselle, I’m going to spank you.”
“You’re going to wh—”
The first slap interrupted her, her head jolting up in surprise. “Oooow!” she yelped. The slaps came in quick successions, heating up her bottom through her tight jeans. She tried to cover her behind and only got harder slaps for her trouble.
“Keep your hands down or it’ll get a lot worse for you,” the woman warned as more heavy smacks rained down on her poor teutonic buttocks. Cars were still zipping by, some of them honking as they passed them.
Emma tried to get up again. “That’s enough!” she said, her voice trembling with humiliation and anger.
“You had been warned!” the policewoman said, putting her hand on her back and pushing her back down. Then, with her left, she grabbed Emma’s jeans and yanked them down to her thighs.
“Nooo!!” Emma cried, “You can’t do that!”
“I don’t think you have a say in the matter, mademoiselle,” the officer answered as she pulled the pair of white panties down as well. “Now don’t move!”
Emma was wincing and clenching her round cheeks as the spanking began anew with renewed fury over her bare, exposed bottom. It was now in full view to all the people driving along the road, and she heard people yell encouragements to the police officer through their car windows. She struggled to stay still, rising on her toes with each hard slap. She had never been so humiliated in her life! That… monster was pouring spank after hard spank on her round cheeks. The burning was intense, the shame unbearable, and still she went on.
The spanking went on for what seemed like an eternity to the poor Emma, her roasted bottom on display and sending wave of heat and pain up her core. She clenched her teeth and tried not to give the policewoman the satisfactions of the moans of pain, but failed miserably.
“Oooooooow! Oow! Aaaaa…”
The woman, on the other hand, was enjoying herself fully, dishing out pain and justice with every hard blow. That dumb German bimbo thought she could get the better of the French police? Well who was having the last laugh now? She grinned as she spanked the girl’s two red orbs, marking them with deep red handprints.
When the officer finally relented, the poor girl almost fell down on the hood of her car, sobbing, rubbing her poor, thoroughly punished bottom. She wasn’t thinking of the people passing by anymore, she wasn’t even thinking about the policewoman or her appointment, all she could think of was how much her bottom hurt.
The policewoman rubbed her hands together, sore as they were, and cleared her throat.
“Consider this a warning, then,” she said with a cruel smile. “I’ll give you a form so that you can make it to your appointment even without your licence…”
The girl sobbed and nodded a little “Danke,” still rubbing her bottom.
A few minutes later, she was back in her car, trying to fix her makeup as most of it had run down her cheeks. She had cringed and yelped as she had pulled her jeans up over her burning, crimson behind, and again as she had sat on the leather seats, her bottom sore and swollen.
“Well,” she thought, “at least I got away with it again… But that woman spanked a lot harder than the other policemen…”
I’m very please to welcome a guest writer today, the lovely Gesperax from over at dA, who has a particular thing for international spankings. Her main character, Belinda, a typical German girl, always finds herself in some kind of spanking-related trouble… ^^
The party was in full swing. There were people dancing in the ballroom, mingling between themselves throughout the halls, and committing debauchery in the upstairs bedrooms. This year university Halloween party had an animal theme, so the all guests were dressed in the costumes more or less looking as different animals. Of course, the most popular were exotic predators, but some of the students had chosen types more usual to Northern Hemisphere.
A not very tall curvy blonde in a very revealing wolf-costume walked around the hall. It was Belinda – a German exchange student. She looked around and took a glass of grog from the table. She looked around again and grinned, seeing Melissa – a small slim brown-haired girl in a bunny costume, which looked more like a playboy-girl costume. The German came near and whispered: “Are you a snack?” she giggled at her own joke.
“Very funny, Belinda!” Melissa replied “But would you like to tease someone else? I don’t like your sense of humour!”
“Or, really?” Belinda grinned, “Maybe have you no sense of humour?”
“I’m not sure, that you have one!” Hélène – a beautiful French girl in a vixen-costume said, suddenly appearing from behind. The German turned to her.
“What did you say?” she asked a bit angrily.
“I said, that your own sense of humour is really bad,” the French girl replied “So it’ll be better if you won’t repeat such jokes!”
Belinda grinned: “Oh yeah, and what will happen to me if I do?”
