Crime never pays!
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?”
— Moi j’abuse ?
—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 ?
—Ah bah c’est un comble…
—Bah oui, hein… Cette fessée, là, c’est de l’abus !
Sa main s’abat une fois de plus sur la croupe déjà rougie de la demoiselle.
« Mais arrête !
—De me fesser !
—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 !
—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…
—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 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.
We were having a conversation about M/F spankings in other parts, so here we go!
Though I personally prefer F/F scenarios, I do try to keep some variety around here ^^
Had fun colouring that bottom, too 😁
Anyway, tell me what you’d like to see in the future!
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.
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.
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.
“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?”
“Can’t help you.” She cut him.
“Please? It’s unopened.” He showed her.
“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.”
“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.
“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?”
Liam turned to the camera one last time.
“And there you have, you guys! A lesson well learnt!” he said.
To all of you and all your loved ones, a Happy Christmas (or equivalent!). I hope that despite all that’s happening in the world, you find time to celebrate in the company of people you love.
This picture is also a request from the reward tiers of my game, Elven Kingdom! It is a tradition in the Kingdom that the Ruler be spanked by the spirit of Midwinter to bring a happy new year. As princess Maera is now in charge, she also gets to fulfil that duty! Thank you to the supporter, and feel free to check the game out!
I make no apology ❤️
“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.
« Alors, tu m’ignores ?
—Quoi ? Non, pourquoi ?
—Bah je sais pas, tu dis rien…
—Je suis juste fatigué.
—Je le connais, ce regard.
—Quel regard ?
—Le regard coupable…
—Je te connais, tu sais…
—Bah pas vraiment, apparemment…
—Quand tu veux de l’attention, tu fais des bêtises…
—Tu crois ?
—Donc si j’avais de l’attention, je ne ferais pas de bêtises, oui ?
—Bah c’est logique.
—Donc si j’en fais, des bêtises, c’est de ta faute…
—C’est la faute à ton manque d’attention. CQFD…
—CQ rougi, surtout…
—Ah bah non. Si c’est pas de ma faute, c’est pas moi qui me ferais punir, hein.
—Et qui l’a faite, la bêtise ?
—Bah quelle bêtise, d’abord ? J’ai pas vu de bêtise, moi…
—Oui mon choupinet ?
—Qu’est ce que t’as fait ?
—Rien qui vaille la peine d’en parler, vraiment…
—Ah si, si…
—Ah non, non…
—Julie, plus tu attends, pire ce sera.
—Tu sonnes comme Yoda.
—Ne change pas de sujet…
—De sujet, ne change pas, mmmmmmh?»
Sans un mot, il la prend par le poignet et la bascule sur ses genoux. Pas trop tôt… Il se ramollit avec l’âge, clairement. Ou peut-être qu’il aime ça, la faire attendre… Ah le petit saligaud… Est-ce qu’il sait ? Non, s’il savait il ne l’aurait pas ignorée si longt— « AIIIIE ! »
La claque est dure. Sa robe est légère. Pas vraiment de saison. La culotte, pas rembourrée non plus, c’est comme s’il n’y en avait pas. Les gifles s’abattent l’une après l’autre. Droite, gauche, droite, gauche, les fesses, les cuisses…
« Mais c’est pas juuuuuste !
—Quoi ? Qu’est ce qui n’est pas juste ?
—Tu ne sais même pas pourquoi tu me punis !
—Je sais qu’il y a quelque chose, et le plus tôt tu l’admets, le moins pire pour tes fesses…
—C’est pas du bon français ça, “moins p—” AIIIIE!
—J’attends ? »
Elle sent sa main qui se glisse sous sa robe, la soulève et la retrousse. Il tire sa culotte vers le haut, révélant un peu plus de ses fesses déjà meurtries. Elle ne dit rien. Si elle l’admet, ce sera pire. Il va se lasser… A fesses vaillantes, rien d’impossi—« AIIIIE ! Pas si fort…
—Bah attends, attends… Il va arriver, Godot, t’en fais p—AIIIIIIIE ! »
Bon, il est fâché… C’est pas une brute, d’habitude, mais sa main se fait lourde. Claque après claque après claque, ses fesses sont de plus en plus brûlantes, et sa volonté de moins en moins forte. Elle sent les larmes qui lui coulent le long des joues. Il fait une pause, prend la culotte par l’élastique et la baisse d’un geste vif. Elle serre les dents. Il attend un moment. Pour lui donner une chance, peut-être ? Ou peut-être pour admire son ouvrage. Les hommes et leur fierté, pfff…
La fessée est soudaine, et le répit vite oublié. Il accélère, lui laisse à peine le temps de reprendre son souffle entre les gifles, les larmes et les gémissements.
« Dernière chance, Julie, après c’est la brosse…
—Pas de mais ; qu’est-ce que tu as fait ? » Il ponctue chaque mot d’une nouvelle claque.
« Je… »
Il pause, la main levée.
« Oui ?
—Tu sais avec la Covid et tout…
—Ça fait longtemps qu’on a pas eu d’invités…
—Oui, et ?
—Non, Julie, non ! Non, non, non, non, non !
—Combien de temps ?
—Une… une semaine ? Peut-être un peu plus… ?
—Une semaine ??
—Mais je l’aime bien, moi ta mère… »