Naughty Bottoms Get Spanked - NewsGuy

Naughty Bottoms Get Spanked
Jefesse
December 3, 2012

Contents
1 1. Naughty Bottoms Get Spanked 7
2 2. Alarm Clock 9
3 3. The Proper Care of the Wii Remote(TM): A Cautionary Tale 11
4 4. Night Patrol 13
5 5. Rear-ended in Spankland 17
6 6. Birchwood College Interview 21
7 7. Cathy’s First Time 27
8 8. Extra Credit 33
9 9. The Teacher is a Brat 39
10 10. Getting His Attention 43
11 11. Shorty and the Wild Girl 47
12 12. Acceptance 51
3

13 13. A Switching in the Wilderness 55
14 14. Megan’s Choice 59
14.1 Part 1. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 59
14.2 Part 2. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 63
14.3 Part 3. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 67
15 15. Second Chances 71
16 16. What Jen Found Out 79
4

Welcome. This document is a collection of a few of the spanking
stories I have written over the years. Enjoy!
Jefesse (http://web.newsguy.com/jefesse)
July 24, 2012 (Version 1.0)
This work is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-
NonCommercial-ShareAlike 3.0 Unported License.
5

Chapter 1
1. Naughty Bottoms Get Spanked
“What exactly does that mean?!” She flashed her eyes at me.
Defiance, or alarm?
“What it says. It’s a statement of principle: the patriotic duty
of every citizen to make sure that a sound spanking is applied to
each and every naughty behind, as often as necessary. Right now,
yours.”
“Ridiculous!” Her high-pitched whine said she was nervous.
“How can a ‘behind’ possibly be ‘naughty’? A child can be
naughty, a pet can be naughty. There’s no way that a body part
can be naughty, it doesn’t have feelings or intentions. That’s called
the ‘pathetic fallacy’. It’s completely invalid!”
“The only ‘fallacy’ is yours, my dear, as you’ll discover when I
turn you over my knee. Then you’ll know ‘pathetic’!”
I explained in simple words. “Your bottom is naughty. Its
smooth curves are saucy. Its roundness is impudent. Its quiverings
are brazenly insolent. Its unspanked state is highly impertinent.
No doubt about it,” I concluded, “your butt wants a whacking.”
She bit her lip. Her argument had gotten her nowhere.
She tried a new tack. “Have you heard about those Siamese
twins? You know, one was a criminal, but they had to let him free
7
because he was attached to an innocent man?”
“No, I have not.”
“Perhaps you haven’t noticed, but I am very attached to my
tushie.” She twirled around, put her hands on her knees, and wiggled
her cotton-encased derriere at me. “See, it goes everywhere I
go.”
“All I see is a pair of shameless bottom-cheeks, ripe for a good
smacking.”
She turned around quickly. “Don’t you understand? You can’t
spank my bottom, because then you’d be spanking me too. Even if
my rear deserves a smacking, I’m perfectly innocent, so you have
no right.”
“Oh, but I do have the right to spank you.”
“Why? Have I been naughty too?” she asked tremulously.
“Yes. But that’s not it.”
“What, then? What gives you the right?”
“Just the fact that I want to.”
“Oh, well then!” sarcastically. “I guess I don’t have a leg to stand
on, do I!”
This was clearly untrue, as she was standing on two very pretty

are legs, at the moment crossed most fetchingly. I’d have to punish
her for lying (another firmly held principle of mine) unless I
took action now. So I spun her around, flopped her across my lap,
fettered her ankles with cotton shorts and panties. Her creamy
white cheeks stared up at me, and I ogled back.
SMACK. “Ouch!” SMACK. “Hey!” SMACK. “Yow-ow-ow
ooooooh!” I applied three sharp slaps: left, right, and at the base of
her bottom. She clenched and unclenched her cheeks, and kicked
her heels high in the air, revealing the precious treasure between
her thighs. Shameless! It would take more to reform this delinquent
tush.
“It’s worse than I thought. What cheek!” I said while delivering
solid smacks to each naughty, quivering buttock. “Your insolent
bottom has earned itself a thorough blistering with the hairbrush.”
Luckily, one was handy.
“Oh, please, no!” THWACK. “OOOOOOoooh!”
8

Chapter 2
2. Alarm Clock
I entered the bedroom and looked at her, curled up among the
sheets and blankets. A shock of her hair fell over her mouth, and
moved ever so gently as she breathed in and out. She was a picture
of peaceful contentment. It seemed such a shame to wake her, but
I had to do as she’d asked me.
“Wake up, lovely girl,” I said. No response came from her, except
for the gentle puffs of her breath.
I nudged her. “Come on, get up.”
“Wanna jella donwana . . . ” she murmured.
I tickled her bottom through the sheets, and said, “It’s time to
get up. Right now.” She rolled over onto her back, and said, “Don
wanna. Sleepy. Goway dammit.”
I pulled the sheets out of her clutches, and stripped them away.
She laid there, on her back, in a light blue nightie that rode up to
the top of her thighs. She shivered just a little in the cool air; her
loveliness made my heart quiver.
“You are getting up now, young lady, whether you want or not.”
I took her delicate little feet in my hands, and lifted them high in
the air, revealing her beautiful bare bottom. I saw it still had a few
little pink splotches. I took a moment to admire the afterglow of
last night’s activities. I rested my palm on her buttock; last night it
9
had been warm, now it was cool to the touch.
“Whuh, huh?” she murmured drowsily. I grasped her feet with
my left hand, and bent her legs back over her head, while I delivered
a crisp smack to her pink bottom, now stretched out.
“Hey, stop it!”
I smacked her upturned bottom, paying special attention to the
curve at the top of the thighs. The light spanks were only just
enough to sting, but in her half-awake state they must have felt
like electric shocks.
“Oh! Ow! Omigod, that HURTS!”
“I’ve decided a nice little warm up is just the thing to roust you
out of bed, sleepy-butt!” I spanked just a little harder as I said this.
“You asked me to wake you up, and that’s what I’m doing.”
“Oooh, dammit! That’s not fair, I was about to get up. I was!”
She pushed and squirmed as my spanks brought the pink color
back to her cheeks.
“I don’t do ‘about to’, miss.” More spanks.
“Ugh. Fuck you, mister!”
I glanced at the bedside table. Yup, there was the 18 inch wooden
ruler I’d paddled her with last night. Twisting around, I was able
to grasp it without letting go of her feet.

She saw what I was up to. “Ooops, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean that.
Please?”
I gripped the ruler in my hand, and brought it down with a powerful
SMACK on her seat.
“Oooowwwwww! Uuuugghh.”
Five more times I whacked her taut bottom cheeks with the
thing. Each time she shrieked.
I put the ruler down. “Not a nice way to treat a fellow who’s just
trying to help out, is it?”
“Nuh uh, I guess it wasn’t.” I looked at her, and eventually she
came out with “I’m sorry.”
“It’s alright, you’re sleepy and confused,” I said generously, as I
let go of her feet.
“Yeah, that’s it.” She scooted into a sitting position, and blinked
hazily. “I’m not all together in the mornings, you know.” She put
her hand on her bottom, and winced. “And sheesh, that hurt like
hell. I don’t think that was really necessary, you know.”
“You should consider investing in an alarm clock, cutie-pie.
Much less painful way to wake up, you know.”
“Uh huh.”
“Oh, forgot . . . I brought you coffee.” I handed her the steaming
cup I’d put on the table when I came in.
“Oh! Yes! Wonderful! Why didn’t you say so before, you big
dork.” She clutched the warm mug in her hands. Closing her
eyes, she inhaled the aroma, and sighed. Then she took a sip, and
smiled. “Ah, I love coffee in the morning. Thank you.”
“You’re welcome, miss.” I let her take another sip, and take another
sigh. Then I extracted the cup from her fingers; she looked at
me quizzically.
“I’m not done with that, you know.”
“I know.” I put the cup on the table. “Big dork?” I said.
“What? . . . Oh, um . . . ” She chuckled nervously. “It’s better
10
than ‘little dork’, anyway.”
I grinned as I grabbed her feet and hauled her from her sitting
position until she was flat on her back again. “You are asking for
it, young lady.”
“Aw, come on!” she exclaimed as I lifted her feet again. “I think
you’re enjoying this way too much.”
“Nope. There’s nothing to enjoy about punishing such lovely
flesh.” Her bottom was exposed again, so I spanked it again. Repeatedly.
“Aaaah, ouch!” Smack. “Owowowow!” Smack. “Beast!”
Smack. “Ugh. I HATE mornings.”
That made me smile. “And I LOVE mornings!” I said. And
then I spanked her until her bottom was hot and red, and she was
squealing.
“Are you awake yet?” I asked when it was over, holding her
close.
“I am now, you bastard.” I kissed her.

Chapter 3
3. The Proper Care of the Wii Remote(TM): A Cautionary
Tale
Hello. My name is Shannon, and I am writing this letter to Video
Gamer Monthly to alert your readers to the possible consequences
of mistreatment of the remote controllers for the Wii.
Earlier today, my husband and I were playing a spirited round
of “Rampage: Total Destruction”. At first I had great fun punching
out windows, body-slamming cars, and eating random pedestrians.
But after a while, I soon became frustrated with my inability
to make my character go exactly where I wanted him too. Eventually,
I was surrounded by a SWAT team and a tank, and try as
I might, I could not get in position to take them out with a well
placed slam. My character died, and I was furious. I am a woman
who has a problem with losing her temper, so you may not be surprised
to hear that in frustration I hurled that controller against the
wall behind the TV.
My husband got up to retrieve the remote. It did not look damaged,
but after some testing he determined that the controller was
busted, and would need to be replaced. I told him I was sorry, and
promised to pay for a new controller; he replied that I certainly
would pay for it. I did not immediately understand his tone of
11
voice, nor did I immediately understand why he pulled the wrist
strap of the broken controller around his wrist and tightened it.
When he unbuttoned my slacks, and pulled both them and my
panties down to my ankles, I began to realize what he intended.
He directed me to stand in front of the sofa, bent over with my
elbows and upper arms on the seat cushion, so that my now bare
bottom was pointing up in the air. He then proceeded to wallop
my behind with that broken controller, until my bottom was very
pink and sore, and he was sure that I was very sorry.
I am now sitting, pants and underwear still down, my bare bottom
in contact with a rough wooden bench, as a continuing reminder
of my punishment. I have to admit that I deserved it.
My husband has directed me to write this letter to warn other
game playing wives of the consequences of mistreating the game
equipment, which can be very painful indeed. He’s going to be
keeping the broken remote, and has promised me he will use it in
the future to blister my bottom whenever my temper gets the better
of me! Hopefully, I’ve learned my lesson, and I won’t get spanked
again; but knowing my temper, I think it’s likely my bottom will

e having a painful reunion with the Wii Remote again in the near
future.
12

Chapter 4
4. Night Patrol
“Car 15, we have a report of a 523 in the Elm Park district. You
should have location info on your readout. Do you read?”
Mike hit the button on his communicator. “A 523, copy, will respond,”
he said. I examined the street address which had appeared
on the on the info screen — this report was just around the corner.
Mike massaged and flexed his forearm, wincing as he did so. It
had been a grueling patrol tonight, and Mike had dealt with the
shoplifter call earlier.
“You want me to take point on this one?” I asked. “Yeah, Bob,
thanks.” Sirens blared, as our E.S.S. patrol car sped to the next call.
I knocked on the door of a modest house. The door opened a
crack, and brown eyes peered out.
“Sally Johnson? Officers Spencer and McDermott of the E.S.S.,
ma’am. Please open the door.”
The door opened, to reveal a young woman. Appeared dressed
for bed, in shorts and tank-top, bare feet. A look of alarm in anticipation
(or was it fear?) in her face. “Um, yes, I’m Sally . . . come
in,” she said.
13
I entered the apartment; Mike followed and shut the door behind
him. Sally backed away nervously (and no wonder).
I did all the talking. “Ms. Johnson, I expect you know why we’re
here.”
“Um, I don’t know, sir.” I really like it when they call me sir.
I looked into her eyes; she looked away. “Ma’am, I am very sure
you know what brought us here. We received a call about some
very bad behavior on the part of a young lady, identified as one
Sally Johnson of Willow Street. From what we heard, it sounds like
Miss Johnson has been getting into a great deal of trouble, and is
due for some well-earned punishment. I don’t think I need to get
into specifics. Do I, Ms. Johnson?”
She looked away shyly; she did not want to have her recent indiscretions
described to her. After a little while, she said “Um, no.
You don’t have to do that.” Eyes down. “I know I haven’t been
behaving well lately.”
Using my best stern father voice, I said, “Sally, you’ve been behaving
like an obnoxious little brat, and you know it. That is going
to stop right now, isn’t it young lady.”
“Um, yes sir, it will. I promise.” She looked at me with plead-