Hélène grinned: “Your plump butt will be as red, as this grog!”
For a few moments, Belinda looked rather confused and even frightened, then her face turned a bit red from the anger. “Watch your tongue, Foxy!” she stepped forward, getting closer to her opponent.
“What’s the matter, Wolfy?” Hélène giggled.
“How dare you call me fat?” the German whispered angrily.
“Maybe because that’s true?” the French looked at her innocently and stepped back.
Belinda groaned and spilled her grog right in her opponent’s face, but right when she tried it, somebody in a bear costume appeared right between them. A moment later he stopped, wiping his face, and then turned to Belinda, who recognized Vladislav – a tall, really looking like a bear, muscular exchange student from Russia, who was famous for his very short temper.
“What the hell is going on?!” he shouted “Do you think it’s funny?!”
“Emm…” Belinda mumbled.
“Oh, I’ll show you an emm!” he said and pulled girl by her ear to the chair nearby. He sat down and pulled the German over his knee. Belinda squirmed and struggled, trying to break out. “What do you think you are doing?!” she shouted.
“Well, just give you your reward!” he said and lifted her grey mini-skirt and pulled her panties to her knees. Her bottom was on display to everyone at the party who was watching.
Belinda gasped in fear and shame and tried to break out but Vladislav held her firmly. He raised his arm. Hélène stood behind him, grinning.
Suddenly there was a loud pop followed by a cry as the Russian palm came down hard on the German bottom. Everyone cheered and laughed at the punishment. Vladislav smiled and told the crowd that it would appear Belinda had never gotten a proper punishment before. The crowd laughed even harder as he brought his palm down repeatedly on Belinda’s bottom.
Belinda moaned and clenched her teeth, trying not to scream again, but after the few more spanks she started squirming over the Vladislav’s knee and wagging her bottom, trying to save it from his stinging palm. She moaned and screamed in pain, cursed and sweared, but quickly started begging and bawling. She felt like her bottom was on fire. She howled in pain like a real she-wolf, when the Russian bear finally thought that she had enough and threw her from his knee.
The poor girl landed right on her tender bottom, and that made her jump up screaming in pain and started the brat war dance for a few minutes. Finally relieving from the pain a bit she looked around. Everyone were looking at her, laughing. She cried in shame and ran away, clutching her sore bottom.
Now for something different… I was asked if I could reimagine two characters from a well-know cartoon engaging in a playful spanking… So I had a go at it! I think I do enjoy punitive spankings more, spankings with a reason and purpose, but if both are enjoying it, it can be a very sensual, sexual thing too, of course!
I hope the two characters are somewhat recognisable, though ^^
By the way, feel free to ask me for commission infos, I’ll be happy to draw your deepest desires 😉 Just send me an email at email@example.com (or use the contact form in the top right corner).
Tout d’abord, mes excuses à celles ou ceux tombés sur ce blog par hasard, en tapant “fessée” dans un moteur de recherche ou que-sais-je, et déçus de ne trouver que des textes en anglais ici. A dire vrai, le public anglophone est tout simplement, et très logiquement plus large… C’est vénal, je sais… Mais je voulais également me frotter un peu à la langue de Shakespeare et voir si je pouvais enchanter d’autres publics que celui de ma langue maternelle. Pari en suspends pour l’instant mais les retours sont positifs et je m’en réjouis!
Néanmoins, j’ai voulu inclure cette référence à la langue de Molière dans la tagline (ironie!) quand j’ai créé ce blog il y a peu, car je ne renie pas la possibilité d’y mettre aussi des textes en français, qu’ils soient originaux ou de simples traductions de ceux en anglais. J’avais pensé faire une version totalement bilingue du blog, mais cela me semble être beaucoup de travail pour un résultat pour le moins incertain. J’espère que les gribouillis que je poste vous plaisent, quand bien même vous ne saisiriez pas leur contexte.
Reste que s’il y en a parmis-vous qui seraient intéressés de me lire en français plus souvent, n’hésitez pas à vous manifester, on publie pour être lu et servir son auditoire, n’est-ce pas?
