I make myself giggle
As I was finishing this commision for a client, I was looking through a dictionary of the Monachi language, spoken by the Native American Mon people that live in the Southern Sierra Nevada (yes, that is quite random, but I love learning about other languages).
Here are some words you should know 😉
cete or pihqo are buttocks
the clitoris is a kwyky
a pretty girl is a syjatyhmy
tyni’ is a master
pata-kwini means naked
hawa means to scold
And here’s an alternate version of the picture ^^
« C’est une blague ?
— Je rêve…
— Ne te fâche pas…
— Julie. Tu as vérifié quatre fois que tu avais bien éteint le gaz, trois fois que tu avais bien fermé la porte d’entrée…
— Je sais mais…
— Je t’ai demandé si c’était bon, non ? Tu m’as dit que tu avais tout.
— Oui… Je sais…
— Mais… Comment on peut oublier sa propre valise ?
— Ben oui mais… Entre la tente, le pique-nique, ta valise, les sacs de rando, les chaussures…
— Ah bah ça, ton sac de chaussures, tu l’as, mais pas l’autre, quoi…
— Je ferais bien un commentaire mais ça risque méchant…
— Oui, non, on va éviter…
— Tu m’agaces…
— Je sais…
— Non mais là, tu m’agaces vraiment…
— Je sais…
— Arrête de dire que tu sais, ça m’agace.
— Je… euh… Oui, mon chéri…
— Bon… On fait comment, maintenant ?
— Bah sinon, on peut faire du shopping, hein…
— Bah tiens, ça t’arrangerait bien…
— Te fâche pas…
— Ça fait quoi, deux heures qu’on est parti ? On va perdre quatre heures, quoi.
— Je s… Oui…
— Bah c’est super.
— On est pas pressé…
— Oh bah t’as raison, on va faire des tours de ronds-points pour s’occuper, aussi. Ça fera Disneyland.
— Arrête, s’il te plait…
— Tu m’énerves.
— Je ne t’agace plus ?
— D’accord… »
Il prend la sortie suivante et fait demi-tour. Silence. Elle allume la radio. Ça capte mal. Elle voit son regard furieux dans le rétroviseur à chaque craquement. Elle éteint.
« Tu veux de l’eau ?
— D’accord… Un biscuit ?
— Non, Julie, je ne veux pas de biscuit.
— Oui, mon cœur.
— Quoi ?
— D’essayer de m’amadouer.
— Je sais que tu es fâché mais bon…
— Mais bon quoi ?
— Ben j’ai pas fait exprès…
— Et ?
— Et rien… C’était pas pour t’embêter, quoi…
— Tu m’as dit que c’était bon. Il faut toujours que je passe après toi ?
— Mais non, mais… »
Elle ne dit rien de plus. Elle a les larmes aux yeux. Elle tourne la tête et regarde le paysage défiler par la fenêtre. Il ne dit rien non plus, la mâchoire serrée. Trente minute. Pas un mot. Une heure. Elle se retient de pleurer. Au moins, s’il l’engueulait, ça passerait vite, là, le silence, c’est pire que tout. Ça commence mal, les vacances. Il met le clignotant.
« On s’arrête ?
— Que tu dois d’accord ou pas, hein.
— C’est juste façon de parler…
— Je sais.
— Sois pas fâché comme ça… S’il te plaît… Je suis vraiment désolée.
— Rappelle-moi pourquoi on est parti tôt ce matin ?
— Pour éviter les bouchons…
— Et il va se passer quoi, maintenant ?
— On va tous se les taper…
— Je peux conduire, si tu veux.
— C’est bon.
— D’accord… »
Ils s’arrêtent sur une petite aire de repos. Il se gare à l’ombre et éteint le moteur.
« Bon. On va s’occuper de ta fessée.
— Quoi ?
— Tu m’as très bien entendu.
— Mais rien du tout.
— On peut attendre d’être à la maison, au moins ? S’il te plait…
— Non. On est à mi-chemin et j’ai besoin d’une pause.
— Ben justement, il fau te reposer, mon chéri… Ça va te fatiguer…
— Incline ton siège jusqu’au bout et allonge-toi.
— Non, s’il te plaît… Ça va se voir.
— Il n’y a personne, ça va.
— Ne me fais pas répéter ou ce sera sur le capot, bien visible, même de la route.
— T’oserais pas…
— Tu veux tenter ta chance ?
— Alors incline ton siège. »
Elle s’exécute, incline le siège et s’y couche tant bien que mal, les fesses un brin surélevées, offertes à ses douloureuses attentions. Il ne perd pas de temps et relève sa petite robe à fleurs avant de lui flanquer une première volée de claques par-dessus la culotte. Elle gémit doucement. La culotte se retrouve vite à ses genoux, pour le peu de différence qu’elle fait. Elle n’ose pas jeter un œil par la fenêtre pour vérifier que personne ne les voit. Les claques se font plus dures, sa respiration plus haletante. Elle ferme les yeux. Il continue, encore et encore, ses fesses, ses cuisses, il ne se retient pas.