ing eyes, as though she might hope to avoid what came next. Not
much chance of that!
“Ms. Johnson, in my determination as an officer of the law, you
deserve to be soundly spanked on your bare bottom, until you are
a very sorry girl. Mike, do you agree?” Mike nodded.
I glanced around her modest apartment, and decided the bedroom
was the best place. “Ms. Johnson, please go to the bedroom,
remove your shorts and anything underneath, and stand beside
the bed.”
“What? Right now? Can’t we wait a little bit?”
I raised my eyebrows, but said nothing.
“Please don’t, I promise I’ll be good!”
“Ms. Johnson, I will not ask twice.” I placed my hands firmly on
her shoulders, turned her around, and marched her in to the bedroom.
Mike followed, and stood in the door, blocking any escape.
We reached the side of the bed, and I turned Sally around to face
me. As her mouth opened to protest, I said, “Ms. Johnson, officer
McDermott and I are not leaving the premises until you are properly
and thoroughly punished. Begging and pleading will only
make things worse. Do you understand?”
“Uh huh.”
In a softer voice, I said, “Then get your pants down, young lady.
You know you deserve this.”
With a sigh, she pushed her shorts down over her hips, and they
fell to the floor around her feet. I sat at the edge of the bed and
guided the naughty lady across my lap; I was not surprised to find
a round, spankable bottom presented to him. I rested my hand on
her fleshy backside, and she gasped.
Without giving her a chance to compose herself, I began spanking.
Firm smacks to each cheek, hard enough to sting, but not hard
enough to make her scream. That would come later.
SMACK! SMACK! “Oh, please, sir! Oh, owee!” SMACK!
14
SPANK!
After a few minutes of this, I nodded to Mike, who extracted a
hairbrush-sized wooden paddle from his holster, and handed it to
me. “Think you’ve had enough, Sally?” I asked.
“Oh, yes sir, I have. I’ll be a good girl, I promise!” she gasped.
“Really?” And with that, I applied a quick CRACK CRACK to
each cheek with the paddle. She didn’t know that was coming!
“OOOOOhhhhh! Aaaaaghh!”
“Ms. Johnson, your punishment has only just begun.” And with
that, I proceeded to smack her backside soundly with the paddle,
CRACK CRACK CRACK! She squirmed, and kicked her feet, and
wailed like the naughty girl she was; out of the corner of my eye, I
could see that Mike was amused by the show.
“Oh, please stop! Oooh! It’s not fair . . . ” CRACK CRACK!
“Oooweee!”
I continued paddling for a few minutes, until Sally’s bottom was
bright red. Then I stopped, and let her catch her breath. Then I
said, “Please stand up.”
I helped her stand up, and she stood there unsteadily and put
her hands on what was surely a very sore tush.
”Ms. Johnson, that completes your punishment we came to administer.
I hope you’ve learned your lesson, young lady.
“Oh, yes sir, I have,” she said. “But it’s not fair that you spanked
me with that paddle thing! I thought you were only going to spank
me with your hand.”
“You did, did you?”
“Yes! That wasn’t what I expected!”
“Ms. Johnson, have you ever had a visit from an E.S.S. team before?”
“Um, no.”
“Were you aware, Ms. Johnson, that the form and duration of the
punishment is entirely up to the administering officer, and that the

punishee has no say in the matter once the punishment begins?”
She looked dismayed. “Oh. I didn’t realize that.”
“I wonder if you are also aware, Ms. Johnson,” (I glanced at
Mike, who began to remove various holsters from his belt) “that
the punishee is not permitted to complain about the nature of her
punishment, while it is happening?”
“No?”
“And that officers are required to supply additional punishment
if such behavior should occur?”
“WHAT?!!!”
“Your additional punishment will be ten strokes of the belt,
Ms. Johnson.” (Actually, though our regulations do say we have
to give additional punishment, the amount is entirely the officer’s
choice. Twenty whacks with a wet noodle would satisfy the requirements.
But it seemed to me that Sally needed a bit more.)
I forced Sally down over the edge of her bed, and lifted the hem
of her t-shirt to make sure her upturned bottom was clearly visible.
Mike removed his belt and handed it to me. Sally made an effort
to stand up, and I pushed her back down on the bed; Mike sat on
the bed and held her wrists to keep her in place.
“Oh no! Please, I didn’t meeeeeean it. Please?” she wailed.
“Ten strokes of the belt, Ms. Johnson.” And with out a pause,
I delivered. CRACK CRACK CRACK CRACK CRACK. CRACK
CRACK CRACK CRACK CRACK. She bucked and squirmed, but
could not escape the searing pain of leather on bottom.
I stood back, and observed the girl, now sobbing and whimpering.
I nodded to Mike, who let go of her wrists; instantly, they went
to her backside, to try to rub out the sting. I handed the belt back
to Mike, and he put it back on, and then restored his paddle and
cuff holsters.
“You may stand up now, Sally.” Slowly, she pushed herself off
the bed. She made to bend over and pull her pants back up, and I
15
stopped her.
“We’re not quite done yet. Some time in the corner for you,
miss.”
“Oh!” But she didn’t complain this time; clearly, she was learning.
I held her upper arm, and made her waddle over to the corner
opposite her bed. “Hands behind your back, Ms. Johnson.”
I pulled a small device out of my holster, and took a few minutes
to set it. It made a distinctive .
“Ms. Johnson, did you hear that sound?”
“Um, yes sir.”
I placed the device on a dresser, and pointed it towards her. “You
will stay in that corner until you hear that sound again. The device
has a camera, which is being monitored by our staff at headquarters.
Any attempt to leave that corner before your time is up will be
seen. If it’s determined that you left the corner for any reason other
than an emergency, you will be taken down to the station and dealt
with there, where they have ways to punish you that will make
what just happened here seem like a picnic. Ms. Johnson, you do
not want that to happen, do you?”
“Oh, no sir!”
“Good.” I gave her exposed bottom a SMACK, just to emphasize
the point. “I’ve left a mailing envelope. When you’re done, put the
camera in the envelope, and drop it in a mailbox. Got that?”
“Yes sir.”
“Don’t forget. Or you will end up at the station.”
I stood close to her, and said softly, “Sally, do you feel properly
spanked now?”
“Oh, yes sir, I do!”
I turned to walk away, but she continued: “And thank you, sir,
for getting here so soon after I called. I was so desperate, I needed
this so bad. It’s been so long since I had a good spanking . . . ”

I smiled. “It’s no problem, Sally, that’s our job. You know the
Emergency Spanking Service motto: ‘To punish and to serve’.”
“Mmmhmm.” And she smiled back to me.
Mike and I returned to the patrol car. I had that warm feeling
after a job well-done, and a deserving citizen soundly spanked. On
the readout, I saw a request for a responder for another call. “Oh
boy, Mike, it’s a sorority house. And it looks like we’re closest.”
It had been a long night, and it wasn’t over yet. I started the car,
switched on the siren, and drove to our next call.
I love this job.
16

Chapter 5
5. Rear-ended in Spankland
CRASH-BAM!
I’d been rear-ended. By a big old station-wagon. I pulled over to
the side of the road, as did the culprit.
I got out and inspected the damage. The rear bumper was partially
crumpled. Dammit! I bet this would cost a lot. Hoped my
insurance would cover most of it.
As I mourned over my poor fender, I sensed the presence of
someone standing behind me.
“Oh, I’m so sorry! It was entirely my fault, sir. I should have
been paying attention.”
I turned around. The speaker was the driver of the car which
had done all the damage. A woman. Very pretty I thought she
was, with a childlike face and an artless manner, which were now
accentuated by her obvious concern and remorse. She was dressed
in a short summer dress, which fluttered gently in the soft, cool
breeze.
I found it difficult to be too hard on such beauty; unfair, I know.
“That’s alright. It could happen to anyone, miss.” I put my hand
lightly on her bare shoulder to comfort her. I could feel her tension.
“You can call me Susan. And no, it’s not alright! I really should
17
have been paying attention to the road. Instead, I was daydreaming.
Watching the clouds in the sky rather than the cars in front of
me. Please sir, I deserve a sound spanking.”
I’d been living in Spankland for almost a week, so I was not
taken completely by surprise by her request. (I wasn’t exactly prepared
for it, either!)
The company I work for had decided to set up a branch office
here in Spankland, and I was sent to manage it. I expected to spend
several years here at the least, and I had done some research. The
inhabitants of this bucolic country still live by the old traditions,
and had many strange customs. One of those was a tradition of
corporal punishment. Aside from its use for the discipline of recalcitrant
criminals and naughty children, spanking is used here to
settle civil disputes.
In fact, it is a long standing custom in Spankland, that whenever
one citizen feels the need to confess a fault, apologize for misdeeds,
or show remorse or contrition to another, the proper way to do it
is to offer up their bottom for punishment! They do this willingly,
and are proud of their tradition; they see it as one of the reasons
their nation is still peaceful and their people are warm and friendly.

Spankland is the home of “few lawyers and many sore bottoms”,
as their saying goes.
That was the theory, as I understood it. It seemed like I was now
going to have the opportunity to put the theory into practice with
the errant lady before me. This was the first time I’d been asked
to punish someone, and I didn’t want to insult this young lady by
refusing. I was willing to punish her – “when in Rome . . . ,” as they
say – but I was unsure of the protocol.
“Um, I’m really just a newcomer here,” I confessed. “I’ve never
done this before. Um, do you think you could just give me some
idea of what would be appropriate, miss?”
“Oh, certainly!” Susan grinned at me, and seemed to relax a
little. ”I already know that you’re from foreign parts; it’s a small
town, and word gets around. Let me give you some pointers.
”First of all, the choice of punishment is entirely up to you. I
have no say in the matter at all, after I ask for it. You should feel
free punish me until you think that justice has been served.
“But I’ll tell you what I would do, if it were up to me.” She
looked down at her feet. “I was reckless and negligent, and my
actions caused expensive damage to your car. I realize I deserve
severe punishment.” She hesitated, and looked at me for a minute.
“I see that you are wearing a thick leather belt. I think, sir, that you
should arrange me face down over the hood of your car and apply
a sound strapping to my bare bottom.”
I was shocked. “Out here in the road? In public?!”
“Oh yes! It’s the only way to make things right.” She blushed
a little. “It is terribly embarassing whenever I have to expose my
bottom and privates to anyone who looks on; or in this case, to all
the oncoming traffic. People will slow down to take a look, and in
a small town like this where everyone knows everyone, I can look
forward to being greeted with questions like ‘So, how does your
bottom feel?’ for the next week or so.”
18
She looked into my eyes. “But I need to show you that I’m feel
truly sorry for what I’ve done. And I’ve always said that negligent
drivers are a menace to themselves and to others, and they should
be made an example of. I can’t make an exception for myself, can
I? Besides, it could be worse.”
“How worse?”
She giggled. “Well, once I got in big trouble. You see, I was
attending a play with some friends, and I couldn’t help but make
comments on the bad acting and the silly costumes. Well, I got to
be pretty loud and boisterous. Eventually, they just stopped the
play, and I was carried up on stage, bent over a stool, and given
a sound caning in front of 300 people. You should have seen the
theatrics I made! Then I had to remain on the set until the end of
the last act. I was made to stand at the corner of the stage with my
back turned to the audience and my panties at my ankles; everyone
got to watch me wiggle my punished bottom when they got bored
with the regular drama.”
She rubbed the seat of her skirt, remembering. “That was the
only time I was in the limelight, and I tell you, it’s not an experience
I care to repeat! An old-fashioned strapping-in-the-service-lane is
nothing compared to that.”
“Hmm. It sounds to me like this won’t be your first roadside
spanking. Should I take that in to account?”
She put her hands behind her back, and stared at her toes again.
“Um, yes sir. This is the third accident I’ve been responsible for
this year. I need you to teach me a lesson I won’t forget.”
There was nothing to say after that. I motioned with my hand
and Susan glided to the front of my car. She placed her hands
firmly on the center of the hood and lowered her body onto the
still-warm metal. As she pressed her belly and breasts onto its surface,
her skirt rode up, exposing bare thighs and a pantied bottom.
Knowing that the moment of truth had come, I whisked those

panties right down to her feet. I was dazzled by the sight of a
perfectly round bottom exposed to the light of day. She arched
her back to present her upturned target to the ministrations of the
strap, while pressing her legs tightly together. It was a beautiful
sight: wide hips and round orbs, and shapely legs tapering down
to small, elfin feet.
After a few moments I recovered my wits, and considered the
task at hand. It was hard to bring myself to punish such beauty, no
matter how necessary it might be.
I think she knew that I was hesitating. “Sir, I need to be properly
punished. Please don’t be afraid to lay the strap on long and hard.
We Spanklanders are used to taking it.”
I still stood there, transfixed. She turned her head to look back
over her shoulder at me. “Sir, please think about what I did to the
rear-end of your car while you deal with mine.”
That brought me back to the present. I remembered the accident
and the state of my vehicle, and decided that this lady, sweet as she
was, needed a strong dose of the strap-medicine to set her straight.
I slowly unbuckled my belt. She heard the CLINK of the buckle,
and shivered.
I bent the belt over, and pressed it together between my fingers.
The leather was smooth, but tough and hard.
I gave her no warning. THWACK. I applied the stroke to the
center of her bottom, not using my full force. A thick red line soon
appeared on each of her cheeks.
THWACK. Another stroke, lower down. The pain made her
stand on tippy-toes for a second, but she was soon back down,
in place for another stroke.
CRACK-THWACK! I delivered several dozen more strokes in
succession. I enjoyed the resilience of her quivering bottom-flesh
under the impact of the strap. She began to gasp after each one,
and was soon crying out “Ouch!” and “Oooh!” each time. She
19
began to pump her feet and thighs, and to twist her torso to one
side or the other, involuntarily. It seemed as though her bottom
was floating and bobbing in the soft breeze of the afternoon.
I stopped suddenly, and asked her how she felt.
“Oooh, sir, it huuurts, it huurts! Oooooooh!”
“It’s supposed to hurt, isn’t it?”
She composed herself a little. “Yes sir.”
“Do you feel you’ve had enough?”
“Oh yes, I certainly do! I’m so sore.” She wiggled her reddened
bottom at me, as if to direct my attention to the sore spot.
I was not entirely convinced by her protestation. I knew she was
a Spanklander, and was probably used to much worse. I said so.
“I don’t think you’ve had nearly enough, my girl. That was just a
taste of what’s to come.”
I laid in to her again, hard, with my full strength. The
THWOCKs and CRACKs of my doubled-up belt began to have an
affect on her. She began to sob and moan, and to wriggle and kick
her legs out behind her.
SPANK! “Oooooh! It stiiings.” CRACK! “Oooh, oh please, sir!”
THWACK! “Oooh, sir, I’m sorry, oh!” SMACK-THWOCK!
I continued the punishment, and she continued to bawl and
writhe her legs while I tanned her reddened buttocks.
After a while, a car drove by and slowed to a stop next to me.
The window slid down and a man looked at the scene.
“Nice work, stranger!” he said. “Sis has been wanting a good
lickin’ coming to her for a while now. Don’t let up ’til she’s begging
for mercy. Hey Suzy! You stay right there ’til this nice gentleman
has leathered your backside good, do you hear?”
Her brother’s appearance had made me stop for a minute, and
gave her a chance to recover her breath. “Oooh. Yes, Dan, I will. I
promise.”
The young man drove off, apparently unconcerned that a total