Ses mains sans cesse et sans relâche
Passaient des claques à la cravache
De la ceinture au cruel fouet
Des canes souples au martinet
Il frappait encore et encore
Marquant sa peau, sa chair, son corps
Il la fessait, la punissait
Mais toujours d’un commun accord
Dans son intime il inscrivait
Son nom, jamais plus effacé
Son être entier lui confessaient
Son amour fou de la fessée
Son désir fou de la fesser
“Tut, tut, tut,” Katia said, leaning a shoulder against the wall, her arms crossed over her chest, one foot resting on its toes as she crossed her legs as well. Shaven hair on one side, tattooed arms, always in jeans and revendicative tee-shirts, the tall, slender girl was the resident rebel of the high school’s seniors.
The one she was tutting at, a blond, toned yet curvy girl in her tight long-sleeved numbered shirt, was one of the cheerleaders. Her name was Claire, and she nervously looked up at Katia.
“What do you want?” she barked, one arm behind her back.
“That’s a filthy habit, you know?” the punkette answered with a nudge of her head towards the cheerleader. She smiled.
“Wh… what is?” she said, unable to control her blushing.
“What you’re hiding behind your back… You know?”
“What do you care,” she said, defiant, as she brought her hand to the fore, still holding a half-smoked cigarette.
“I don’t,” Katia said with a smile, “but the Principal might. You know the rules, don’t you? He wouldn’t be pleased…”
Their school, or rather, their private institute was indeed famous for its strict, some said antiquated rules. Corporal punishments were still frequent, administered in public on Friday afternoons in front of the whole school in congress. Katia herself was well aware of it, having been on that stand more times than she cared for, her panties pulled down to her knees, her bottom paddled mercilessly by the principal in front of her mocking classmates. Where it not for the riches of her parents, she would have been expelled a long time ago.
“Since when do you care about the rules?” Claire said with a sneer, “Aren’t you an anarchist or something?” The disdain was evident in her eyes. She laughed and lit her cigarette back.
Katia got off the wall and walked towards her, grabbing the smoking stub out of the blonde’s mouth.
“What’s your problem!?” Claire yelled, her hands grabbing for it, “Let me be you dumb bitch…”
“Oh I’m the dumb bitch, huh?” the tall girl said, holding the cigarette away from her counterpart. “Fine, I’ll just go see what the Principal has to say about it…”
“Stop it! He wouldn’t believe you anyway!” Claire said, enraged, “And I’ll tell him you were the one smoking!”
“Oh yeah…” Katia held the cigarette butt before her, “not with all that red lipstick on it, honey…” She grinned.
“You…” Claire started, “What do you want?”
“I’m pretty sure the punishment for smoking is at least thirty swats with the paddle… I think it’s been a while since one of you pom-poms were punished, hasn’t it?”
Claire kept silent, glaring at her.
“Think of all the guys just dying to see that…”
Claire tightened her jaw. “Again, what do you want?” she muttered.
“Well,” Katia said with a wide smile, “If you let me spank you here and now, I will spare you the public humiliation… I know what it’s like, and you wouldn’t like it…”
The cheerleader frowned, “That’s a joke, right?”
“Nope. Either I spank you right now or you can take your chances with the principal…”
Claire looked down at the floor, nervously playing with her hair as she pondered the dilemma. She knew the school’s staff was uncompromising on smoking. One of her classmates had had to bring a cushion to class for a few days just two weeks earlier, and had been mocked mercilessly by some other pupils. As a cheerleader, she would be a prime target for teasing and humiliation.
On the other hand… She wasn’t about to let some… Wannabe rebel spank her! No, she wouldn’t.
“Tic-toc, princess,” Katia said mockingly.
“I… What proof do I have that you won’t go to the Principal anyway?”
“You don’t have any, but I’ll give it back to you as soon as I’m done with your butt, no pun intended…” she answered;
Claire rolled her eyes. “How do I know you’re not lying?”
“You don’t, you’ll have to trust me!”
The cheerleader fell silent again and Katia held up her right hand.
“You might think that I don’t respect anything but my word is sacred,” she said, suddenly very serious.
Claire fixed the floor, blushing. She chewed her lip, hesitating, thinking. “All right,” she murmured, finally.
“What was that?”