Ils sont repartis. Elle gigote sur son siège, incapable de trouver une position confortable. Ses fesses brûlent. Bon, au moins il a allumé la radio et semble de bien meilleure humeur. Il lui en a promis une autre en arrivant à la maison. « Fichu pour fichu », qu’il lui a dit, « autant prendre notre temps, maintenant ». Quand ça l’arrange…
Two more laps, she was thinking. Two more lap and she would be done. She closed her eyes and exhaled, concentrating on her rhythm, her breathing. She could feel her heart beating fast, she could feel every muscle in her legs begging her to stop. Two more laps. Just two more.
She opened her eyes and gasped as she ran into the back of another jogger, making them both fall to the ground on the dew-covered grass.
“What the hell ?” she yelled as she got up, getting the grass off her small shorts. “Watch where you’re going, dumbass…”
He got up as well, he was tall, a good head taller than she was. Square jaw, dark hair, freshly shaven, grey eyes… Grey eyes that were glaring at her.
“You ran into me, lady”
She rolled her eyes and made a gesture with her hand.
“Whatever! Leave me alone, you creep.”
“Excuse-me ? Are you blind or something ? You hit me from behind !”
“Oh yeah, well I’m sure you’re used to that…” she said with a hauty smirk.
“Oh, so bratty and intolerant? Well you’re a treat, aren’t you ?”
She blushed instantly and looked down without even thinking, chewing her lips. She knew she had a temper, and sometimes the stupidest things would come out of her mouth before she even thought about them.
“Okay,” she blurted, “That was uncalled for…”
“Is that all?”
“What more do you want?” she said, aggressive once more. She didn’t like his tone. Patronizing and shit, who did he think he was, that Bruce-Wayne wannabe?
“An apology would be the least you could do?” he said in disbelief. What an arrogant brat, he thought.
She laughed. “Oh, the least I could do, huh? What, do you imagine I’ll blow you behind the bushes or something, you goddamn perv?”
He frowned and took a step towards her, pointing a finger
“That’s enough!” he said, menacingly.
She crossed her arms “Oh yeah? Or what? What are you gonna do, huh?”
“Obviously your parents never showed you what happens to disrespectful brats!”
She hesitated for a moment, and blushed under his glare. She felt a shiver running down her spine. Not only that but, looking at him, handsome, well built, and… very angry, she felt something else.
“W-what? You… You wouldn’t…” She felt very confused. How… dare he? How… Surely, he would not…
He didn’t answer and simply grabbed her arm and started walking her towards the bushes she had mentioned earlier. She barely protested. The thought that he would actually go through with it was ridiculous at best. She blushed as she realised she was imagining it. Her, draped across his lap, her bare bottom on display for him to punish like a little misbehaving brat… The sound of harsh slaps echoing through the woods… He would pause and caress her ass while she would sob and beg him to stop….
Her face was already as red as she’d ever been when he stopped and sat on a stump. He crossed his arms.
“Get your shorts off”
“What? Are you crazy?”
“You heard me. Get them off.”
She was twisting her wrists. She got a finger to her mouth and nervously bit her nail.
“I… I don’t think that’s appropriate…” She was losing all her countenance. There was something about the steely gaze, that stern look.
“You don’t think you deserve it?”
She looked down and wordlessly pulled her shorts down to the ground, then stepped out of them. She crossed her hand before her white knickers. He indicated for her to come over his lap. She did, tears already forming in her eyes. What was she doing ? What in the name of… *SMACK!* The first slap caught her totally off-guard, and she cried out as much in surprise as in pain. The next one wasn’t far behind, and the next one, and the next. Before long, heavy tears were rolling down her cheeks, and, just as she had envisioned, she was begging him to stop.
For a first time, he gave her the full experience. The panties came down, the slaps kept coming until he was certain that she had been properly chastised. Finally, he got her up and wiped the tears away with his thumb.
“I’ll be waiting for you here next Saturday,” he said, sternly. “If you haven’t behaved during the week, you’ll get another one. Clear ?”
She nodded. “Y-yes, Sir…” She didn’t know where the words had even come from, but she knew one thing: she would be there.
With a nod, he turned around and started running, leaving her to put her shorts back on, rubbing her bright red behind and wondering what she had gotten herself into. Her bottom was so warm she couldn’t believe it. As she stood there, rubbing it, she bit her lip and smiled. Well he was handsome, after all, maybe… Maybe she didn’t need to behave all that much…
By decree of his majesty the King, let it be know that Her Majesty the Royal Princess Adélaïde of France is to receive 30 strokes of the cane on her buttocks for her unruly behaviour during the reception with His Majesty Ferdinand VI, King of Spain.