stranger was roasting his sister’s rump. “Susan, I can stop now
if you can’t take anymore,” I offered, not feeling as strict as her
brother.
“Oh, no sir!” she whimpered. “I – I can take it, sir. I won’t wimp
out.”
I continued with the punishment. As the belt bit into her bare
bottom, she squirmed and squealed, but to no avail.
At one point, another car drove by. It contained a couple, man
and woman. As it slowed down to allow its occupants to observe
the action, the woman flashed a “thumbs-up” sign at me.
At long last, Susan’s bucking and writhing subsided, and she
became like a whimpering sack of grain. I decided to end the punishment
then.
“Susan, the strapping is over.”
She immediately reached behind her and pressed her palms on
her stinging flesh. “Oooch!” she said.
“None of that, Susan! Hands down, naughty girl.” She immediately
complied, returning her hands to the hood of the car. “Your
strapping is over, but your punishment is not. You are going to
stay right there and let your bottom cool in the breeze until I say
so, and you can think about the lesson you’ve learned while you’re
at it!”
“Yes, sir,” she whispered into the hood. I let her chill her raw,
burning flesh for ten minutes. She wriggled and squirmed involuntarily,
as the bitter breeze tortured her burning behind with it’s
sudden gusts.
Eventually, I told her, “It’s all over now.” She raised herself
slowly from the car, and pressed her hands to her behind, not yet
covered by her skirt. I thought she would not be able to speak to
me for the shame, but apparently Spanklanders are raised to be
polite. “Sir, thank you for spanking me,” she said. “You did a
magnificent job. You could’ve been a born Spanklander.”
20
“Susan, are you sure I wasn’t too harsh with you?”
“Oh no sir! That was just what I needed. I’ll remember this for
weeks!” A sly grin appeared on her face. “If I don’t, I might need
to have another ‘session’ with you.”
I could see that she was in no condition to drive home, and I
offered to take her to her house. She agreed readily. As she started
to walk to the side of the car, she stumbled, and blushingly realized
that her panties were still bunched around her ankles. She kicked
them off and stuck them in her purse. “My bottom’s much too sore
for panties right now,” she explained.
I drove to her house. She spent the trip curled up in the back
seat, keeping her bottom away from any hard surfaces.
When we got there, she said, “Let me ask you to come in for a
drink. After all the hard work you’ve done, you could use one, I
bet!” She winked at me. As I entered in front of her, she closed the
door behind me, and then she . . .
But that’s a story for another day.

Chapter 6
6. Birchwood College Interview
”So there I was, bent over the edge of my bed with my nose
buried in the sheets and my skirt lifted up above my waist and my
panties bunched up somewhere down there around my ankles and
my bottom pushed right up towards the ceiling because of the big
pillows under my tummy, and my poor posterior was just itching
because I could just imagine that thick, meaty strap that Daddy
was holding whooshing down onto my bare bottom. Daddy made
me stay there for it seemed like a couple of minutes before he began
the spanking – he always does that, says it’s to give me chance
to ‘think about what’s going to happen, and why it’s going to happen’.
And boy, was I thinking about it! It’s always hard to keep still
for a long stretch of time, and it’s especially hard when you’re really
tense and expecting to get your bottom smacked, and especially
difficult when you know you deserve a really good sound thwacking
and you’re just a few minutes from getting one, and eventually
I started fidgeting and pumping my legs up and down and squeezing
and unsqueezing them together, like you do when you have to
go to the bathroom really bad. I guess I was doing that so much
that Dad had to warn me to stop it, or my punishment would be
worse.
21
”Well, I didn’t really want it to get worse – or so I thought – so I
tried as best I could to be as quiet as a brick. Eventually, Dad said,
‘Jenny, do you understand why you are getting this spanking?’
”I told him, ‘Yes sir, I do.’
”Then he asked me, ‘Jenny, do you have anything you want to
say before we begin?’
“He always asks me that before I get punished. Gives me a
chance to plead my innocence; Daddy is always fair. I felt a flutter
in my tummy, because I knew somehow that I was going to regret
what I was about to say. I thought about it for a second, and decided
I had really better tell the truth this time, so I said, ‘Just that
I’m really sorry for what I did, and even more sorry for lying about
it. You put so much trust in me, and I really let you down this time.
I don’t know how you can ever forgive me. I . . . I think I deserve
a really severe p-p-punishment. I realize its got to be much worse
than anything I’ve gotten before.’ Then I screwed myself up for a
minute, and said ‘I think you should double the p-p-punishment,
at least. It’s really only a tiny bit of what I deserve.’ ”
“Did you think you would get some sympathy from your Dad
by playing the penitent?”

”Oh, not at all! Dad takes discipline very seriously, and so do
I. I knew that if I asked for a more severe punishment, I would
probably get it. Well, if he really felt I didn’t deserve any worse, I
wouldn’t get it, but I was pretty sure that this time he wasn’t going
to feel too lenient. He said, ‘You’ve certainly earned it. But Jenny,
are you absolutely sure about this? Forty-eight strokes of the strap
is an awful lot; I’ve never given you more than half that many before.’
”I couldn’t see his face; remember, all I could see were the blankets
under my nose. But I could tell from the tone of his voice that
I could still ‘withdraw’ my ‘application’ for a really severe whipping,
if I wanted. But I said, ‘Dad, I’m sure about this. I’ve really
got it coming. Please don’t let me off lightly.’
”‘Very well, Jenny,’ he said, ‘forty-eight it will be, if you feel you
need it. And you know I have no intention of letting you off lightly.
You are going to feel every stroke.’ I could hear little taping noises;
that was probably Daddy testing the strap against his palm. Then
he said, ‘Remember, Jenny, moving out of place means extra swats.
Tell me when you’re ready to start.’
”When Daddy says I’ll get extra swats if I move, I know from
experience he really means it! Once when I was about 12 years
old, I was over Daddy’s lap getting a few swats over my jeans for
saying a curse word, and I got kind of mad and pushed myself
off his lap and onto the floor. Boy was that a mistake! Almost
before I could realize how much of a mistake, I found myself back
over Daddy’s lap jeans-and-panties-down, getting my bare bottom
blistered by the hairbrush. To this day I have no idea how Daddy
got a hold of that hairbrush so fast!
“But this time, I really meant to stay in position even without
Daddy’s threats. I knew I really deserved it this time, and I would
do anything to show Daddy how sorry I was. I felt that if Daddy
could see that I could willingly offer my naked bottom to the strap,
22
then he would really know how remorseful I was, and might even
forgive me some day.”
Jenny looked out the window, and seemed to be in a reverie.
“When I think about it later, it does seem a little strange. There I
was, an eighteen-year-old girl – really, I should say an eighteenyear-old
woman now – about to apply for college and to leave
home, and yet all anyone would have seen if they were there was
a naughty little girl with her panties down about to get spanked
by her Daddy. I’m legally an adult, and I could’ve just shouted
‘no, Daddy, I won’t let you punish me’, and there’s really nothing
he could do about it. But I didn’t do that. What I did was to say,
very meekly, ‘Sir, I deserve to be soundly spanked, and I’m ready
for my punishment.’ ” Jenny turned back to her examiner, and met
her glance. “And you know what? I’m proud that that’s what I
said.”
“Really? You were proud to ask for a spanking? I’d think you’d
feel incredibly ashamed to say such a thing.”
”Well, yes. I mean, of course I felt ashamed to say it, but I was
proud of myself too, all at the same time, if that makes any sense.
Daddy’s always been pretty strict, compared to lots of other parents
I know. But he is always very fair. There’ve been times when
I thought that I was innocent, or even when I thought that being
punished was unfair, given the circumstances. I would look him
in the eyes and say something like ‘Daddy, I did not use the car
yesterday. If I had, I agree I would really deserve a spanking right
now, and I would take it. But I swear to you, on my honor, that
I didn’t.’ Or whatever the case was. And Daddy would usually
believe me, and let me off. So most of the times that Daddy has
spanked me are times when I deserved it.
“Of course, this just means that if I lie to Daddy, it makes things
that much worse. Because Daddy is fair with me, I try to always be
truthful to him. So I felt really guilty for having lied to Daddy this

time. He trusts me so much. That’s a lot of the reason I was getting
such a severe whipping, at least in my mind. Probably Daddy’s
too.”
“But do you really think that you should be spanked at your age?”
Jenny blushed a little, and looked away for a second. “Well . . .
yes, I do.” She bit her lip. ”I certainly think that young children
should be spanked when they are naughty. And I don’t think that
there is a reason why older children and teenagers should immune
to getting spanked, either. Sure, teenagers are ready to start taking
responsibility for things, and for acting more like adults, and if
they do, then of course they should be treated like adults. But they
don’t always – I should know, I’ve done plenty of immature things
– and, . . . well, ‘a childish punishment for childish behavior’ is
what Daddy says.
”Of course, being eighteen, you’d probably think I’d outgrown
that kind of punishment. But obviously, it was my childish behavior
that got me into this mess, so why shouldn’t I treated like
a child? And if you’ve acted like a child, and if you deserve to
be treated like a child, then I think that what your actual age is
shouldn’t make any difference. I believe that children need to be
spanked if they are naughty, and that their parents have every right
to spank them. When I have children, you can bet I’m going to discipline
them just like Daddy does me. That’s what I believe.
“And well, if I believe that, then I have to believe that it all applies
to me, right? You see, if I feel in my mind I’ve behaved like a
naughty child, then in my mind I feel like I’ve given up my right
to be treated like an adult. An adult should be adult enough to
know that they’ve been childish, don’t you think? Since I certainly
believe that Daddies should spank naughty children on their bottoms
when they deserve it, then if, in my considered, adult opinion,
I believe that that naughty child just happens to be me . . . well,
it’s going to be me who gets that spanking!”
23
Jenny paused to catch her breath. “I don’t know why I’ve gotten
all worked up about this. Anyway, that’s how I feel about it. I
know lots of people wouldn’t agree with me, but I’ve thought a lot
about it and I’m going to stand by my opinion. Which is, basically,
that I’m still not too old to be spanked when I deserve it. No matter
what other people might think.” She crossed her arms over her
chest.
“Well, Jenny, let me say that I certainly feel you deserve respect
for having such a well thought-out view on things. I’m always impressed
when a young woman takes a stand for what she believes
in. I think you are a very outspoken, yet principled, young woman,
which is exactly what a Birchwood woman should be.”
“Oh, why thank you ma’am.” Jenny beamed, and relaxed.
“It still amazes me that such an outspoken young lady could
request a spanking so meekly. What happened next?”
“It amazes me too,” Jenny laughed. “Especially after what happened
next, which is that I heard a loud WHACK-sound, and then
felt the sting of the first cut of the strap on my behind. Then it hurt;
the first stroke always hurts a lot more than you expect.” Jenny
absent-mindedly massaged the seat of her skirt with her hand.
“So, did you keep to your resolve to hold still?”
”I did, just barely. I was really determined to keep in position
through the whole spanking; even more, I wanted to keep my
mouth shut. It seems kind of undignified to be crying and shouting
and kicking all through a spanking, I think, so I always try to take
a licking with good humor – or at least, without being thoroughly
infantile. And I started out fine; after the first stroke, I just sucked
in some air, but kept perfectly still. I was able to keep pretty calm
after the first few swats – I’ve had enough practice, after all – but
after that the pain really started to get to me.
”After all the spankings I’ve gotten, I’m sure I could get through
eight or even ten strokes without making much of a fuss, despite

the pain. As long as that’s all the strokes there would be.
“But this time, after each swat, I would close my eyes and clench
my fists, maybe push my feet up on my toes a bit, trying to deal
with the pain, and I’d think to myself ‘Oh my god, I have to get
through forty-four (or whatever) more of these.’ Once you’re actually
getting your bottom whacked, forty-four more strokes is about
equal to infinity more. Each time the strap stings you, it seems
as though the end is just as far away as it was before. I felt as
though I’d be forever bent over that bed, having my behind eternally
leathered. It kind of reminds me of that Greek guy with the
rock. Sisyphus, right.” They both giggled.
”Well, I can laugh about it now, but believe me I really believed
it then. Anyway, after about the fifth stroke, I started making little
gasp sounds after each one. Around the eighth or ninth, I began
to kick my heels and pound my toes against the hard-wood
floor. Didn’t do me much good, it was hurting more than ever.
When Daddy straps me, he always leaves a little time between each
stroke. Just enough time to get calmed down a bit and to start to
anticipate the next stroke. After about a dozen or so I started crying
out ‘OUCH’ or ‘Please, no’ after each stroke, and was I sobbing
a bit.
”Around midway through my punishment (though, honestly
I’m not sure, because I’d completely lost count by then), Daddy
stopped. Then he said, ‘Tell me when you are ready for the second
half of your spanking.’ I took a minute to catch my breath and wipe
some of the tears out of my eyes. I could just feel how raw and sore
my bottom was. I reached behind me to touch my bottom, and it
felt like I’d been sitting on the stove for a while. I winced even after
the lightest touch of my own hand on my behind. I thought about
how sore I was, and how was I ever going to get through the rest
of it.
”After a little while, I heard that taptaptapping sound of leather
24
against palm again, and realized that I’d been thinking a bit too
long. ‘I’m ready, sir,’ I said.
”Then Daddy said, ‘Jenny, please tell me what comes next.’ Oh
God, you can’t imagine how horrible this was. Daddy was practically
telling me to ask for the rest of the punishment. I know that
I had asked for the spanking earlier, but that’s a lot easier before
you’ve had your buttocks turned in to raw meat! I pounded my
feet for a bit, and tried to imagine that I was somewhere else. But I
could hear that Daddy, standing behind me with a strap, was getting
restless.
”I knew what I had to say, and somehow got myself to say it.
‘Daddy, I’m going to get t-t-twenty-four more strokes of the strap
on my bare b-b-bottom.’
“ ‘Yes, dear. Then it will be all over.’ Then WHACK! After that I
just lost it. I don’t remember much of the rest of the spanking, except
that I probably spent most of the time bawling and squealing
and kicking my feet into the air and then kicking them back onto
the floor, and squirming like an eel; it was as though my bottom
was trying desperately, but uselessly, to somehow get itself out of
the way of that strap. I must have been a real sorry sight! But I
gripped tightly to the bed with my fists and held on as tight as
I could, which was the important thing. No matter how much it
wanted to, my bottom didn’t have any choice in the matter. No
matter how much my bottom told me ‘Get me the hell out of here!’
I placed it squarely in the path of that brutal strap, like a big round
target, and I kept it right there as the strap THWOCKed down on
it again and again. So I stayed in place, and didn’t get any extra
strokes.”
Jenny grinned. ”Anyway, that’s about all I have to say about
that spanking. I don’t think I even noticed when the swats stopped.
Daddy had to say, ‘OK, princess, it’s all over,’ and then I could grab
my burning buttocks and try to rub away the pain. Probably not

