An interview…

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!

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A Royal Invitation

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.

24

Payback for Corinne

She closed the door to the chief’s office and sat in the offered seat. The desk was a mess of papers, pens, empty coffee cups and napkins. There was a plaque on display, it read : Capitaine Ballanger. He was looking at her, his fingers joined at the tip, his lips pursed in a moue of annoyance.

“Corinne, ” he said, “do you know why you’re here?”

The young policewoman shifted uncomfortably in her seat and scratched the back of her neck.

“I don’t know, monsieur, did something come up about the Durier case?”

“No, no, nothing yet, that’s not why I asked you here.”

“Oh,” she said simply and waited. The captain was a patient man, and he liked to take his time. He would get to the point eventually.

“There were… troubling reports about you, Corinne…”

“Troubling, monsieur?”

“Troubling indeed,” he said, and got up from his chair. He walked around the desk and went to the window overlooking the open space in which the policemen were all at their busy work. He closed the venetian blinds and turned back to her. She hadn’t moved.

“There were calls, quite a number of them,” he continued laconically.

“Calls? About what?”

“About a policewoman spanking a young woman on the roadside!” he boomed, “Apparently, you put on quite a show. Do you have anything to say about that, lieutenant?”

“I…” she hesitated, unsure what to do, “I don’t think hearsay is…”

“Heresay? Do you think twenty people coordinated to call us and invent such a tale?”

“Did that… ‘young woman’ call you? Was there a formal complaint, monsieur?”

He didn’t answer, raising one finger up. He went to his desk and pressed a button on his phone. “She’s here with me now, Vincent,” he said, and let go of the button without waiting for an answer. A few seconds later there was a tap at the door and one of her colleagues entered, a very familiar young German girl in tow.

“Now, Corinne, do you recognise her at all?” he said with a mock grin.

She bit her lip, blushing. The other woman didn’t seem much more at ease.

“What were you trying to accomplish, lieutenant? Start a diplomatic incident with Germany?”

“I think you’re over-reacting a little…” she muttered,

“I beg your pardon, junior lieutenant?” he said, frowning.

“But sir… she was speeding, she had no papers and…”

“Do you have any record of that? Did you file any report? Any paperwork?”

“No, I mean… Huh…”

“Did you see anywhere in the law that you could just… Spank people at will? Is that your vision of justice?”

She was silent, head bowed. The captain went on:

“Thankfully for you, mademoiselle Fischer here doesn’t want to fill any claim against you…

Corinne kept looking at the floor, nodding shyly.

“However,” the captain continued, “I thought it was only fair that she would be present for this.”

She raised her head up at him. “This?” she asked.

“You thought there would be no consequences?”

“I… I suppose an official reprimand in in order, Capitaine but…”

“A reprimand?”

“I…”

“You’re getting a spanking, just like you thought fit to give the lady here, ” he gestured to the other policeman in the room, “Vincent, leave us.”

“But… but…” the young lieutenant said, her mouth agape with incredulity. The blond German, Emma Fischer, couldn’t help a cruel little smile.

“Get up, Corinne,” the captain said as he moved to clean a portion of his desk. “I think you know how these things go!”

She slowly rose, panic numbing her. She had never thought she would end up on the receiving side of a spanking… Especially not like this, in her boss’ office, in front of a total stranger… Well, maybe she was a little more than a stranger, but the reversal made it all the more humiliating.

“Hurry up, Corinne, I have other matters to attend to,” the captain growled, and she lay her arms and torso upon his desk as ordered. The fabric of her standard uniform trousers stretched over over round bottom, leaving little to the imagination as unflattering as they were said to be. The blond German was offered a seat, and she took it, wincing a little as she sat down and made herself comfortable for the show that was put on just for her.

The captain put a hand on the small of Corinne’s back and pinned her down on the table. She clenched her teeth and sore she wouldn’t give that mademoiselle Fischer the satisfaction of any cries or moans. Her boss patted her plump bottom a few times and *SMACK!*, he gave her the first real slap. Instantly, pain exploded in her bottom, her eyes widened, her fingers curled up into fist. *SMACK!* another, right on the same spot, and then another, and one more, *SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK!*

There was barely a pause in between them, and she could feel the heat and pain building up. Then he switched side and *SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK!*, proceeded to give it the same treatment. Her legs were trembling already, and it was all she could do not to try and cover her bottom. She felt her cheeks blushing more and more as her bottom was covered in slaps going from side to side now, setting her bottom on fire and shaming her with each blow. Everyone in the precinct could hear it, she was sure of it.

“Is that what you did to mademoiselle Fischer, Corinne?” the captain asked, pausing a moment. She was breathing heavily, trying not to let the tears flow.

“I… Y-yes, monsieur…”

The other girl cleared her throat. “You didn’t let me keep my trousers on…” she said, crossing her arms over her chest. “That filthy little…” Corinne thought, but said nothing.

