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

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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!”

Caned

She looked back at me, her crimson bottom almost glowing in the subdued lighting. Tears were still rolling silently down her cheeks, even now that the sobbing had stopped.  She had her hands against the wall, her tender, round, and bruised bottom on display. The cane strokes had left clear marks on it, straights line on the curves of her buttocks, whiter at their center where the rattan had struck. I could almost still hear the dry, cruel crack of it against her pale skin, a fraction of a second before her cries of pain.

She had not protested when she had been told to bend over the back of the sofa, her hands flat on the cushions, her pale orbs high up in the air. She had shivered and moaned as I had caressed her with the cane —a prelude to the pain to come— but she hadn’t said a word.

The cane had risen and fallen again and again, coming down hard, criss-crossing her behind in fiery lines of pain. She was in tears by the second stroke, bawling by the sixth, stomping her feet in between each hard stroke in the vain hope that it would make the burn go away. She had clenched her cheeks, shut her eyes, gritted her teeth, and withered the storm like the good girl she knew I wanted her to be.

Biggirl

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

Laura’s exam

*SMACK!* the first slap fell and Laura cried out as her eyes watered instantly. *SMACK!* another, just as hard ; she clenched her teeth, moaning painfully as the next ten fell in a quick succession over her short skirt. Way too short, she thought as she lay across her teacher’s lap, the top of her stockings already peeking out from under the blue tartan fabric.

Laura had always been tall, and even now in college she was among the tallests in her class. That had gotten her some attention over the years but never had she regretted more than that morning as she was taking her final in a crowded room and thought herself safe from the eyes of her teachers.

She had thought she would get away with a little help sheet, just a few formulae to help her out. She had thought she wouldn’t be noticed. She had thought she would get away with it. She had thought wrong, of course.

As she was giving her work back, her teacher had taken Laura aside and informed her he would be failing her, and that she could try her luck again the next year. Her head bowed, blushing, tears in her eyes, she had begged quietly, tried to explain herself, promised she would do anything, but it was all to no avail.

Laura had decided to wait in the corridor until all the other students had gone, and had gone back inside to try her luck on last time. Her teacher and the other two that were helping him that day stared at her when she entered the room and walked to them. She couldn’t have been more ashamed —or so she thought at the time.

*SMACK!* the slaps continued to rain down on her barely covered bottom, pain and heat building up rapidly as her teacher scolded her for daring to cheat, having the nerve to ask for leniency, her skimpy outfit, everything. She cried more out of shame than out of pain, the thought of disappointing him even worse than simply failing her class.

He got her skirt up with a quick pull and instantly resumed her punishment, her little light-pink thong offering no protection at all. The two other teachers still hadn’t left the room, and were going to great lengths to go in every row and check that no student had forgotten a pen or an article of clothing, or anything really. She could feel their gaze on her long legs, her red, burning bottom. And still the spanking went on, harsh and unforgiving.

Her thong went down and so did the tears on her face, abundant now. She could feel the bulge in her teacher’s trousers as he continued berating her and slamming his palm on her already crimson behind. She couldn’t even understand what he was saying anymore, the pain overwhelming all her other senses. She moaned, loudly, she cried, she begged. Spank after hard spank rained down on her slender cheeks in a continuous shower, leaving not a single spot unblemished. It seemed to her it went on forever until, at last, he stopped.

otk10

He got her up from over his knees and pointed to the desk.

“I’ll give you one hour to retake the exam,” he said, and she nodded, sniffling and trying to wipe the tears off her cheeks. She didn’t dare rubbing her bottom for fear he would take her over his lap again.

“However,” he continued, “you will take it standing at that desk, with your skirt up and your…” he shook his head, “…thong down.”

She blushed. “But sir…”

“I’m not done!” he cut her, and got up, taking his belt of with metallic click, “You will be getting sixty strokes of the belt, one for every minute I give you.”

Laura felt a shiver go up her spine and her hand flew to her bottom. “I…”

“Last chance, miss Spencer. You can walk away and fail your exam, it’s all the same to me.”

Head bowed, she walked over to the desk. He got a fresh paper out of his briefcase and put it down before her. She assumed the position: bent over the desk, a pen in her hand and her throbbing bottom up. She could barely see the paper through the tears.

Her teacher got behind her, his belt held in a loop in his hand. He raised his arm high.

“Your test begins… Now!”

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.

otk8b

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.