“I said all right!” the young blonde said, her anger flaring up again, “Do what you must, you… pervert… and be done with it!” She couldn’t believe what she was about to let that… that… that stupid bitch do to her, but she knew it couldn’t possibly hurt as bad as the paddle, and she would do practically anything to spare herself the public humiliation and the stain on her perfect record. What’s more, smoking could eventually cost her her place on the team, as cheerleaders were to be paragons of the school’s alumni. The Principal could very well decide that her smoking was giving too bad an example to her fellow students.
Mortified, she followed Katia to a flight of stairs on which the punkette sat down, and she came to lie across her knees. She was angry, angry at Katia for taking advantage of the situation, angry at the school for its stupid rules, angry at her parents for putting her in it and signing off on corporal punishment. It dawned on her that that was probably what Katia felt like on a daily basis. Then, ultimately, she was angry at herself for being so stupid, for smoking, and for having gotten caught. She was lost in her anger when the first slap came, snapping her out of it. She howled.
Katia didn’t give her a chance to say a thing and hammered her victim’s bottom with large, powerful slaps, already enjoying the bounce and jiggle of that firm, round bottom. She spanked left and right, never relenting, building up the heat in Claire’s behind right away, giving her no rest in between hard spanks.
The cheerleader was restless, turning and squirming over her lap, trying to escape the slaps as they rained down on her cheeks. Her cries of pain were quickly turning into pitiful mewling, her anger gone and replaced with pain, shame and fear. It returned quickly when Katia declared “Take your shorts down.”
That was a bridge too far, and she started yelling at her, calling her all the expletives she knew, promising vengeance. Katia silenced her with a series of hard, wrathful slaps.
“You agreed to my terms,” she warned, “You’re getting punished as I see fit, or you won’t get the cigarette back.”
“That’s blackmail!” Claire said, tears starting to roll off her cheeks.
“Yup,” Katia grinned, “Now take off your shorts.”
Anger deforming her beautiful face, Claire got up and pulled her pair of jean shorts all the way to her knees, stomping her feet, her face nearly as red as her already well punished bottom. She got back over Katia’s lap, trembling.
“I hate you…” she said between her gritted teeth.
“Believe me, I’m doing you a favour,” she answered.
Claire scoffed and stayed silent.
“Now, what did you call me a minute ago?” Katia said with a menacing grin, and as Claire’s eyes opened in fear, the rain of spanks started anew, her light, white panties little barrier against the punkette’s fury. She slapped, and spanked, and whacked, and smacked, punishing blow after punishing blow, turning the cheerleader’s bottom a cherry red in mere minutes. Grabbing her knickers, she pulled them down swiftly, ignoring any protestation. A proper spanking was on the bare, everyone knew that.
Katia was jubilating, ecstatic. She had always dreamed of bringing one of the haughty cheerleaders down a peg, and now she was fulfilling two fantasies in one. As the heat spread to the blonde’s bottom and thighs, so it did between her own legs, bringing her pangs of frustration when she couldn’t pleasure herself right there, right then. She caught a glimpse of the cheerleader’s intimacy. It was glistening. She felt a sudden rise of desire and bit her lip. That delicious, bouncy, red, round bottom…
She kept spanking it with abandon, her hand burning with pain, her arm tiring with the constant effort. Claire was crying, bawling, pleading until at last she stopped. With a final hard slap she announced “Done!” and let the sobbing cheerleader get up, rubbing her bottom.
Katia took the half-smoked cigarette and offered it to her.
“There, I’ll keep my word.” Claire snatched it and threw it to the ground, flattening it with the sole of her Converse shoe. She pulled her shorts back up with a wince, she large, swollen bottom struggling to fit, much to the delight of her onlooking tormentor. She sat down on the stairs with a grimace of pain and wrapped her arms around her knees. Katia laid back a little.
“I hate you,” the cheerleader said matter-of-factly, her head resting on her knees, tears still wet on her face.
“I know,” Katia answered with a shrug. She looked down, softly rubbing her thighs together, sending waves of guilty pleasure up her core. There was a long silence.
“Thank you…” Claire finally said. She looked the other way, half angry, half relieved that it was over. Katia looked at her in surprise.
“You’re… Welcome?” she said, unsure what to say.
“I…” A pause, “If I ever need to be motivated…” She was still looking away, not daring to look at the other girl’s dark shadowed eyes.