“Well?” the captain said, slapping her hard on her right cheek

“Aaaah! I…”

He slapped her again, on the left, harder.

“Ooow… It’s true, it’s true, I…”

“Right…” the captain nodded, “Trousers down, lieutenant.”

“But monsieur…”

“No arguing, Corinne, you know what you deserve.”

“Yes…” She closed her eyes and a tear rolled across her blushing cheeks. She got up with a moan of pain and undid her belt, put her equipment on the floor and slowly slid the trousers to the middle of her thighs. She had put on a simple white thong that wouldn’ t protect anything at all, and leave everything on display for the captain and their… guest… Her two large globes were a bright pink already.  He was quite a muscular man, and quite evidently didn’t hold up his slaps. She got back into position over the desk.

She had always been a little hot-headed and she could clearly feel he was enjoying putting her back in her place. He was a nice enough superior, always polite and understanding, he seldom raised his voice. But he was clearly angry this time. She could feel a tingle of excitement between her legs and buried her face in her hands, trying not to think of her intimacy on display, barely hidden behind that tiny thong.

The captain rummaged in a cabinet and she felt something hard and cold patting against her buttocks. Was that…

*WHACK!*

“OooooOOooow!!” She couldn’t help it. The paddle had taken her completely by suprise and God, it hurt

*WHACK!*

“Aaaaaaaaaaah!” she cried out, and tapped her feet on the ground, trying in vain to get the pain to go away. “Please…”

*WHACK!*

The captain was not holding back.

“Please mons—”

*WHACK!*

“Aaaaaaaaaaaaïe… Please, please…”

*WHACK!*

payback

The tears were streaming now, and all she could do was beg for him to stop. She held the position, knowing that it would only get worse if she didn’t.

*WHACK!*

She clenched her teeth and buttcheeks.

*WHACK!*

She closed her eyes, breathing heavily.

*WHACK!*

She could feel the warmth between her legs. She knew she was wet as a fountain. She had never felt so much pain and yet…

*WHACK!*

She moaned and cried even more. The German girl wasn’t missing any of it, she was rubbing her thighs together, one hand over her chest that was rising and falling quickly. She was blushing too, looking at the furious captain dispensing justice. There was something about those French uniforms…

*WHACK!*

“And that’s ten,” the captain announced.

Corinne was bawling over the desk and he got her up and led her into a corner of his office. She instinctively put her hands over her head, still silently crying. The captain was talking to mademoiselle Fischer. She didn’t listen or care, all she could feel was her poor, bruised, crimson bottom. Somehow, she wondered what it would be like to be laying over the captain’s lap… His hands falling rhythmically on her bouncy bottom… She had a little smile through the tears. It was just like her to think about that in her situation.

She heard the door open and close behind her. Papers being put away. Plastic cups falling in the bin. The captain was cleaning up his desk. Good, that meant she wouldn’t have to get back over it. But… Why did he have a paddle in his office?

In the thirty minutes that she spent in the corner, she had many such questions pop into her head. Vincent had come to talk to the captain, and Ludovic too. A third person had come as well but she hadn’t known who it was. Maybe Sophie? She knew that she would never hear the end of it now. Finally, the captain allowed her to put her trousers back on. She did so and turned around, biting her lip a little.

“I’m sorry, monsieur,” she said in a little voice.

He nodded. “Good. I hope you’ve learned your lesson today.”

She nodded back, “Yes, Capitaine Ballanger, I have…”

“Next time an idea like this pops into your head…

“Yes?”

“At least do it away from the public’s eye…”

 

Katia and the cheerleader

“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.

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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.

The maid

He had a little smile on his lips as he pounded her firm, round bottom with hard slaps. The constant rhythm of the spanking, her bouncy cheeks before his eyes, her little murmured moans, the silky panties under her old-fashion working outfit… He loved it all. The little, slender maid had only been working in the house for a few months, and already she had been dragged over his lap half a dozen times.

The vase she had broken this time was of no importance, really, it had been tacky and would easily be replaced. Nonetheless, he couldn’t pass up the opportunity to have her wiggle under his punitive attentions again. he wondered if she had done it on purpose. Did she enjoy it as much as he did ?

As he kept spanking her, her bottom turning a pale pink, then a darker red, then a bright crimson as he kept pouring spank after hard spank over it, he wondered still, not daring to ask.

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With a final hard slap, he told her to get up and go stand in the corner of the room, by the wide window. He sat on the bed, admiring her round apple bottom, the bright colour of it, the marks he had left on it. Still he wondered. He got up and came closer, hesitantly, picking up another vase form a nearby buffet.

“I would have to punish you even harder if anything happened to this one,” he said, handing it to her. She got her hands off the top of her head and took it delicately. The maid looked him in the eyes, tears drying on her cheeks, leaving black mascara marks.

She let the vase go.