Out for a jog

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.”

“But… No!”

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.

sports

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…

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Exchange student

“Stop!” she yelled, “Stop spanking meeeee!”

He didn’t. In fact, it only made him spank her harder. Left-right, left-right, heavy, punitive slaps. Her small bottom was bouncing and wriggling under his painful attentions, and tears were streaming down her face over her blushing cheeks.

“It’s not… oww!… it’s not fair!”

He said nothing, readjusting her over his lap and resuming the spanking impassively.

“I mean… Ooow! Stop!… It wasn’t that bad…”

He rolled his eyes and pulled her skirt up in a swift, sharp move. He couldn’t help but pause, not because of her outraged cries and pitiful attempts at getting her skirt back down, but rather mesmerised by the two perfect little pink globes he had revealed. She was wearing the smallest pair of panties —hardly any protection at all— and her fretting made her bottom wiggle and bounce in a most alluring manner. He lifted his arm up again.

 

39

Oooooow! How dare you! It was just— Oww!! It was just a little prank!”

He clenched his jaw at the memory, and slapped her tight bottom harder than ever. Just a prank… The nerves on this one…

“Okay… Okay! I’m sorry! It was… OoooOoow!!… just to welcome you… Ow, ow, oOOow! It’s tradition ! Don’t you have traditions like that in Europe?”

“Oh we have many traditions in Europe,” he said with a hint of an accent, “Most of which don’t involve humiliating other people…” he landed a couple more swats and went on:

“But first of all, the swastikas are really offensive,” he said, punctuating each word with a hearty slap, “And second of all, I’m not even German!”

Oow! But Europe…”

“Is a continent, not a country. Consider this your first lesson, the first of many!”

Diner with his boss

He had warned her once: “Watch your language, Nina.”

She had rolled her eyes and nodded. Yes she would, she was sorry. He’d heard it all before, but he wanted to believe her. He had invited his boss and her husband over, and he wanted her to make a good impression; a promotion was not on the table yet, but he wanted all the chances he could get. So Nina had been told to behave. So far, so good.

His boss was sat on the sofa, enjoying a glass of sparkling wine and enjoying a handful of almonds. Nina had gone to the kitchen to keep an eye on the roast and get another bottle of cava. He poured his boss’ husband a glass of red wine —finishing the bottle— and started talking about rugby. Scotland, he argued, was past due for a comeback and—

“Oh shit!” he heard coming from the kitchen with a loud noise of broken glass.

He blushed and excused himself immediately. He got to the kitchen, where Nina was squatting over the broken glass with a dustpan and a brush.

“What happened?” he asked

“What do you think?” she shrugged, “The fu… I mean, the glass fell, and it broke. It’s what tends to happen when glass falls…”

“Nina…” he warned “Watch your tone…”

She said nothing and pushed the last bits of glass in the pan, then got up to empty it in the bin. She adjusted her tight skirt and looked up at him shyly.

“I’m sorry…”

“It’s just a glass… But…”

She lowered her voice “But I’ll watch my mouth… Sir…”

“Good girl. You know what will happen if you don’t…”

They went back to the living room. and resumed the vacuous small-talk as if nothing had happened. The radio was on, some easy listening station, and a pleasant smell was coming from the kitchen.

He looked at her pouring herself another glass of bubbly and raised an eyebrow. She caught his expression and mouthed a “What?” while opening her eyes wide and shaking her head a little. She put the bottle down and emptied half of her glass in one gulp.

Distracted, he asked the husband to repeat what he’d just said when Nina spilled her glass all over her new, cotly dress.

Shit, shit shit!” she cried, immediately getting up and patting herself down. His boss was looking at him quizzingly. He got up.

“Come here, sweetheart,” he said, “Go to the bathroom, I’ll get you some clothes…”

She did as she was told and he followed her to their en-suite bedroom after apologizing profusely and making sure his guests had all they needed. He got in and closed the door.

“Nina?” he called, softly.

She came out of the bathroom in a tank-top and her panties. She was blushing and kept her eyes down.

“I… I’m sorry, Sir…”

He sat on the bed and beckoned her over.