And Katia smiled, a genuine, happy smile that hadn’t grazed her lips in a long while.
She was standing in front of his desk, twisting her hands behind her back, looking down, red in the face. She dared not speak. He took his glasses off and pinched the bridge of his nose.
“I needed these sent two days ago, Julia,” he said, grabbing a handful of papers and raising them up for her to see.
“Oh these…” she said in a tiny, trembling voice. She grabbed the edge of her tight skirt and nervously played with the fabric.
“Yes, these,” he snapped, slamming them back on the desk. “Now we might lose that contract! You told me everything was ready to go!” He looked up at the young mid-twenties girl in her short skirt and tight, smart jacket
“I…” she hesitated, then murmured, “I couldn’t… I couldn’t find them anymore and…”
“And you didn’t think to… ask?” He pinched the bridge of his nose again. “How long have you been working here, Julia?”
“A… A year, sir… I…”
“A year.” He paused, leaving her to guess his intentions, “And in these twelve months, how many times have I needed to correct your mistakes?”
“I… A few times, sir…” she said, head bowed, blushing even more.
“So, why do you keep doing the same mistakes over and over again?”
“I don’t know, sir,” she said, tears filling her eyes, “I’m trying… Please, don’t fire me…”
He raised an eyebrow and shook his head. “I’m not going to fire you,” he said calmly, “but I can’t let this pass with no consequence. Do you understand that?
Julia nodded pitifully, “Yes, sir, I understand…” Her hands were still behind her back, and with her head bowed she looked the picture of a scolded schoolgirl before a stern teacher.
He got up, putting the tip of his fingers on the desk, and declared: “I am going to spank you, right now, over my knees, Julia. And that is what will happen every time you make a mistake in this office.”
She gasped, covering her mouth, her eyes widening in surprise and fear.
“A… A sp… A spanking?” she stuttered, “But sir… You… You can’t…”
“I’m being absolutely serious, Julia,” he interrupted, “I won’t be so lenient anymore. I need things done properly in this office, and I need to be able to rely on you.”
“But sir…” she pleaded, “I… I’ll be more careful, I… I’ll do my best… Just… Please, you can’t spank me like some… Little… brat or something…” She felt like she had never blushed so hard in her life. The mere idea got her on the verge of tears, and she nervously bit her lip, looking at the pile of papers on the desk.
He gently, yet firmly took her arm and directed her towards his chair, without a word. In a daze, she didn’t find any to say either, and she followed, mesmerised. he sat down, keeping silent, and gestured for her to lie across his lap.
“Sir… Please…” she tried… But he would have none of it. He raised a finger and pointed at her.
“You will take the punishment you know you deserve, Julia, I’m sick and tired of your mistakes. I’ve been way too lenient with you and you know it.”
Tears rolled down her cheeks and it was all she could do not to completely break out in tears. She shyly, submissively nodded her head and went down and over his lap, her round bottom slightly raised for him to punish as he saw fit.
He patted it a few times and she screwed up her eyes, expecting the first slap any moment. She didn’t have to wait long.
The first blow came, and she cried out in pain. “Ooooooooooow!! Sir…”
“No, Julia,” he said calmly, “We are going all the way with this.” And as he said, so he did, his hand raising and falling in a slowly increasing rhythm, harder and harder, dishing out more and more pain to her poor behind. She couldn’t help but cry out with every slap, half cries, half moans that made her even more ashamed of her situation. Still the slaps came, long series over one cheek, then the other. Pain, burning pain was all that she could feel now. Tears were freely flowing.
When the skirt came up, revealing her lacy stockings and garter-belt, she didn’t even think to protest, nor did she say a word when her panties found themselves half-way down across her thighs. Completely subservient, she took her punishment as she had been told she should, without a word of protest.
That didn’t stop him pouring spank after hard spank over her buttocks, reddening them more and more as he went. As in all things, he was thorough, not leaving a single square centimetre of white flesh on her large bottom. She was sobbing, her legs kicking as the slaps came down over and over, and over again.
Finally, and for the first time since her punishment had started, he stopped. She winced and expected more slaps to come. Was he going to do something else to her? Was she about to get the paddle? Did he keep a cane hidden somewhere in his office? The thoughts raced in her head, each one worse than the other.