too smart, since they were too sore to touch. I took a few minutes
to calm down while I was still bent over the bed. Then I finally
stood up, very carefully.
“I looked up into Daddy’s eyes, then I looked away. I knew there
was something I had to say. ‘Daddy, thank you for giving me the
spanking. I really deserved it. I don’t know if you’ll ever be able to
forgive me.’ I looked at him again, and he was standing with his
arms out, so I ran to him and got a great big hug. And I knew he
would really forgive me.”
“That hug must have been really nice after the spanking.”
”Yeah, it was. Though Daddy was still holding the strap, and
as he hugged me it dangled behind my back. Each time it grazed
my bottom, I would jump and go ‘Ouch!’ It would be like Daddy
to do that, on purpose even! Then we went downstairs and made
dinner, and everything was just like usual. Except that I had to
stand up at the dinner table, of course!
”Anyway, that’s the story of my harshest punishment ever,
Ms. Johnson. It was kind of difficult to tell it all; I’ve told you some
things that I haven’t told my closest girlfriends, or even Daddy.
But you asked, and I tried to give the whole story as best I could.
Ms. Johnson smiled at Jenny. “I think you did a wonderful job.
I now have a really good idea about how you feel about corporal
punishment, and it seems to me that you have just the sort of
qualities that would make you fit right in at Birchwood College.”
Jenny was flattered by the complements. Being a modest girl,
they made her a little nervous, so she tried to change the subject.
“Ms. Johnson, can you tell me a bit more about how corporal
punishment is used at Birchwood? I read the fliers and the applications
materials, but it’s hard to tell what it’s really like from
those. You’re an alumna, Ms. Johnson, you must have lots of stories
about spankings at Birchwood. Were you ever spanked while
you were there?”
25

Chapter 7
7. Cathy’s First Time
Cathy stepped into the empty elevator, and punched the button
for the sixth floor. The doors shut. Alone in the elevator, Cathy
couldn’t help but express her amazement out loud.
“I can’t believe I’m actually doing this.”
The elevator whirred softly, but had no reply.
“I can’t believe it,” Cathy tried again. “I am actually going to be
spanked.” She could hardly whisper the last word; saying it made
her feel so squirmy.
Again, silence.
Cathy tried again. “I am actually going to visit a man in his
apartment, just so that he can put me over his lap and smack my
bottom. I must be crazy!”
“Ding,” said the elevator, and the door opened.
Up until this hour, 26 year old Cathy had never been spanked.
Oh, she had dreamed of being spanked ever since she was a little
girl. But it had never happened, not even once. After years of
yearning, and of wondering what it would be like, she’d finally
scared up the gumption to get on a spanking personals site, and
find a nearby gentleman who would not be averse to tanning her
hide. She still couldn’t quite believe she’d had the nerve to do it,
27
but here she was, just moments away from a sound spanking. She
felt all squirmy just thinking about it, a feeling which was somehow
scary and delicious all at the same time.
She found the right door, and knocked. The door opened.
“Why hello, Cathy! Come right in,” said a man about her age.
He smiled. “I’ve been so looking forward to meeting you in person.”
“Hi, Edward,” she said as he took her jacket. She looked around
her, taking in the living-room of Edward’s sixth floor apartment.
It was sparsely decorated, though neat and clean; a thick shaggy
carpet and dark wood paneling on the walls made it feel very comfortable.
Several openings led to the kitchen and hallway; a door
led to a balcony.
Meanwhile, Edward took a good look at Cathy, and liked what
he saw. Not too skinny, with a pleasingly plump posterior. A
red blouse and conservative dark blue skirt accentuated her curves
very nicely.
The usual pleasantries ensued; she declined a drink, but accepted
the opportunity to pee. When she emerged from the bathroom,
she saw that Edward had a much more serious face, and she

knew the action was about to begin.
“We both know why you’re here, young lady, do we not?”
“Uh huh.”
“You’ve told me you’ve become quite lazy and irresponsible
these days. And though you didn’t say it out loud, I can tell you’ve
been acting like a self-centered little brat. It’s long long past time
for you to face the consequences of your behavior, Cathy. Which
means, miss, that you are going to receive a very sound spanking,
over my knee, until I’m sure you’ve learned your lesson.” He
pointed to an empty corner of the room. “Please stand in that corner,
with your hands behind your back, and take a few moments
to think about what’s about to happen.”
She shuffled to the corner as directed. “This is it,” she thought to
herself, “Just a few minutes, and I’m really going to get it!” Once
in the corner, she couldn’t help but twist her head around, and
say, “Remember, we agreed I would get to keep my panties on,
right?” Cathy had been careful to insist on this. After all, she just
wasn’t the sort of girl who would show her bare naked stuff to any
random stranger. Oh no!
“Yes, Cathy, that’s what we agreed. I will have to lift your
skirt, of course, but all smacks will be delivered to the seat of your
panties. Assuming you’re wearing any, of course.”
Cathy snickered, “Of course I am.” She continued, “and we said
you’d only use your hand.”
Edward grimaced. “As I’m sure you remember, I am going to
give you a good sound hand-spanking. Over your panties. And
then you will receive a paddling with a hairbrush. On your panties,
as requested. Isn’t that right, young lady?”
“Uh, ok, I guess.”
Edward walked up behind the girl in the corner. He took her
chin in his hand, and swiveled her head so that he could look her
right in the eye. Cathy tried to avert her eyes from his gaze.
28
“Cathy. Do you guess? Or do you know?”
“Um, I, uh huh. Yeah, that’s what we agreed to,” she whispered.
“Yes, it’s exactly what we agreed to,” said Edward, letting go of
her chin. “Of course, in my opinion it’s not really a proper spanking
unless the lady’s bottom is bare. If it’s embarrassing for you,
well, all for the better. That’s just part of the punishment. That’s
the right way to give a spanking: on the bare, unprotected bottom.
Don’t you agree?”
“Um, maybe so. But that’s not what’s going on today.”
Edward sighed. “No, it isn’t. We won’t be doing it the right way
today. I hope you are very grateful that I’m letting you keep your
panties on, Cathy. Aren’t you?”
“Oh, yes, I am!”
In fact, Edward had demanded the right to use a hairbrush on
her, to make up for the fact that he would not have the opportunity
to gaze on her naked round bottom. Eventually she gave in to his
request. Very reluctantly. She did not want to feel the smack the
hairbrush at all; the idea totally scared her. But he’d given her no
other option, so she gave in.
Edward gave her a few minutes alone with her thoughts, and
those thoughts were bouncing through her head like a roomful of
ping-pong balls. “Oh my god, I’m going to get spanked! I’m so
excited. I’m so scared. I hope I don’t act like a baby! He’s going
to think my butt is too big. I’m crazy to be doing this, it’s going to
HURT! I need to pee again.”
Finally, the moment arrived. He called her out of the corner,
and she trudged over to the chair, and stood beside where he sat.
Almost before she knew it, she found herself looking close-up at
shaggy red carpeting. Edward carefully lifted the skirt of the girl
lying prone over his knees, revealing a lovely, round, white-pantyencased
bottom. He knew he would enjoy reddening this rump,
and got right to business.

A solid Smack! fell on Cathy’s left cheek, making her jump with
surprise. It was followed by an equal Smack! on her right cheek,
and then by a steady rain of spanks over her whole bottom. Each
spank stung, and Cathy found herself kicking her legs up just a
little after each one. Sometimes she let out an audible gasp, or a
little plaintive cry: “Oh! Owwie!”
Before long, the spanking created a warm burning sensation in
her buttocks. Cathy reached back with her hand, as if to ward off
Edward’s smacks. Deftly, Edward clasped her hand with his, and
held it tightly behind her back. He continued spanking her for several
more minutes. By the end, she was wriggling and squirming
after each and every spank, crying “Oh! Ow! It hurts. Please! I’ll
be good!”
Just as she thought she couldn’t take any more, he stopped.
“Think you’ve learned your lesson, miss?”
“Oh, yes sir! I sure have.”
“Well, young lady, unfortunately for you, I’m the judge of that.
And I think it’s going to take quite a bit more for the lesson to sink
in.” He helped her stand up, and directed her back into the corner.
Her made her hold up the back of her skirt, displaying those big
white panties, and the pinkness that was visible where the panties
ended.
“Cathy, I want you to take a few minutes to compose yourself,
and to think about what’s coming next.” As he said this, he ostentatiously
placed a wooden hairbrush on a table, where it would be
visible from the corner of her eye.
“Oh, I will!” she said, as Edward left the room.
Just right now, you may be imagining a tearful, woebegone girl
standing in the corner, wallowing in self-pity after having received
a well-deserved sound spanking. In fact, the girl standing in the
corner was anything but self-pitying. In fact, she was elated; she
almost felt like she was floating on air, excited as she was.
29
“Oh my god! I am a spanked girl now!” Her bottom burned
from the sting. “It hurts. But it feels so good!” She’d made it
through her very first spanking. It had definitely hurt, but she’d
been able to take it. She’d been so nervous, but that was gone now,
replaced by giddy excitement. She almost wanted to open the window,
and shout to the world, “Hey everybody, I just got spanked!
Can you believe it?” (Almost.)
Full of pent up nervous energy, she wanted to do something:
laugh, jump up and down, or giggle insanely. Instead, she was
caught in the corner, awaiting a hairbrush paddling. Every so
often she glanced over at the hairbrush, and thought “I want to
be spanked again. But I don’t want that hairbrush, no sir.” She
hatched a little plan, and grinned to herself.
“Mr. Hairbrush, you and me are going to have a little fun.”
Soon Edward returned, and sat down in the chair. “Young lady, I
hope you’ve been thinking about how to mend your ways, because
I am going to correct them with a wooden hairbrush applied to
your bottom. Please pick up the brush, and bring it over here to
me.”
Cathy stepped out of the corner, picked up the hairbrush. She
turned it over in her hands; it was heavy and solid, with a glossy
polish. She grinned at Edward, then suddenly dashed out of the
room, and into the kitchen.
“Young lady, you are making a big mistake,” he cried, as he
jumped up after her. She led him on a merry chase, two times
around the kitchen table, through the hallway, faking a dash into
the bathroom before scrambling back into the living room. She saw
the door in the wall in front of her, and ran over to try it. It opened,
and she found herself on an open air balcony, six stories above the
ground. With only a second to spare before Edward caught up
with her, there was only one option. She tossed the brush as hard
as she could. As Edward bounded up behind her, he was able to

watch it’s trajectory. Spinning, the hairbrush sailed across the alley,
bounced off the brick of the opposite building, ricocheted off a balcony
three floors down from Edward’s, then tumbled almost to the
ground. It hit the corner of a trash dumpster with a loud CRACK,
and Cathy and Edward saw the handle of the brush sheared off,
trailed by a spray of splinters.
Cathy was stunned speechless. Edward looked sadly at the
scene below, and mused, “That was a really nice hairbrush. They
don’t really make them like that much anymore. It’ll be expensive
to replace, even if I can find one like it.”
“Oh, I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to do that, really,” she sobbed.
“I’ll pay for a new one, I will, I promise.” She buried her head in
her hands.
Far below, they saw a man walk down the alley. He idly kicked
at the remains of the hairbrush, and walked on.
Edward sighed. “Oh, don’t worry about it. The hairbrush
doesn’t really matter, anyway.” He took her shoulder, turned her
around and led her back into the apartment.
“Are you sure it doesn’t. Cause I’ll buy you a new one, if you
want.”
He silently closed the door. Then, taking her hands in his, he
pulled her arms behind her back. Holding her that way, he directed
her into the room, towards the couch.
“Gosh, I’m so glad you’re not upset. I know I’d be furious, if it
was me. Oh, I can be so stupid sometimes.”
Edward guided her to the back of the big plush couch that dominated
the living-room.
“I guess I just got carried away. All the excitement got to me, I
guess.”
Edward firmly pushed her torso, and bent her over the back of
the couch. Her face buried in a seat cushion, Cathy began to feel a
bit concerned.
30
“Um. You said it didn’t matter. Didn’t you?”
“Young lady, you are in big trouble.”
“oh”
“I don’t care about the hairbrush. It just a thing; it can be replaced.
What I care about is your idiotic, irresponsible, and juvenile
behavior.”
“um, I guess I wasn’t thinking . . . ”
“Catherine Marie, quiet!” More softly, he said, “People walk
through that alley all the time. That brush could have landed on
somebody’s head.”
“but, but, I didn’t mean to . . . ”
“Young lady, you will NOT speak until I ask you to. Do you
understand me?”
“Yes, sir.”
“I wouldn’t enjoy having to call 911, and explain how some poor
fellow was knocked out by a falling hair-care implement. Or explain
how he got eyes full of wood-splinters. Is that the sort of
thing you enjoy, Catherine Marie?”
“No. No. Of course not!”
“So you say you just weren’t thinking, do you? I guess you just
happened to forget to use the thing between your ears. More likely,
you’ve just never grown up, and you enjoy acting like a spoiled
little child.”
“No! I didn’t mean to do that. I didn’t meeaan to!” she whined.
Cathy had never received such a chewing-out since she was a little
kid.
“Enough.” Edward went over to a closet. He returned carrying
a thick, heavy leather strap, which he placed on the couch right
where Cathy could see it. “Guess you’ll be feeling this instead of
the hairbrush, naughty little thing.” Cathy gasped.
Edward walked behind her, and rolled up the hem of her skirt,
uncovering her bottom.