“No… Please… Sir… Love… Your boss, they…”

“Don’t make me ask you again, Nina,” he said firmly, and with a little nod, she came and wrapped herself over his knees. He immediately grabbed her pink panties and pulled them up in a painful wedgie, revealing the little that they covered. The slaps fell, hard and relentless, and soon she began softly crying and whispering little “sorries” in between sobs. Her bottom turned pink, then red, then a bright crimson as he poured spank after spank on it. Mindful of his boss waiting and the roast about to be cooked, he stopped and grabbed her hair, bending her head backwards and whispering in her ear.

wedgie2

A few minutes later they were both back in the living-room, where no comment was made and the rest of the evening went by with no incidents.

A week later, he received an email from his boss, praising him for his people skill and how he knew how to handle troublesome elements. She praised him over the discipline he had been showing in his work, and the firm hand he showed in negotiation. She was offering him a promotion.

She had added a post-scriptum : Thank your lovely wife for the opportunity she gave me to appreciate your dedication.

The belt for Becky

Her bottom already crimson from the warm-up spanking over her master’s knees, Becky walked to the glass desk and put her hands on it as instructed, her legs slightly parted at her knees. Standing on the tip of her toes, she pushed her bottom up, a perfect target for what she knew was coming. The glass was cold to the touch under her palms, and she wished she could sit on it and cool her sore bottom.

She shivered; she hated the belt. She hated its burning touch, she hated how it made her cry out uncontrollably, she hated how it meant she had pushed him too far. He would not hold back, how ever few times he would strike her. She screwed her eyes shut as she heard her master’s belt buckle coming undone. He caressed her offered bottom with the cruel piece of leather. She softly moaned.

WHACK!

One lick for her attitude that day.

WHACK!

One for talking back.

WHACK!

One for unfinished chores.

WHACK!

One for snacking.

WHACK!

One for disappointing him.

WHACK!

One to make sure she learnt her lesson.

34

The babysitter

Daddy!” the little boy said with a giggle as the door opened, and he ran towards his very confused father. His equally confused mum came followed in and closed the door.

“James? Why aren’t you in bed?” she asked, worried.

James giggled and threw his arms up with a big , adoring smile. His father lifted him up in his arms after putting his own coat away, and began searching through the house for the babysitter. There was a half-eaten pizza still on the sofa, James’s toys were strewn everywhere, the TV was on, showing some cartoons. Jessica, the babysitter, was nowhere to be found.

“Jessica?” the father called, “Jessica, where are you?” There was no answer but a noise upstairs caught his attention. He gave the boy to his mother and went up the stairs immediately, at once angry and worried. Was it a burglar? Had something happened to Jessica? The lights were on in the upstairs corridor, the doors all closed.

He paused and listened. A giggle came out of the spare bedroom and he moved in closer to the door, quietly. Another giggle. His worries burned away, leaving only anger, and he almost kicked the door open. As he’d suspected, the girl was there, with whom appeared to be a very surprised young man.

“Oh my God!” Jessica screamed, startled, as her boyfriend tried desperately to pull his jeans up. The father spared him but a glance.

“Out!” he said, pointing a finger at him and then at the door. He was trying his best to keep his voice down so as not to worry his young son. “Out now!”

The boyfriend hurried himself out without a word, leaving Jessica on the bed, mortified, looking down at the floor.

“I…” she started, then closed her mouth, not knowing what to say.

“Yes?” he said with a glare, crossing his arms over his chest.

“I’m sorry Mr. Jones, I…”

“How old are you again, Jessica?”

“I… Nineteen, sir, wh—”

“And you think that leaving a four year old on his own in front of a TV is a responsible kind of behaviour? Do you think that’s acceptable? Is that what we pay you for?”

Her blush intensified and she mumbles a little “No sir…”

“What was that?”

“No, sir… I’m sorry…”

“Sorry… You’re going to be sorry. Come downstairs. Right now,” he said, and took a step back against the door, freeing the doorway. She blushed and chewed on her lip a little.

