Khalisah al-Jilani, for those not familiar with the MassEffect series of games, is a journalist. And a damn annoying one at that, very hostile in her on-camera interviews with you, the protagonist, and always trying to paint you into a corner. She appears in the 3 first games of the series and never gets less infuriating… Ever since I first stumbled into her web of lies and deceits, I’ve been thinking that she deserved a good spanking… On camera of course!
She was nervously twisting her hair around her finger, pinching her lips, not daring to speak.
“So, Zoey, what is it?” her girlfriend asked, raising an eyebrow behind her glasses.
“I just…” she started, and then mumbled inaudibly. Her girlfriend, Sarah, passed a hand in her hair.
“You know you can tell me anything, right?” she said.
“Yes, I know… I…”
Sarah waited, not saying a word. It was the first time Zoey had seemed so hesitant to tell her something. Finally, she asked again, “Is something wrong? Did something happen?”
“No, no, nothing happened… It’s just…”
“I haven’t told you everything… about me?”
“About you? What, are you a criminal mastermind hellbent on world domination or something?” she laughed.
Zoey pouted, “I’m being serious…”
Sarah smiles and offered her hands up in apology. “All right, all right, tell me, then…”
Zoey took a deep breath “Iwouldlikeyoutospankmeplease” she said in one go.
“Wait, wait, what?” Sarah laughed again, “Said it again, slooooowly, all right?” She knew that the more nervous she got, the faster her little lovebird would speak, but this was something else.
“I… would like you to… hum… spank me…” Zoey said, looking down at the floor, her eyes wide open and unblinking. Sarah’s mouth opened a little as her own eyes widened.
“You… want me to… spank you?” she repeated in disbelief. Zoey blushed hard.
“I told you I didn’t tell you everything about me,” she mumbled.
“So, like… Is that a fantasy of yours?” Sarah asked. Zoey nodded her head vigorously, not daring to speak. Her girlfriend pushed her glasses up on the bridge of her nose and crossed her arms over her ample chest, smiling.
“I see… So… Have you been a very naughty girl then?”
Zoey looked up at her, tears filling up her eyes. “You… You don’t mind?”
She shook her head and looked at her lovingly, “Oh honey… of course not! Why would you keep that to yourself?” She beckoned to her, patting the sofa’s cushion by her side. “Come here…”
“Yes ma’am…” Zoey answered.
“I think that keeping thing from your loving girlfriend and making her worry is a very serious situation, miss…”
Zoey nodded again. “Yes ma’am, that was quite bad of me…”
“There’s only one thing to do then… Trousers and panties down, and get over my lap, young lady,” she said with a smile, unable to keep a stern expression too long. Seeing Zoey all blushing and melting with shame and desire was enough to send waves of heat up her core.
The jeans went down to Zoey’s knees and the panties followed suit ; she lay across her lap, expectantly. Sarah rolled up her sleeve. She wasn’t about to disappoint her little lovebird.
“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, 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, 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 even 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 here, 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 .
“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…”
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 as a tomato 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 had not 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 which were full of 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 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, 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, 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 lips, not daring to look up, not 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.
She was a good girl. That she had been told all her life. From an easy and cocooned childhood to a relatively uneventful time in high school, she had always been told it. Now in college, she still believed it to be true. A good girl, respectful of rules and elders alike. She had never felt any need to rebel against her parents, teachers, or society in general. Her hair had stayed jet black, long and straight, her olive skin unblemished; she liked her green eyes and her thin lips. She had grown into a lean, tall young woman, with round hips and breasts, she dressed like much of her friends, nothing too flashy or risqué, jeans, a lot, dresses, sometimes. She prefered one-piece swimsuits and listened to whatever was on the radio. She had played a little piano, because her parents had wanted. She had always been healthy and cared for, loved by her family and friends.
She was a good girl, conscious of her place in the world and appreciative of her luck.
Why then, was she bent over the lap of that man, her bottom up and defenseless against his unending waves of hard slaps ? *Spank! Spank! Spank! SPANK! SPANK!* It kept going from cheek to cheek, lavishing her round bottom with, all things considered, entirely unwanted attention. *SPANK!* They were consistently harder now *SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK!*, and she was blushing. Her buttocks clenched slightly between each hard slap, in the vain hope it would ease the pain.
Her lips parted slightly, and she moaned, blushing even more. Her eyes were full of tears, and some had already run down her face, leaving dark trails where her cheap mascara had run.
He kept spanking her, mercilessly, as she squirmed on his lap and dared not try to get away. She was… oddly captivated. Ashamed, angry, in pain, but captivated. The warmth she felt —SLAP! SLAP! SLAP!— wasn’t just that of her burning behind; she felt it spread to her belly, her crotch… Was it… Good? Did… *SPANK!* Did she like being punished like a misbehaving brat?
She realised that he had asked that aloud. She mumbled an unintelligible answer and received a volley of hard slaps on a single cheek for it. She cried out and moaned again.
“I… I’m not a…” *SPANK!*
“You’re not a what?” he asked, and spanked her again, hard.
“I’m not a brat; I… I’m a good…”
He never let her finished and directed his vengeful fury to her other cheek. *SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK!*
She bellowed in pain.
“AaaaaaaaaaAAhh… I don’t want… I… I DON’T WANT TO BE A GOOD GIRL”
Tears were running freely down her face now, and she sobbed as she continued,
“I… I don’t want… I don’t want to be boring…”
She felt the hand easing up, caressing her burning bottom in between slaps.
“Boring?” he asked, hesitating
“I… I’ve always been a good girl. The good girl. The good one. I… What am I? I… I’m boring, I’m bland… Would you pick me up in a crowd? Would anyone?”
She was still crying. He kept slowly caressing and massaging the target of his recent attentions. He said nothing.
“I want… I want a proper spanking…”
“What do you mean?“
“I mean one…” She bit he lip. “On my bare bottom… Like the ones I’ve read about…”
She didn’t think she had ever blushed as much.
“Oh, the ones you’ve read about, huh?”
He grabbed the top of her leggings and slowly slid them down, revealing her simple white polka-dotted panties and her pink, red-speckled bottom underneath.
“Maybe not such a good girl after all…” he grinned, and raised his hand.
She smiled. This was going to hurt.