“I think that’ll be enough,” he said, much to her surprise, “and I hope I won’t need to do it again, Julia.”
The tears choked her and she could only nod forcefully. He got her up and pointed at one side of the table.
“Bend over the desk, your arms and hands flat upon it.”
She obeyed without protest and closed her eyes. She had never felt more humiliated in her entire life, exposing her thoroughly punished bottom clad in her lacy underwear for her boss to see and admire at his leisure. In her position, she was facing the office’s door, and she dreaded nothing more than seeing that door open and someone else see her shame.
He rolled his chair back to the table, by her side and arranged the paper in a neat pile.
“Now, Julia,” he said, “let’s review the papers one more time…”
To whom does that spanked bottom belong and why is she being punished?
Head on to Lurvspanking’s blog to find out all about it in a delicious Wicked Wednesday short story.
Expect more collaborations in the future!
You should have known, wearing that dress you knew was a little too short, high heels that made your legs go on for days, with your little pout and your cutting remarks all day long. You had not wanted to tell me what panties you were wearing, told me I might see them come the evening, but I knew I wouldn’t be disappointed. Our usual games… To think I had decided to be nice that day, patient, even, not to take advantage of the tiny, narrow streets and take you under my arm and let a few hard slaps fall on your tempting behind, not to walk a few steps behind you to innocently slap your derrière as I passed you… I was in a good mood, the sun was shining and we were about to spend a very nice evening… very cuddly, and probably very kinky, if I’d read your signals right. I couldn’t dream better.
However, as the walk we were taking went on, you had become more and more aggressive, harsh, nothing was good enough. You were too hot, your feet hurt, you didn’t want to go through there, or there… Being grumpy happens, but when you started raising your tone in that busy street, I felt my calm drain and disappear. I took your arm, firmly, turning you to face me and my glare.
“Keep your temper in check, Lucy, is that clear?”
It wasn’t enough for you, you tried to get away, even daring to hit me with your purse. “Fine! Let me go!”
No, it wasn’t fine, and starting to sigh loudly and telling me I was “a pain in the ass” and that you “couldn’t say anything” with me… you knew it wouldn’t slide. Passing my hand over your neck, I showed you a bench, in the shade, nearby.
“I’m warning you, miss, you calm down right this instant or you’re going to get that public spanking you’ve been dreaming of; right there, right now.”
Oh it didn’t calm you down, if anything, it made you even more bold. You rolled your eyes, nearly laughing out loud.
“You would never dare, you’re all talk anyway…” You were mocking, bordering on insulting… People were looking at us, staring, and you kept your capricious little girl attitude.
“Okay, that does it.” Holding your arm, I dragged you to that bench. You were a little less boastful and proud, undoubtedly, but you kept on getting smart with me.
“Pfff, okay, stop, you had your alpha male moment, I got it…” you groaned. I said nothing, slowly dragging you towards that blue-grey metal bench. The closer we got to it, the more you were twisting and turning, trying to free your arm.
“Okay… I got it… Stop… Please…” Your face was reddening (although you weren’t wearing any blush that day, as far as I know), and you turned your head, seeing all the passers-by looking at us, intrigued. Your voice became a little more tearful, a little more pleading.
“Please… Hon… I… You will do everything you want when we’re home, okay? I’m sorry. I’ll be good… Please, there are way too many people….” I still said nothing, shaking my head ; then, taking a deep breath, I turned around and fixed your big blue eyes that were now shimmering with barely contained tears.
“You should have thought of that before, young lady. You should have thought of that before you acted like a little brat all evening, you should have thought of that before being insolent. You should have thought of that before doubting me. You thought I wouldn’t do it? You don’t know me at all, in the end. I’m disappointed. Very disappointed, even… But you already knew that, didn’t you?” I got closer to your face, pressing your arm a little more, “Didn’t you?”
Choking on tears, you stammered a “Y… Yes”
“Yes Master… Please…”
But it was too late; you should have known. I don’t know what went through your head as I sat on that bench, still holding you firmly, and when I got you over my knees. Maybe you regretted the shortness of that dress, which let nothing to imagination in that position; or maybe you though that in the end, wearing panties would have been a good idea. You uttered some other “No.. No…”, hiding your face with your free hand, trying not to see the passers-by gasping, mothers hurrying their kids away, the latter fascinated by and pointing at this lady about to be spanked like a misbehaving child.