“Yes, Mr Jones… It’s just that… I…” She paused, “I’m not wearing any trousers…”

He sneered, “Don’t worry about that, Jessica, you won’t need them, believe me…”

38

What followed was a long, hard lesson taught firmly over Mr. Jones’ knees. Mrs Jones, having finally put James into bed, came back to scold her while the slaps continued to pour down on her already crimson buttocks. Tears streamed down her face as she cried pitiful sorries to no avail.

When her bruised cheeks were finally given a rest, she was sent to the corner of the living room and told that she would have to clean up all the mess that she had left with her red, punished bottom on display before she’d be allowed to get her trousers back. She did as she was told, still sniffling and rubbing her round buttocks until she was finally handed her jeans. She winced and moaned softly as she pulled the rough fabric over her tender behind.

She stood by the door, about to leave, her head bowed.

“I’m really sorry, Mr and Mrs Jones…” she said coyly.

“A lesson only has value if it’s learnt, Jessica,” the father said.

She unconsciously rubbed her backside with a pout. “I’ve learnt my lesson, sir…”

“We’ll see, Jessica. Be there at six next Saturday, no delay, understood?”

She opened her eyes wide and nodded forcefully, “Yes, sir!”

A letter

It had started very simply, with a letter. It was a simple, white envelope among all the others that had come that day. She had paid it no mind and it had sat on the pile of letters waiting for him when he got home.

The afternoon had been pleasant; she had baked cupcakes, spent an hour reading her favourite book for the tenth time, browsed Pinterest for a while in search of inspiration for her living-room decoration. Dinner had been simmering on the stove when he’d come home, filling the house with a delicious smell. Five minutes before he came home, she was waiting by the door, her hands behind her back, head bowed subserviently, as she knew she had to be.

He had kissed her, deeply, complimented her on the spotless state of the house, on the mouth-watering smell that came from the kitchen, and had asked her how her day had been. He was in a good mood, tender and loving. She had a happy sigh as she went and fetched him a drink.

Then he got to the letters. He opened the first one and his smile instantly turned into a frown. She came back from the kitchen with a glass of martini in hand and was about to say something when she saw the expression on his face. She froze.

“Ashley?” he asked, raising an eyebrow, “Can you explain what I’m looking at?”

“I… I… I don’t know, sir, wha-what is it?” she stammered, red in the face.

“It’s a very formal letter from our credit card company, Ashley.”

“Oh…” she said, her eyes widening.

“Maybe you’d care to explain to me how we are maxed out on it? I don’t remember any purchases lately?”

She bit her lip. “Well…”

“Well?”

“Well I was… I was on the internet and…” She was still holding the glass, and the ice cubes tinked as she shivered with dread. “I’m sorry, sir,” she tried.

“You were on the internet and what, young lady?” he said, getting up, the letter still in his hand.

“I might have… bought a few things?” Tears were gathering in her eyes and she bit her lip harder than before.

“That’s more than a few things, Ashley!” he yelled, holding the letter up to her face.

She started crying, “They were nice and… I didn’t want to wait for my birthday and…”

He pinched the bridge of his nose and exhaled deeply. He took the glass from her hand and gently set it down on the nearby coffee table.

“Well, whatever it is that you bought —handbag, shoes, tablet, believe me, I’ll find out—, you’re sending it all back.”

“No, ple…” she started.

“And!” he interrupted her, grabbing her ear like a scolded schoolgirl, “I’ll give you a taste of what you’ll be receiving every night for the next two weeks.”

“Nooo! Owww… Please!…”

Ignoring her pleading and muffled cries, he dragged her to the sofa and across his knees, pulled her jeans down and started generously slapping her round bottom, quickly turning it from creamy white to bright pink, and then from pink to a deep, warm red. She begged and pleaded at first, bawled her eyes out, then gritted her teeth, held tight to the sofa as her punishment went on.

33b

The food in the kitchen started to smell like burning when he finally relented, after he got a long, sincere and heartfelt apology from her in between her sobs. He pulled her jeans all the way off and sent her to save their dinner with a final slap on her bruised bottom. She would have to plan it better for the coming two weeks ; her evenings were going to be a lot less pleasant.

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!

garrus3