“Catherine Marie, you are going to be punished in the timehonored
way all misbehaving children are punished. Which
means, young lady, that you have lost the privilege of having your
bottom protected.” In one quick motion, he yanked her panties
right down to her ankles, revealing two very pink bottom-cheeks.
“Ooooh,” she gasped.
“Quiet. I will not hear any argument from you, missy. You know
you have this coming.”
With that, he picked up the strap, brought it high above his
shoulder, and thwacked it down on her upturned bottom with a
meaty CRACK!
“Yeeooow!” she screamed.
Again he brought it down, with all the force he could muster.
CRACK!
“Aaaaugh, oooow!”
Cathy’s hand-spanking had made her bottom tingle warmly. It
had stung, but she’d discovered she could enjoy it. But there was
nothing at all to enjoy about being bent over the couch, having her
bare bottom tanned by an old strip of well-oiled leather. Edward
pummeled her backside with punishing strokes, and she danced to
their tune. She was openly crying now, crying out in anguish after
each stroke. Edward put his palm on the small of her back to hold
her in place, as she squirmed and kicked.
Soon she was sobbing like a little girl, as the strokes continued
to rain down on her defenseless behind. She felt utterly sorry for
herself. She was sorry for being so stupid and thoughtless. She
was sorry for being such a screw-up. Most of all, she was sorry
that she’d disappointed this man she’d only met in person minutes
earlier.
After what seemed like ages, Edward threw the strap down. He
lifted the howling girl in his arms, and she buried her head on his
shoulder.
31
Finally, she stopped crying enough to wipe the tears from her
eyes. She looked at him, and murmured, “Are you still angry at
me?”
“No, I’m not angry anymore, Cathy.” He hugged her tightly.
Then he brought her to the bathroom. She twisted around to look
at her butt in the mirror, and gasped; it was all red, with a few
angry purple marks.
“So,” she said, looking into Edward’s eyes, “do you consider
that a spanking done the right way?”
Edward grinned. “Oh yes, Cathy, I certainly do.”

Chapter 8
8. Extra Credit
A tentative knock on the door. “Come in,” I said.
Samantha Foster cautiously opened the door. A cute brunette,
dressed in a red top, shorts, and flip-flops. A typical-looking female
undergraduate.
“Thank you for seeing me, Professor Rogers. I know you’re very
busy.”
“I am very busy, Samantha. But I’m happy to spare a few minutes.
Have a seat.” The poor thing really believed that 7 o’clock on
a Saturday evening is the only hour I have free. I chose that time
because the building is conveniently empty.
She sat down in a straight-backed chair, with her hands clutching
her knees. I can tell she’s worried; she probably already
guessed why I’ve asked to see her.
“I wanted to talk to you about the paper you handed in last
week, Samantha.” She avoided my gaze; she knows what’s up.
Samantha is a senior, and is taking my Comp Lit 413 class for her
major. (For those of you who don’t have a course catalog handy,
it’s called The Romance of Chastisement: Punishment and Sexuality in
the 19th Century Novel. I get a huge kick out of teaching this class,
as you might imagine; it’s one of the most popular courses offered
here.) Samantha is quite intelligent, if a bit lazy.
33
I show her a sheaf of papers. “Samantha. I have here an essay
with your name on it. Please take a look at it.” She glances at it. It
begins:
Samantha Foster Comp Lit 413
“Disobedience and discipline in Jane Eyre”
The role that discipline plays in the changing role of heroines
in gothic novels is shown by the the so-called “lost
chapter” of Jane Eyre which has recently come to light
(Kemp, 2008.)
“Did you write this, Samantha?”
“Um . . . ” She looks at the floor.
“Now please look at this.” I hand her another sheaf of paper, a
printout from a website. It begins:
“Transgression and correction in the novels of Charlotte
Bronte”
The role of castigation in the evolution of the female protagonist
of the gothic novel is exemplified by the recently
found “lost” chapter of Jane Eyre (Kemp, 2008.)

I said the girl was bright. She knew better than to copy the text
of the online article word for word; instead, she rephrased every
sentence in her own style. Still, if you put the papers side by side,
you’ll see they’re identical.
“Do you know where I found this article, Samantha?” Of course,
I knew exactly where she’d found it. I’d written the damn thing
myself, and uploaded it to www.termpapers.com.
Her eyes were already welling with tears. “I didn’t mean to copy
it, sir. I just looked at it a bit, like for research . . . and then I didn’t
have much time, so . . . ”
“Samantha Foster,” I begin in my best oh-so-disappointed voice,
“the consequences of cheating are very serious. I am going to have
to give you an F for the paper, Samantha. Which means it is very
unlikely that you will pass this course.”
“Oh no! I need this class to graduate.”
“And I will have to write a letter, which will be be placed in your
permanent file, detailing what you did. Any professional school
you apply to is going to ask for that file.” I knew she wanted badly
to go to law school.
“Oh (sob) my life is ruined.” I handed her a tissue, and let her
have her cry.
“Samantha,” I said, after a while, “it’s not that I want to mess
up your plans for law school. But I’m afraid you deserve to be
punished for cheating. It’s not only wrong, it’s an insult to me. I
try my hardest to treat students honestly and fairly, and I expect to
receive honesty in return.”
I put my hand on my chin, and pretended to think, while the
poor girl wept softly. “Samantha . . . I’m willing to consider a different
kind of punishment.”
She perked up. “What is it, Professor Rogers? I’ll do anything to
get a passing grade.”
“I’m not sure how to put this. Samantha –” I paused dramati-
34
cally “– have you ever been spanked?”
Her face turned a deep crimson hue. Lovely. So help me, I love
to make girls blush!
Eventually, she stammered out, “Uh huh. When I was a kid.”
“And who spanked you, and why.”
“Oh, my dad spanked me, for stupid things kids do, you know.”
“Did he put you over his knee?”
“Usually.”
“Usually, Samantha?”
“Um, one time he used his belt.”
“Oh. And why did he do that, miss?”
She looked down at her toes. “When I was in middle school, I
got mixed up with bad crowd. We’d, like, pick on other girls, or
rough them up. I got caught. Dad was really mad about that. He
gave me a good licking with his belt. I guess I deserved it, and I
learned my lesson.”
“And what do you think you deserve for cheating, young lady?”
“Um . . . um, I dunno.”
“Yes you do. Don’t you, Samantha?” She nodded.
I unbuckled my belt; her eyes went wide as saucers. “I’m prepared
to give you another chance, Samantha. I don’t want your
college career to be ruined by one little mistake.” I folded the belt
in half, and tapped the end against my palm. “You have until Friday
to hand in a proper essay. I expect it to be original work, young
lady. Understood?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Please bend over the side of the desk, Samantha.”
She went over to the side of the desk, and began to lean forward,
and hastily I said, “No, not there. Here, stand in front of the desk.”
I guided her to the correct location, and applied gentle pressure
to the small of her back. “All the way, young lady, til your face
touches the desk.” She did as I asked. The desk was low, so she

was bent low. Her bottom was her highest part.
I looked over my shoulder. The closet door was slightly ajar.
After a few seconds, the lens of a video camera peeked out in the
gap between the door and door-frame. Good! The show could now
begin.
“You left out one important detail about the belting your father
gave you. Samantha, did anything come between your bottom and
his belt?” Of course, I knew the answer before I asked; but better
to make her say it!
“Oh, please sir, isn’t it enough, me getting spanked?” she
pleaded.
“I’m waiting for an answer, young lady.”
In an almost inaudible whisper, “It was on the bare.”
“Well then, miss. You know what comes next.”
She stood up, and twisted her neck to look at me. “Please?” I
shook my head. Slowly, with a sigh, she unbuttoned her shorts,
and slid them down. At last, the sight I’d been waiting for! The
beautiful, generous curves of her plump pale bottom. Such a gorgeous
picture! I hoped it came out well on video.
“Back in position young lady.” She did as I requested. “Samantha,
I am going to give you twenty swats with the belt. You will
stay right where you are. You will not resist in any way. You will
show by your actions how sorry you are, and so prove to me that
you’ve earned a second chance. Have you heard me?”
“Yes, sir. (sniff)” I could see she was shivering just a bit, which
caused her bottom to wiggle hypnotically. I could have stood
watching all day, but there was a job to do. I tapped the belt against
her bottom cheeks, testing my aim; involuntarily, she clenched. I
lifted the belt, then brought it down with a loud CRACK! right
across the center of her bottom.
“Yikes! Owwww!” she cried. She attempted to reach back and
protect her rear.
35
“Samantha Foster, hands in front of you!” She complied, and not
wanting to give her time to change her mind, I struck again.
CRACK! “Ugh! That hurts!”
I applied the strokes steadily, giving her just enough time to feel
each one before delivering the next. CRACK! “Oh!” CRACK!
“Aaah.” She kicked her heels. CRACK! “Oh sir please . . . ”
CRACK! “Oh, no, it hurtssss . . . ” CRACK! “Aaaaaaaaaauugh!”
That one caught the top of her thighs. CRACK! “Oooh.” CRACK!
“Owwwie!” CRAAAACK! “Oohohoho!” She drummed her feet
on the floor after that particularly hard one. I looked back to make
sure that the camera was getting every bit of the action.
I paused for a minute or too to let her get her breath back. “I
wonder if this is making any impression at all on you?” I asked.
“Yes yes it is please yes it is!”
“And what have you learned?”
“Don’t cheat. I won’t cheat. I’ll never do it again oh no . . . ”
I rested my palm lightly on her now pink bottom. I could feel the
warmth of the spanked flesh. Standing back, I said, “Miss Foster,
there are ten more strokes to go.” Without giving her a chance to
answer, I resumed the punishment.
CRACK! “Oooh.” CRACK! “Aaah!” CRACK! “Aiaiaiaaaugh!”
On that one the tip of the belt caught the inside of her bottom cleft.
CRACK! “Oh please” CRACK! “Please sir” CRACK! “No more”
“Aaagh. I’ve learned” CRACK! “learned my lesson sir” CRACK!
“Owwwww!” CRACK! “Iwontdoitagainoooowww!”
I paused before delivering the last stroke. “Do not make me regret
giving you another chance, young lady.” I reached back, and
delivered a mighty CRAACK! across the middle of her poor punished
bottom.
“Aaaaaaaah! Owowowow.”
I regarded the punished girl, bent sobbing over a wooden desk,
her bottom red and swollen from the beating it had taken. I felt

sure that bottom could take quite a bit more punishment, actually;
but I did not want to press my luck. I helped her stand up, and
handed her a tissue. She daubed at her tears.
“You took that very well, Samantha. You’re a very brave girl, to
accept a punishment like that. I’m proud of you.” That actually
brought a weak smile to her face. “Now get your pants up, young
lady. You look indecent standing there like that!”
“Oh, sorry sir.” Sheepishly, she pulled up her panties, then
tugged her shorts up over her hips.
I picked up her paper, and threw it in the trash. “Samantha, as
far as I’m concerned, this document does not exist. I look forward
to reading your true thoughts about the lost chapter of Jane Eyre
on Friday. You can go now.”
“Thank you sir. Thank you so much!” With that she scurried
out. I closed the door, and listened as her footsteps faded into the
distance.
“The coast is clear, Justin, you can come out now.” Justin Boyle,
a scruffy looking junior, emerged holding the video camera.
“That was amazing, professor! Incredible!”
“I hope you were able to hold the camera steady in all your excitement.”
“Oh, don’t worry, Professor Rogers. The video came out great.
Here, look.” Together, we watched the video on the little camera
screen. It was all there on video, the poor girl baring her bottom
and bending over to receive a good leathering.
“Congratulations, Justin. This video is certainly going to earn
you an A for the course.” He grinned. “Please don’t forget to send
me a copy.”
“Of course, professor.”
“And thank you for relaying to me what she told you. Those
things she told you about her childhood experiences of spanking
were quite helpful.”
36
I offered him a seat. “You’re going to see Samantha tonight,
right?” I asked.
“Uh huh.”
“Well, I think you are in luck. You should have no trouble getting
that young lady over your knee tonight.”
“Do you think so? I’ve always wanted to, but it never seemed
like the right moment.”
“Well, I think the right moment has come. As long as you display
confidence, she will accept whatever you hand out.” I paused to
consider. “She knows you disapprove of her cheating, doesn’t she?
Even though you showed her how to find that paper?”
“Oh, yeah. So I showed her that paper online that you told me
about, and I was like, ‘Look at this, Sam, it’s exactly like your topic,’
and she was like, ‘Oh yeah, you could just hand it in like it is, it’s
perfect.’ And I could tell she was thinking about it, so I said, ‘But
you better not, that would be cheating.’ But I figured she would
use it anyway, and she did.”
“Good enough, I guess. So this means that this evening you are
going to express your displeasure upon her bottom.”
Justin looked eager, but wary. “I dunno. She won’t want to have
anything to do with being spanked, after all this.”
“I think you’d be surprised, Justin.” I thought some more. “Tell
you what. Here is what I recommend. That young lady is going
to need some serious consoling tonight, and who better than
her boyfriend to provide it. After letting her have a good cry in
your embrace, you might offer to apply some soothing lotion to
her backside.”
“Oh! I see . . . ”
“Indeed. Once you have the girl pants-down and over your lap,
give her bottom a nice rub with some soothing cream. She’ll soon
feel quite relaxed and comfortable in that position. That’ll be the
right time to explain to her how disappointed you are that she tried

to cheat, and that she practically made you her accomplice! A good
sound hand-spanking will do the trick. To be honest, Justin, I think
she will prove to be quite receptive to the idea.”
“Wow, that could work. That’s a great idea. Thanks, Professor
Rogers!” He grinned.
I showed the young man out, and closed the door. I poured myself
a single malt, offered a silent toast to the young couple, and
congratulated myself of a job well done.
I am so proud to be able to contribute to the education of young
people!
37