Given the situation, I didn’t want to waste any time, and my hand immediately went down on your barely covered bottom. The dry sound of slaps caught the attention of the last people who hadn’t noticed the commotion. A dozen of slaps on each cheek, each one stronger than the next, dry and hard. You were already clenching your teeth.
“That’s funny, I can’t hear you anymore?” I was probably red in the face as well by then, but I didn’t care, and I continued spanking you with abandon while you were wriggling, horrified and barely containing your little cries. Nobody dared approaching or even say anything, instead nudging others, pointing fingers, commenting. And that’s when you made your gravest mistake. As I was thinking you had learnt your lesson and I was going to get you up again and quickly run away, you couldn’t help yourself:
“Okay, you got what you wanted! Now let me go!” Oh, that tone, still with that rebel attitude. No, you still hadn’t learnt.
“Oh, that’s how it is then? Very well…” the menace wasn’t that clear, and still I think you understood it straight away. Without even having seen them, I can imagine your eyes widening when I grabbed the bottom of your dress and lifted it in one swoop, unveiling your round cheeks that were obviously red under your tensed black tights. It even drew a little “Oooh” from the crowd that, all things considered, was slow to disperse, no doubt captivated by the spectacle.
“No, no, stop! Stop, I beg you… I beg you, Master… I…” But it was too late. Way too late, and your tights immediately found themselves lowered further than you reddened globes, erasing the little dignity you had left under the eyes of the passers-by, and mine that were full or ire and desire. I think I’ll always remember the noise, the echo of that first slap on your naked buttocks, in that tree’s shade, down that street. A dry noise, almost metallic, and the sound of your little moan of pain and shame. To these sound I added a lot more, full-handed slaps that made your already red ass bounce, moans, your legs kicking, your hand trying in vain to cover the object of all my attentions.
Forgotten, your pride: you did nothing but apologise, beg, plead. You wouldn’t do it anymore, you would be good, you were sorry, you were asking me for forgiveness, you would do what I wanted, you would never be insolent again. And your bottom was getting all the more red under the stupefied look of the mesmerised audience. You could feel, lying over my knees, how much it excited me, and from what I knew, in spite of the shame and humiliation (or maybe because of them), it didn’t leave you cold either. A few minutes and dozens of slaps later, I finally stopped and got my head closer to yours.
“So tell me, Lucy, do you understand now?”
Your head bowed, you muttered something, choking on tears still. My hand fell once more on your poor bottom. You moaned.
“I’m sorry? I didn’t hear you?”
“Yes… I understand… I will behave… I’m sorry….” This time, there was a lot more sincerity to your voice, a lot less bravado.
“Now, do you want to say something to the audience?”
“No… Pl… Please,” you murmured, I’ve really learned my lesson… Master…”
I nodded, my cheeks on fire, and quickly pulled your tights back up, admiring the results of my hard work one last time.
“Get up, we’re going home… And I’m warning your, Lucy, I’m not done with you…”
Keeping your head bowed, you got up in a hurry and put your dress back down, glancing at the bulge clearly deforming my jeans.
“Yes, sir… We have all night… Can… Can we go, please?” You were biting your lip, not daring to look up, at me or at anyone.
I got up and couldn’t help but give a little bow, then took you by the hand and quickly made for a little side-street, towards the hotel and a night that, just as planned, looked like it would be a very nice one indeed.
Keep Looking Back Over your Shoulder
NSFW, 18+ only please: Lots of kinky sex, domestic discipline, Dominance & submission, BDSM and spankings ahead!
Dominant & Submission Writing
Married submissive: The love, the kink and the connection.
[No cats were harmed in the making of this blog. They all love to be spanked.] Exploring the psychology 'behind' spanking through fiction and poetry. Because, nothing says 'I love you' better than a red, sore, bare bottom. Comments welcome and discussion encouraged. I believe spanking between consenting adults leads to closer and more intimate relationships. Spanking is not a kink, not a fetish, not a lifestyle, but rather, a healthy and honest means of communication. Let your mind free and respect will follow. Contact me firstname.lastname@example.org
NSFW; F/F Spanking Stories