Her father, His Majesty Louis XV, wishes it to be known throughout the Realm that he cherishes his renewed relations with the Crown of Spain and that none shall sully them.
The event will take place this coming Saturday in the Gardens of Versailles at three in the afternoon. Light food and refreshment shall be available for the honourable members of the court.
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…”
“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.
“S… Stop…” Claire panted, her face red with exhaustion. She bent over, putting her hands on her knees, and tried to calm her breathing.
The other woman turned around and came to her, still jogging. “What, now?”
“I… I just can’t go on!” she said, still catching her breath.
“Are you kidding? It hasn’t been half a mile yet!” the other woman frowned.
Claire kept looking down, biting her lips, tears forming already.
“No…” she said timidly, “I just can’t… I’m not fit at all, you know that.”
“Yes, I know, that’s why you hired me, Claire,” the personal trainer said, “I explained to you how we would proceed, yes?”
“You want to fit in your wedding dress, correct?”
“Yes… I do…”
“How much longer do you have?”
“F-Five weeks,” she stuttered.
“Five weeks,” the trainer repeated, “Do you think you’ll reach your goal in five weeks if you abandon after 600 yards?”
“But I can’t breathe! I’m exhausted already… I’ve tried, right? I’ll do better tomorrow.. I’m just a little tired, it’s early and—
“I don’t want to hear it,” the other woman snapped, and Claire was silenced immediately, “Again, we agreed on how things would go, Claire.”
She used her name as if she were admonishing a misbehaving little girl, and she felt shameful at the idea. She straightened up, her breathing a little calmer now. The blush on her round cheeks hadn’t receded, quite the contrary.
The trainer spoke again, “I guarantee you will fit in that dress in five weeks, but for that to happen, we’ll have to do things my way.” She pointed at a nearby bench. “Come with me.”
“No!” Claire protested, “You’re not really going to spank me…”
“You agreed to it, didn’t you?”
“No… I mean, yes but…”
“But what, Claire?”
“Do you want to fit in that dress or not?”
“Yes… of course I do…”
The woman took her by the arm and started to walk towards the bench, Claire in tow.
“Please… It’s… it’s right on the road… I… We can do it back home, okay?”
“Oh no, young lady” —there was that condescending tone again— “We’re not done running, we’re continuing right after I’m done here.” Her tone brooked no arguing.
Her eyes full of tears, Claire followed, shamefully. “Please… Somewhere out of the way… Please…”
Rolling her eyes, the trainer got them through a little bush and into a little clearing. It would hardly shield the noise, but at least they were out of view. There weren’t many people jogging at this hour, and even then, the lesson would all the more fruitful if someone happened to discover them.
Claire was sniffling, unable to contain the tears. The mere thought of her, a grown woman, being spanked over someone’s lap… It made her shiver. What an idiot she had been, what kind of trainer threatened to spank her trainees? Why had she accepted that at all? And yet… She really wanted that dream wedding, that beautiful dress, she wanted to do everything right and to look the perfect bride. She knew she should have tried harder.
The stern woman sat on a low branch, still holding Claire by the arm. She unceremoniously pulled the curvy young woman over her lap and started spanking her round, bouncy bottom over her tracksuits. The sound disturbed a couple of birds that flew away in a flutter. She kept on slamming her hand on Claire’s bottom, faster, harder, drawing out little cries of pain and shame.
Not daring to speak up, the young woman tried to keep her lips sealed. The noise was bad enough, her bottom was burning already. Tears were rolling down her cheeks. She finally let out a sigh of relief when the trainer stopped spanking her.
“I..” she started, then felt the woman’s hand on the belt of the trousers, grabbing them and pulling them down. “No no no no no…!” she pleaded in a tearful voice, “Don’t! Please! I’ll run! I’ll do everything you tell me to do; I…”
Her white, unflattering panties came down next, and she felt the cool morning air on her bottom and thighs. She broke down in sobs as the slaps rained down again, harder than before, on her sit spots, down her thighs, covering her large behind in red handprints. She begged with every breath, biting her lips, sniffling, crying.
After what felt like an eternity, the woman relented and ordered her up.
“Now,” she said in a more gentle tone, “we’re going to take it slow and we’ll go to the end of the planned run, all right?”
Claire nodded quickly, pulling her panties and trousers back up, too ashamed to speak. The woman thumbed a few tears away. “It’s always hardest the first day,” she said with a little smile.
“Yes ma’am,” Claire said in a tiny voice, rubbing her burning bottom.
As they came out of the bushes, the young woman still wiping tears off her cheeks, a jogger ran by with a wave.
“Hey Katia,” he said with a grin, “New client, huh?” Running on, he winked at a mortified Claire. She could feel the warmth in her derrière and pouted. No way she would be punished again, she firmly decided.
In fact, she was, but it was all worth it when, five weeks later, she stood resplendent before the priest and finally said “Yes”.