Chapter 9
9. The Teacher is a Brat
The classroom was a kind of barely controlled chaos. Children
making messes, children picking things up, children shouting, children
running in circles. A blonde girl climbed on a chair, lifted a
cardboard wrapping-paper tube to her shoulder, carefully aimed it
toward a group of kids, and shouted “Watch out, I’ve got a gun!
BLAM BLAM BLAM BLAM BLAM! You’re all dead!”
“Jessica! Stop it right now, young lady. The principal is going to
show up any minute, and you’ll be in big trouble if he sees you.”
Megan Price lifted the unruly child off the chair, and pointed her
towards her friends, one of whom whispered to little Jessica, “Be
careful! Don’t you know, if you get sent to the principal’s office,
he’s gonna spank you with a big paddle . . . ”
Megan smiled. Schoolhouse rumor was out of date; no one had
gotten spanked at Gumbranch Elementary in decades, and she was
quite sure there was no paddle in the principal’s office. Still, she
wasn’t going to tell the kids that; a little fear of the principal would
help keep the children in line.
She looked fondly at her first graders. She’d come here less
than a year ago fresh out of college, with the ink still wet on her
teacher’s certification, and was handed the entire first grade of the
small town of Gumbranch to teach. Now it was the last day of
39
class, and she looked on her class with a sense of pride. They were
really such good kids, even bratty Jessica! She was sad that the
school year was over; summer vacation was going to be so boring
by comparison.
“May I have a few words with your class, Miss Price.” Startled,
Megan turned and saw Principal John Wooding standing at the
door.
“Oh, of course.” She clapped noisily. “Class, the principal has
something to say to you.”
The children came to order instantly. As the principal congratulated
the students (and got big cheers when he called them “second
graders”), Megan watched him dreamily. He was a tall, athletic
man, always calm and composed. His easy confidence made it
easy for him to hold the attention of a class of frenetic first graders.
In his mid-thirties, he’d spent several years in the army before leaving
to take up a career in education. He taught gym class as well
as being principal of the little small-town elementary school.
Megan wasn’t usually attracted to older men. But this man filled
her thoughts. She imagined his strong arms wrapping around her,
protecting her; controlling her; doing things to her. She sighed.
She could never tell him how much she lusted after him. If only

she could get his attention!
He finished his little speech. He came over to Megan, and out of
earshot of the kids, said, “Looks like things are under control here,
Megan. Need anything before I go?”
“I need you to carry me off to the cloakroom in your big strong
arms and ravish me,” is what she thought, but did not say. What
she really said was, “Sure, I could use a nap right about now.
Thanks for covering my class for me, you’re such a sweetie!”
He pretended to ignore her comment. “One more thing, Miss
Price. After the kids leave and you clean up, could you come see
me in my office. We have a few things to discuss.”
“Um, yes sir,” she replied, and he left. Megan was flustered.
What did he want? “I bet he wants to congratulate me on my first
year here,” she tried to believe. But she feared he’d inform her
that, sadly, she would not be rehired on for next year? Or was
there some other thing he wanted to discuss. Megan gulped; surely
there was no way he could know . . .
She shook herself, and clapped her hands. “Okay, kids. Let’s
make the classroom nice and neat before we leave.” Jessica piped
up, “Awwww, do we haaaave to?”
Standing at the door marked “Principal Wooding”, Megan
somehow felt like a naughty schoolgirl. Her knock reverberated
down the empty halls of the now quiet schoolhouse.
“Come in. Please close the door behind you.”
He sat behind a big metal desk. There were several chairs in the
room, but he did not invite her to sit.
“Um,” she started hesitantly, “I feel like I’m in trouble, hee hee,
being called to the principal’s office.”
He looked at her blankly.
40
She tried to joke. “Are you going to use that paddle the kids
think you have?” The last part came out as a mumble, and she
blushed.
“So, Miss Price. The school-year is over. How do you think it
went?”
“Um, I think it went really great, Mr. Wooding! They’re a great
group of kids. I’m really going to miss them.”
“Well, I have to say, I’ve heard a bunch of good things from the
parents about you. And I know the kids adore you. Your performance
as a teacher is all we hoped for.”
Megan beamed.
“Unfortunately, you have completely failed to hold to the standards
of conduct we expect for our faculty.”
She stood, mouth agape. What had he found out? “You stupid,
stupid, girl,” she thought. Out loud, she tried look innocent.
“Wha? I mean, what do you meeeean?”
“Do you remember this?” He showed her a photo. His car, decorated
with shaving cream scrawls. She could plainly read “Wooding
is the best!”
“Crap, he knows,” she thought. “Why am I always so stupid?
Why do I always have to play pranks on guys I like? When other
girls want to get a guy’s attention, they give out their phone number,
or flash their tits or something. Why can’t I be like that? Now
he just hates me.” She felt she could cry, but she thought she’d
better try to tough it out.
“Uh huh. Um, didn’t it turn out some former students did it?”
“That’s what I thought at first, Miss Price. And if that’s who
it was, I’d be happy to enjoy the joke.” He reached in his desk
drawer, and pulled out several cans of shaving cream. “Do you
know where I found these, Miss Price?”
“At the grocery store?” she quipped.
He raised his eyebrows. “I do NOT appreciate your attitude,

Miss Price. I found them in your desk drawer.” He paused. “Cat
got your tongue?”
She flushed. she ought to beg him for mercy. But she could not
help herself. “Well, I just thought everyone needed to know what
a great boss you are. That’s a good thing, right? You should be
thanking me!” She beamed at him.
He sighed, stood up, and walked over to her. His six foot framed
towered over her, and she shivered.
“You are an insufferable BRAT, Miss Price.” He unbuttoned the
cuffs of his shirt-sleeves. “And I know exactly what insufferable
brats need.”
“Oh yeah? What are you going to do, spank me?” He grinned
serenely. Taking her earlobe in his hand, he tugged her over to a
straight-backed chair.
“Hey! Stop it!”
He sat down on it, and hauled her over his lap. “Miss Price,
I find your attitude appalling. I expect you to deal with me in a
respectful and professional manner. Snide and sarcastic remarks
will get you nowhere.” He delivered a hearty smack to the seat of
her black skirt.
“Ow! Hey. You can’t do this.”
“And you can’t stop me, Miss Price.”
He lifted the light fabric of her warm-weather skirt, to reveal
plain white panties. Megan gasped and blushed; if only she’d chosen
sexier underwear, instead of granny-panties!
He spanked the seat of her panties. She felt the sting of each of
the sharp smacks; they hurt! She felt just like a little girl, being
spanked by her daddy.
“Come on, stop! Ow!” she whined. “I take it all back. You’re not
great, you’re EVIL! Ow!” She wriggled and squirmed, clenched
and unclenched her bottom, but the smacks kept coming.
When he stopped, she sighed. “Is that all you got, mister?”
41
SMACK! “Up, brat.” He lifted her to her feet. Digging in a
drawer, he brought out a fearsome slap of polished wood. “Schoolhouse
rumor isn’t always wrong, you see. I do have a paddle. But
I never expected I’d have to use it.”
She blanched. “Eeek! No please. I’m sorry, really . . . ”
He guided her over to the side of the desk. Before she realized
it, he whisked her panties down to her knees.
“Aah, no!” She covered her nakedness with her hand.
“Hands in front of you. NOW.” She complied.
“I think a dozen swats will make you very sorry for defacing my
vehicle.”
“I’m already sorry! Please don’t.”
He surprised her with a sound CRACK of the paddle on her defenseless
upturned bottom.
“Aaaagh, ow!” she cried. Eleven more swats followed, deliberate
and hard. After each one she cried out, kicked her heels, and
clenched her bottom. By the end she was sobbing; her tears soaked
into the ink-blotter.
When it was over, he let her stand up, and handed her a tissue.
She daubed at her tears, then reached back to rub her bruised butt.
“Oh, that smarts!” She pulled her panties up. “Are you done, mister?”
“No, but that’s enough for now.” He reached among the papers
on his desk. “Remember this?” It was a photo of his house; toilet
paper dangled from the gutters and over the trees.
“Uh, maybe.”
“Thought you might.” He pulled out a newspaper clipping.
“Remember? This was up on the bulletin-board.” It showed a
photo of the school soccer team, together with the principal, who
was wearing an improvised beard and mustache drawn in pencil.
“You can’t prove I did that,” she pouted.
“I watched you scribble on it, you silly girl.”

“Oops.”
“There are at least a dozen of your little pranks I know of for
sure, and more I suspect. Young lady, you are going to pay for
each one.”
He took her chin in his hand. “Your bottom is too bruised for me
to deal with you now. Here’s what’s going to happen, miss. Each
week during summer break, you will come see me, and each time
we will get to the bottom of another one of your little shenanigans.
Do you understand me?”
“I do,” she said weakly.
“Now get your bruised behind out of my office, before I put you
across my lap again.” She scurried out, clutching the seat of her
skirt.
Painfully, she settled into the seat of her car. She was flushed, excited
and mortified all at once. “I hope he couldn’t see how turnedon
I was,” she thought. “It’s so embarrassing!”
As she drove home, she replayed the spanking (yum!) and the
paddling (ow!) over and over in her mind. She smiled. This was
going to be the best summer vacation ever!
42

Chapter 10
10. Getting His Attention
“But it’s not faaaair!”
“What’s not fair?”
“How come I’m always getting spanked? All the time! It’s no
fair. You’re so mean.” Linda’s bottom lip jutted out, almost in a
pout.
“You’re exaggerating, honey. I’d rather say ‘frequently’, anyway.”
Dave grimaced. “It wouldn’t be so much if you could just
learn to quit pestering me while I’m working. You know I’ve got
to finish this proposal.”
“But I just want to spend time with you. It’s so boooring when
you have to work. All I want is a little attention from you . . . ”
She stomped her foot. “Please? You’ve already spanked me twice
today. My bottom is so sore. Please don’t do it again. I’ll be sooooo
good, I promise. I’ll sit right here on the couch, and won’t pester
you at all. Promise. Pretty pleeease?” She sat on his lap, took his
hands in hers, and put on her cutest and most woe-begone look.
“Gosh, Linda, I don’t know.” She wrapped her fingers around
his large hands, and looked into his face with big doe-eyes. “. . .
oh, okay.” He was such a sucker for that cute face of hers! “I’ll
make you a deal. If you can go the next half-hour without bugging
43
me, I will let you out of the spanking.”
“Oh, David, thank you.” She threw her arms around him. “I
love you so much, David.”
“I love you too, Linny.” He took her chin in his hand, and directed
her gaze into his eyes. “But I warn you . . . if you do bother
me, I promise you I will blister your backside with the brush. Got
that young lady?”
Linda backed away. “Oh, no! You won’t have to. You’ll see!”
Once he turned back to his work, she grinned a happy grin at him,
pleased to have escaped punishment.
It’s five minutes later. Dave is sitting at the desk he uses at home,
typing at the computer. Linda is sprawled on the couch nearby,
nose in a book; but the book is not holding her attention.
“I’m bored. You wanna watch a movie?”
“Not now, honey. Maybe later. If I’m done with this stuff.”
“I’ll make popcorn.” Long pause. “Hmmmpf.” Longer pause.
“I wanna get online for a minute, Jodie was going to email me. Can
I check on your ’puter?”

“No honey, I’m using it. And you have your own laptop.”
“But it’s so sloooow, I hate it. Yours is more fun.” Pause. “Only
for a minute. Aw, come on.” Pause. “Anyway, it’s in the other
room.”
Linda noisily extracted a chocolate from a paper wrapper, and
devoured it greedily. “Mmmmm, those are so good. Honey, get
some more the next time you go out.” Long pause. She crinkled the
paper into a little ball, and chucked it in his direction. It bounced
of the back of his head. He stood up, and she cringed. “Ooops.”
He stood up, menacingly. “You are in BIG trouble missy!”
Within moments, she found herself tossed over onto her tummy
over the couch, shorts and panties down at her ankles. “You really
did it now, young lady. You are not going to sit comfortably
tonight.”
He delivered a series of powerful spanks to her round, bare bottom
cheeks, already pink from being spanked twice that day. She
winced and gasped at each smack. “Oooh, oooh, I’m sorry, I didn’t
mean it idintmeeeeeeanit . . . ”
“You think I’m stupid enough to fall for that, little girl?” Dave
said, as he reddened her upturned bottom.
“Owie! No, not stupid! Nuh uh.”
After a minute, he stopped and said, “Now go fetch your hairbrush
and get your ass back here.”
“Nooooooooo! Not the haaairbrush. It’s not faaair. It hurts soooo
much! You don’t have to use that, it’s not fair!”
He stood her up, and applied a smack to her seat which made
her shriek “Ow!” “Go git, young lady. Or you’ll wish I was using
the brush.”
“Ooooh,” she said as she lifted her shorts up to crotch-level and
scuttled out of the room. Soon she came back, gingerly clutching
a wooden hairbrush in one hand, while holding her unbuttoned
shorts in the other.
44
She offered the hairbrush to him, saying, “Please David, don’t
use it. I really really hate it. I promise I’ll be really really good. I
don’t wanna get a hairbrushing. It’ll make me cry. You don’t want
me to . . . to cry, do you? Please?” She bit her lip.
David took the hairbrush. “Linda . . . oh boy, I’m way too easy
on you.” He looked into her pleading gaze. “Here’s what. I’m
going to give you a good hard hand-spanking. As long as you take
it well, the hairbrush won’t come out.” He took her chin in his
hands, and looked in her eyes. “Is that fair, Linda?”
“Um, yes. I guess so.”
He sat down, and taking her hand he guided her over his lap. He
pushed her shorts out of the way. “So, tell me why you’re getting
spanked, naughty girl,” he said.
“Um. Because you said you need to work, and, and, uh, maybe
I might have interrupted you a little bit by asking a little question
or two.”
SPANK! “Ooooh!” SPANK! SPANK! SPANK! “Uhhhgh. No
faaair, I wasn’t ready!”
“Try again, miss.”
“Ugh.” Sniff. “Well, I guess I kinda pestered you a little bit too
much. I guess I kinda just wanted a little attention, that’s all . . . ”
“And you’re going to get a lot more attention than you bargained
for, little brattikins.” He placed his palm on her warm bottom.
“Remember what I warned you.” He began spanking her bare pink
bottom, delivering sharp smacks to both cheeks. She squirmed and
kicked her heels. “Oh, oh, ow! Oh, David, stop! Oooh, it’s not fair
. . . ”
“Oh my girl, I’ve been more than fair.” He smiled. “You’ve been
trying my patience all day.”
The brisk spanking continued. As David punished every square
inch of her lower bottom cheeks, delivering firm spanks without
a break. The relentless stinging heat on Linda’s bottom was all

she could be conscious of. Her hand wandered back towards her
stinging behind, ineffectually trying to ward off the blows to her
defenseless derriere. Even as she did it, she knew she was in for it.
She quickly pulled her arm up, but it was too late.
“Ooops! I didn’t mean to do that. It hardly got anywhere near
my butt, David. Please, David, noooo . . . ” She knew her pleas
were useless. David liked to keep his promises, and she knew he
hated it when she interfered.
“Oh, you’ve done it now, little girl.” He picked up the hairbrush
lying beside him, and smacked it down with a meaty CRACK on
her backside. Again and again he paddled her bottom.
“Waaaaaugh. No faaaair, I wasn’t gonna block it.” CRACK.
“Aauugh.” She kicked her feet and wriggled, arching and straining
against the painful blows. He wrapped his left arm around
her torso to force her in place, as he blistered her bottom, which
soon turned an angry crimson. Linda bucked and strained against
him, but still the swats of the hairbrush rained down on her unprotected
and now very red bottom. Soon, she was a sobbing, squirming
mess, and David slowed the pace of the swats, then stopped.
Linda sighed, and her body went limp.
David put the brush down, and spanked Linda’s punished bottom
with his bare hand. As her bottom was peppered with
light smacks, her body relaxed; after the hairbrushing, the handspanking
felt almost like a gentle caress.
David touched her shoulder, a signal she understood. She
reached out with her free arm. David grabbed her wrist and held
it snugly against her back. He continued to spank, covering her
whole bottom with little smacks. The gentle hand-spanking made
Linda feel safe and comforted.
Finally, he stopped spanking.
“Linda? Anything to say?”
“I’m so sore!”
45
David smiled. “I should think so. Your bottom looks like it’s
been through the works.” He rubbed her throbbing bottom. “Such
a pretty picture your paddled bottom makes . . . now Linda, you
know what I want to hear from you.”
“Uh huh.” Her voice was raw from her all squealing. “I’m s-ssorry,
honey. I promise I won’t bug you ever ever ever again.”
David grinned. “Don’t promise more than you can deliver,
kiddo.” He gently massaged her bottom, rubbing with playful tickles.
The light, almost delicate touches to her raw backside made
her tingle. She moaned.
“Uh huh.” The sensual caresses made her body melt. All tenseness
had vanished. Her legs slipped slightly apart. David sidled
his hand in between, and brushed her sex lightly with his fingertips.
“Ah! . . . oh . . . mmmmmmm . . . lovely . . . ” He continued to
pet her now moist cleft, now brushing he edge of his hand along
it, now gently squeezing her button between his fingers.
“Oh, yes . . . soooo good . . . don’t stop!”
“I’ll decide when to stop, young lady.” David smacked her bottom
soundly with his left hand, while fondling her pussy with his
right. She arched her body; moaning gently, she floated on waves
of sensation.
“It’s time I gave you what you deserve, young lady.” He turned
her over in his lap, and stood up. Happy spanked girl in his arms,
he carried her to the bedroom.
He set her gently on her feet. Then pushed her roughly over the
side of the bed. Excited by the view of her red upturned rump, he
unbuttoned his pants, unleashing his hard cock. She wiggled, and
moaned, “Do me, come on, do me!”
He guided his cock into her waiting damp pussy. She quivered,
feeling him enter. He pushed and pulled slowly but forcefully; she
wriggled in time to his thrusts. His crotch rubbed against her sore

ottom each time he thrusted. Leaning over, he took her arms,
and restrained them behind her back. Pinioned, she could only
rock back and forth as mounting spasms of pleasure overcame her.
He fucked harder and faster, until he came inside her, both lovers
shuddering.
She nestled snugly in his arms. “Oooh, that was . . . nice.” She
giggled, then sighed.
“Fucking incredible is what it was, Linny.” He pinched her bottom,
eliciting a squeal. “So, miss, was that enough ‘attention’ to
keep you from bratting me the rest of the evening?”
“Oh, I’ll be good for a half hour or so, I’m sure . . . ” SMACK.
“Eek!” SMACK. “I’m KIDDING! Owwwww . . . ”
46

Chapter 11
11. Shorty and the Wild Girl
“You can’t catch me! No way. Not gonna happen.” She stuck
out her tongue at him.
“Shannon, get your butt over here right now, or so help me I
promise you I’ll haul your ass over the couch and belt your backside
till you squeal.”
“Nuh-uh. Can’t make me without a fight. And I’m a fighter,
Mister.” She put up her fists.
“I can take you down, girl, and I will if I have to.”
“Not a chance. I fight dirty.” She unclenched her fists to show
off her long nails.
“You are such an impossible brat.” Jack didn’t show it, but he
was as close to losing his temper as he’d ever been, since Shannon
moved in with him. And that was saying a lot. Because Shannon
was a wild one. A hellion. The kind of girl who couldn’t do anything
without turning it into a contest. The kind of girl who’d set
your shoelaces on fire, just to see how you’d react. The kind of girl
who’d kick and scream and scratch your eyes out before admitting
you’d won.
Jack loved Shannon anyway. Her insouciant smile and devilmay
care attitude made sure of that. But sometimes she was way
47
more trouble than he cared for. Sometimes she got just a bit out of
control. Sometimes she could be more than a bit selfish. Like today,
when Shannon went out carousing with her girlfriends, instead of
cleaning up around the house while Jack was at work, like she’d
promised.
Jack knew that Shannon needed someone with authority over
her, someone to keep her in line. And in her more reflective moments,
Shannon knew that was true. Which was why they’d both
agreed that it was Jack’s prerogative to do what it took to keep her
in line, forcefully and whenever he deemed it necessary. In short,
at any time she pissed him off, she should expect to be hauled over
his knee, shorts and panties yanked down to her ankles, bucking
and squealing as her bottom was turned a bright shade of pink.
In theory.
Shannon knew she needed correction; in the depths of her soul,
she wanted it badly. But meek submission just wasn’t in her nature.
Bare her bottom, meekly drape herself over his lap, and submit to
a beating? Not this girl.
“What you going to do about it, shorty?” She smiled as she said
it.

And there was the problem. Jack was not a large man. He
topped out at 5’2”. In his shoes. Understand that this was generally
not a big deal to Jack. He’d always been short, and he’d
learned how to compensate by projecting confidence and authority
in any situation. Most people didn’t realize he was so short
until they stood right next to him.
Unfortunately, Shannon had almost two inches on him. She was
also in pretty good shape, and worked out regularly at the gym.
Jack knew he was stronger than her, but it was a near thing. He
might be able to subdue her, but probably not without risk of injury
to at least one of them. And to Jack, fighting his girlfriend just
seemed plain undignified.
Discretion is the better part of valor, Jack knew. So he said
“Okay,” and turned and left the room. Shannon made a “hmmph”
sound, and figured she’d won. So she lay down on the couch, with
her head resting on the armrest and her pretty bare legs bent at the
knees. She started filing her nails.
Away from his infuriating girl, Jack cooled down, and formulated
a plan. After about ten minutes, he returned to the living
room, with several useful items concealed in various places on his
person.
Shannon looked up at him as he entered the room. “I’m sorry,”
he said simply.
“Well, you should be, mister!” She grinned at him, knowing
she’d won.
“Yes, Shannon, I know.” He sat down on the couch by her feet.
“Would you like it if I gave you a foot rub?”
“Oh, yes, please!” said the greedy girl, and she plopped her
bare feet on his lap. He gently massaged the soles of her feet, and
she closed her eyes and fell silent, except for an occasional contented
moan. He continued the massage, until she was completely
blissed-out.
48
“Shannon.”
“Hmmmmmm?”
“You remember what we agreed? About me taking you in
hand?”
“Uh huh?”
“I was just trying to fulfill my side of the agreement, you know.”
“But you weren’t being fair. Part of the rules is, you have to be
fair about it. And you weren’t listening to my side at all. There
isn’t anything I hate more than when people don’t play fair.”
‘And this is the girl who wants to fight dirty?’ Jack thought. ‘I’ll
show her what fighting dirty is about.’
Jack reached for something concealed in his shirt-pocket, while
continuing to rub her feet with his other hand. “Shannon, I hate
to break this too you, but there’s nothing about our agreement that
says I have to be fair.”
Click. Click. Shannon felt something metallic on her ankles. She
opened her eyes, and saw that Jack had slapped cuffs around her
ankles.
“HEY!”
Even before she had time to shout, Jack lifted up her legs, forcing
her to bend at the hips, until her feet were just inches from her face.
With his other hand, he grabbed at the back of her loose purple
shorts. Seizing a good hunk of the waistband, he yanked down
(well, up, really) forcefully; her cute little boyshort panties came
along for the ride. Shorts and panties joined the cuffs at her ankles.
Jack grasped the shorts tightly, and so immobilized her legs.
Shannon was shocked. It took more than a few seconds for the
change in her situation to sink in. Just moments before, she’d been
wallowing in the satisfaction of having bested Jack, and was enjoying
a wonderful foot rub. Now she was on her back, bent double
at the waist, her legs tightly bound together by the cuffs and shorts
and panties, her backside bare and rudely exposed (not to mention

the girlish bits between her legs). She took a few more moments to
consider her situation, and decided that she felt put-upon, and so
she expressed her concerns to Jack.
“Whaaaat the FUUUCK??! Jaaaaack! Cut it ooout! What are you
doing, you asshooole?!”
“Such language, Shannon! Not the right way to speak to your
lover, no sir.” With those words, Jack delivered two hard smacks
to her upturned, tightly stretched bottom cheeks.
“Ow. Ow! Hey, stop it! What the fuck are you doing, Jack? We
agreed I was right. We agreed!”
“We agreed no such thing, little miss brat, except maybe in that
funny head of yours.” Jack began spanking Shannon’s taut bottom
cheeks. Each smack made her wince from the sting of it. She tried
to force her legs back down to hide her butt from the smacks, but
with Jack leaning on her legs she couldn’t move them an inch. So
she squirmed helplessly as hard stinging swats rained down on
her bottom, while she screamed “Auugh! Owwiie! No, Jack, stop
it! You FUCKING bastard.”
“You really don’t want to make me mad, missy.” Smack, smack,
smack.
“Ooooh! I hate you! Yow! You said you were sorry, you fucking
liar. Ooh, that smarts!”
“But I am sorry, Shannon, very sorry. Sorry that I’ve let you get
your way for so long. Sorry I didn’t do what it took to give you
your comeuppance. But now that’s changed.” He reached down
to retrieve a thick 18 inch wooden ruler he had stashed up his pant
leg. “You want to fight dirty, miss? Then I’ll show you that I can
fight dirtier.”
“Oh yeah? You can’t–” CRAACK! “–Aaaaaaaugh!” Jack brought
the ruler down hard right across her bottom, and she screamed.
“Jack no please don–” CRACK! “Oooooh . . . This is SO humiliating.”
CRACK! “Aaah.”
49
A steady pace of ruler smacks soon had Shannon squealing like a
stuck pig. “Oh Jack, ow! Please, I’ll be good. Aaugh! I’m soorrreee
. . . ” She’ll say anything to get me to stop, Jack thought to himself.
After a few minutes, Jack put the ruler down. Looking down and
his teary-eyed girlfriend, he had the feeling a fellow gets when he’s
doing a job well. He couldn’t suppress a grin as he asked, “So, is
this starting to make an impression on you, young lady.”
“Uh, I guess so.” (Sniff.)
“I hope so. I really hate having to punish you, Shannon, but you
give me no choice.”
“Oh yeah. I think you’re actually enjoying yourself, you beast,”
she said breathlessly.
Jack wouldn’t admit it to her right then, but he certainly was
enjoying himself tremendously. Watching Shannon wriggle and
writhe as the ruler came down on her unprotected bottom, and
seeing her bottom cheeks turn a bright shade of red (with a little bit
of purple mixed in), definitely made his day. And the full-on view
of her pussy was doing some interesting things to him. But the job
wasn’t done yet, and Jack didn’t like to leave a job half-finished.
He let go of her legs. “On your feet, woman.”
“Uh, I’m a bit incapacitated, mister.”
“I’ll help you out.” He gently sat her up, then pulled her up
to her feet. She wobbled unsteadily, then leaned into him, and
wrapped her arms around his neck.
“Oh, my butt is so sore.”
“You only have yourself to blame, young lady.”
“Um, maybe it was a little bit my fault,” she admitted.
“Yep. Come over here, miss.” Taking her by the arm, he led her
(waddling) to the side of the couch.
“Um, Jack, what are you doing?” He pushed her down over the
arm of the couch, so that her bare bottom was upturned. “Hey,
come on!”

“Shannon, do you remember what I promised you?”
“Uh, I dunno. A present?” She could not see, but she heard the
clink of his belt buckle. “Jack! No! You spanked me already. No
fair!”
Jack pulled off his belt, and folded it in his hands. “I promised
that if you did not submit right away to your punishment, that I
would use the belt.”
“But, but, Jack . . . that was before. Then I gave in, and let you
punish me. Please Jack, no more?” she pleaded.
“I’m sorry, Shannon,” he apologized again, “but you did not
give in. And I keep my promises.”
“Oooh. You’re mean. You’re evil! I hate you.” Harsh words, but
Jack noted that she wasn’t swearing anymore.
He rested the belt on her bottom. “You are getting twelve, young
lady. You will stay in place, or you’ll get more. Got it?”
“Jack, please, I promise I’ll be good . . . ”
“Just say ‘Yes sir’.”
“Um . . . yes sir.”
And with that, Jack lifted the belt high, and landed a scorcher
across her bottom. She yelped. He lifted the belt again. Eleven
more times he thwacked her, as hard as he could, with the leather
belt. Eleven more times she screamed. Eleven more times she
bucked and wriggled. But Jack was glad to see that she did not
try to move, or try to cover her behind, or do anything to avoid
what was coming.
It was over. Shannon was sobbing softly. Jack stroked her hair,
and rubbed her bottom, and she began to regain her composure.
He massaged her back, legs, not to mention her red and purple
bottom, and after a while she sighed.
“Learned your lesson, girl?”
“Uh huh.”
“I think ‘shorty’ is a pretty good teacher. Don’t you agree?”
50
“Oh yeah. Um, nice job, big guy.” Her own little joke brought a
wan smile to her face.
“You can stand up, Shannon.” He helped her rise unsteadily to
her feet. She embraced him. “I’m so sorry, Jack. I promise I’ll try
to be good. Just, please don’t do that again, ever.” But she was
smiling.
“That’s really up to you, Shannon.”
“Uh huh.”
“But there’s one more thing I need to do right now.” Holding
her arms, she guided her back to the couch. He pushed her down,
lifted her legs up and around so that she was lying on the couch.
Then he lifted her legs back up in the air, exposing her naughty bits
once again.
“Jack! Nooo! No more, pleeeease. I said I’d be good!”
“Oh, you will be good,” he said with an evil grin.
“Noooo. Don’t, no! . . . Oh. . . . Oh my. . . . Mmmmmmmmm.
Oh, don’t stop . . . yes, oh yes oh please oh yes . . . ”

Chapter 12
12. Acceptance
“Pull down your pants and panties and bend over my lap! You
are going to get your bottom blistered!”
“Oh, please! Not on the bare! It’s so embarrassing,” she cried.
“Oh, come on now. I think you know you have this coming to
you. Don’t tell me you don’t think you deserve this.”
“No, sir,” she replied meekly. “I know I deserve to be punished
for what I did. But please sir, can I keep my panties on? It’s so
embarrassing. I’m not a little kid anymore.” She stamped her feet
petulantly.
“No! You know the rules. Spankings in this house are always
given bare bottom. As long as you live under my roof, you can
expect to be spanked whenever I feel it is needed. I expect you to
submit to punishment without complaint. Now get your backside
over my knees this instant, or you’ll find out how a strap across
your backside feels.”
She sighed. She knew that there was no getting out of it. Even
though she was almost eighteen years old and had just begun her
senior year in high-school only a few weeks before, her daddy punished
her the same way he had when she was eight. She slowly
unbuttoned her jeans and then with as little wriggling as she could
51
manage, slid them down over her hips. She carefully bent over
and pushed them all the way down to her ankles, for she knew
that was where her father expected them to be. As she did this she
turned demurely to the side, so that her father would not be looking
directly at her backside. It was, she knew, a pointless attempt
to protect her modesty, but she could not help herself.
She paused for a moment to steel her nerve. Then she went to her
father’s side and gently lowered herself across her father’s lap. Her
father murmured softly, “Forward a bit dear,” and she obliged him,
nudging her slim body ahead a few inches. Her bare bottom was
now perfectly positioned under his right hand, ready to receive the
full force of the punishment that would be delivered to it.
It was a punishment that she knew full well that she deserved.
Though she had protested a little bit, she had done so only to
protect her wounded pride. She had had long ago realized that,
though she hated to be spanked, she could accept the fact that her
father used spanking as punishment. Indeed, it seemed to her that
being spanked was not really any worse than other punishments,
like being grounded or losing privileges. In any case, her father
only reserved spanking for the most serious offenses, and was al-

ways fair about it. He never spanked in the heat of anger, and always
gave her a chance to present her case. And she was a young
woman with conscience, who knew that there were times when
you deserved to be punished, and that you should take what was
coming to you.
But it was hard to be so accepting when you were face down over
daddy’s knee, half naked and about to be spanked. She ducked
her head and peered back through the chair-legs at the bunched
up pants hiding her feet. She blushed involuntarily thinking of the
view her father must have. Of course, he had often seen her naked,
and she was not usually shy about her own body. But an imminent
spanking always made her nervous. She shivered.
He must have felt her nervousness. “Are you ready, dear? Are
you okay.” She was jolted out of reverie. “Um, yes, daddy.” Her
father’s concern made her feel a bit guilty of the way she had tried
to resist earlier, weakly though she had done so. She peered up
over her shoulder and looked at her dad out of the corner of her
eye. “Daddy, I really do realize that what I did was wrong, and
feel very ashamed of myself right now. I’m so sorry . . . I hope you
don’t hate me for it!” She sobbed a little.
“Oh, princess! You know I love you more than anything. I’m
upset, at you, you know, but that doesn’t change the fact that you
are my darling little girl.”
She sobbed some more, though she was glad that her father
could still so easily say he loved her, despite how angry he must
be.
Her father was touched, and said, “We don’t have to do this right
now if you’re not up to it.”
Her heart leaped for a brief moment at the thought that she
might delay her punishment, or perhaps avoid it entirely. She
could probably make it happen, if she really turned the tears on
and put on a good show; though he was strict, he had a soft heart.
52
But she knew she would not do this. It would be wrong to trick
her father that way, and her conscience would never let her forget
that she still needed to pay for what she had done.
She tried to get her sobbing under control, and then turned again
over her shoulder, and said, “Daddy, lets get this over with. We
both know I’ve got a hard spanking coming to me, so don’t feel
sorry for me.” She swallowed. “And don’t go easy on me. You
know I can take a severe punishment, and I really want you to see
how sorry I am.” She tried to sound resolute, though she could not
quite prevent her voice from quavering. “I’m ready.”
He was touched by her contrition, but could not think of anything
else to say. So he just got on with it.
“Very well, then. I am going to give you a sound spanking, as
hard and as long as you have ever been spanked before. It is going
to hurt. Before I begin, I’d like you to take a moment to reflect on
what you did to deserve this.” The were a few seconds of silence,
and she really did take a moment to remind herself what she had
done.
“Okay. As you know, you are not to get out of position. Failure
to remain in place means the strap. Get ready.”
A few more seconds of silence, and then he brought his palm
down sharply on her right buttock. He lifted it, and a couple of
seconds later delivered a sharp spank to her left buttock. He continued
to smack her bottom at a slow and steady pace, alternating
cheeks. She found it easy to endure at first, but she knew that feeling
would not last for long. After the first dozen, the force of the
spanks increased to a good whallop, and though the pace remained
the same, the effect of the repeated smacks began to build up, and
she began to whince and softly moan at each stroke.
Her legs began to involuntarily jerk after each spank; she tried
hard to keep her legs under control, for she knew that if she started
kicking her feet back far enough to interfere with the spanks, dad

would see it as “resisting”. It had only happened a couple of times
that she had “resisted” enough to get dad mad, but they were
memorable occasions. Each time he had stood her up, bent her
over the chair, taken off his belt, and delivered a couple dozen
strokes to her bottom and the backs of her thighs, as fast and as
hard as she could. Then back over his lap for the rest of the spanking!
53

Chapter 13
13. A Switching in the Wilderness
“Watch out behind!”
I looked back, to find the source of that exclamation on this beautifully
sunny and cool morning. There was the older couple we
had met at the campsite that morning. Though we’d started out
on the path while they were still having breakfast, they’d already
caught up to us. Both of them were quite fit, and seemed to be experienced
hikers. Jim, the man, had slightly greying hair; Becky, a
perky brunette, held his hand as they walked along the path, under
shady trees. We had been the only four people at the campsite;
it seemed we had the mountain all to ourselves.
I put my arm around Sonya, and we squeezed to the side of the
trail, allowing Jim and Becky to get past us. “You guys headed all
the way to the top?” I asked.
“Yup. It’s a good view up there, we’ve done it several times
before,” Jim answered, stopping a little ahead of us. “Think we’ll
see you up there later?”
“Sure! I bet we’ll get there first,” Sonya interjected before I could
speak. Of course, the brat would have to contradict me. I shot her
a warning glance.
“Um, we probably won’t make it up there, Jim. Neither of us is
55
in shape for it,” I replied. “We’ll see you later, I bet.”
“Okay. Have fun,” said Jim. “Don’t overtax yourselves,” Becky
reminded us. They turned and paced quickly along the path, and
soon were out of sight. They would probably be up to the top, and
on their way back, before we even reached our stopping point.
I turned to Sonya. “You’re skating on thin ice, missy.”
“What?” She batted her eyelashes at me. “I was just being
funny.”
“Okay, but you know we need to take it easy, right?”
“Um, yes sir.”
“Good girl. Let’s get moving.” Hand-in-hand, we continued up
the path.
Sonya sat on a boulder which lay along side the path, and
brushed the sweat from her forehead. I sat next to her, pulled out
my water bottle, and took a hearty drink.
“Sonya, don’t forget to drink!”
“Okay, okay.” She drank from her bottle, as I looked out over
the valley below. Seeing the beautiful expanse of leafy trees, trem-

ling slightly in cool breezes, made me feel calmed and relaxed.
The boulder we were sitting on was shaded by some shrubbery,
of a type I didn’t recognize, whose long and slender stems rustled
softly.
It was almost two hours after we’d met Jim and Becky. We had
ascended several hundred feet, I estimated. It certainly felt like it;
it was time for a rest. We still had a way to go to reach the stopping
point we had agreed on that morning: a large rocky outcrop along
the path, made of stunning red sandstone. Above and behind us
was a steep slope, almost a cliff face, mostly rock. About thirty feet
up was the next segment of the path, which ran under the pink and
red stone that marked our turnaround point. It seemed so close,
but I knew that we had another mile or so to go along the path to
get there.
I saw Sonya looking up at the slope above us. “I bet we could
climb up there no problem,” she said. “It’s not too steep.”
“Um, I’m not so sure,” I replied. I took a closer look. “Well, it
looks like a 70% slope. That’s enough to be very tiring to climb,
especially in our condition. And I see a lot of places where the
rock is completely smooth. I don’t think there’s anyway to climb
around them.”
“Well, maybe it’s too hard for you, but I bet I could do it.”
“Sonya, no. Neither of us is climbing here. It’s more difficult
than it looks, and we could get stuck up there with no easy way to
get back down.”
“But–”
“NO, Sonya! You are not climbing up there. It is not safe.” I
looked in her eyes. “No climbing; do you understand?”
“Um, okay.”
I yawned. I was starting to feel a little drowsy. “Let’s have a little
nap before we go on, okay?” I leaned back against the boulder.
“Okay.” Sonya settled down beside me, and I cradled her head
56
in my arms.
I jumped with a start. Sonya was not beside me. How long had
I been sleeping? Where was she?
Her backpack was not lying where she had left it. I looked up
and down the path, but saw nothing.
Then I heard an “Oh!” from above my head. I looked up. There
she was, clinging to the slope, her feet about twelve feet above the
level of the path.
“Sonya, what are you doing?” I shouted.
“I got bored while you were sleeping, so I decided to try the
shortcut.” I saw her scanning the slope above her for another handhold.
“Sonya, there’s no way to get all the way up. You need to come
down, now!”
“Come on! Let me try. Please? How far up am I?”
She looked back down over her shoulder, and I heard a quiet
“ugh” escape her lips. Clearly, this was the first time she’d looked
down, and what she saw gave her quite a fright.
“Um, maybe I better get down now,” she said weakly.
I was really scared now. Visions ran through my brain, of Sonya
freaking out and doing something dumb, or simply passing out
and falling. “Hang on! Don’t worry, if you got up, you can get
back down the way you came.”
“I don’t know what to do! Help me! I’m scared to move!” The
tone of the voice showed she was frantic.
“Be calm, Sonya. It’s okay, we can figure this out together.”
It seemed to take forever. I would guide her to the next handhold
or step, and, after much hesitation, she followed my directions.
Working this way, she was able to retrace her steps back down the
steep, rocky slope, one small move at a time. When she was almost

to the bottom, I grabbed her in my arms, and set her down on my
feet. She threw her arms about me and squeezed tight, as though
she were still high above the ground and hanging on for dear life.
After giving her a chance to catch her breath, I got her to sit down
on the boulder, and I sat next to her. Sonya was shaking as an after
effect of her big fright, and I gave her a chance to calm down.
“Thank you,” she said, after a while. She was still clutching me.
“You are most welcome,” I replied. Then I said, “Sonya, what do
you have to say for yourself?”
“Um. Well. I guess that was a really stupid thing to do, wasn’t
it?”
“Yes, it certainly was. And you knew it was before you started,
didn’t you. I seem to remember we discussed it.”
“Um, yes. We did.” I said nothing, and waited until her nervous
chatter filled the silence. “I guess I got bored, and couldn’t help
myself. I guess maybe I was trying to show off.”
“Well, whatever the reason, what you tried was very reckless
and dangerous. Climbing a difficult slope without having a plan,
and without having a partner to back you up. I’m very disappointed,
Sonya,” I said.
“Oh, I’m so sorry. I know I shouldn’t have done it. I promise I’ll
never do anything like that again!”
“But what is worse, we had already discussed it, and I forbade
you to try to climb. I’m very angry that you disobeyed me, especially
to do something so dangerous.”
I looked at her, and she looked down at her shoes, she was so
ashamed. “I’m in big trouble, aren’t I?”
“You most certainly are.” I stood up, and wandered over to the
stand of shrubbery. She stood up to follow me.
“I guess I’m going to get it good when we get home.” Unconsciously,
she moved her hands to cover her bottom. “I suppose I
have it coming.” I was carefully inspecting the shrubs, picking out
57
individual stems one by one.
“Um, what are you doing?” she asked. I had found a decent
stem, a little over two feet in length, about the width of Sonya’s
pinky, with no branches or leaves coming off it. I pulled my pocketknife
out of my pouch, and bent over to to slice at the stem near the
root.
“Hey, what are you doing?” she said, with rising panic.
“What I’m doing, Sonya, is cutting a switch.” I finished cutting
the little shrub away from its roots, and I turned my attention to
slicing away the leafy part at top.
“Noooo! Please, not that! Not here!”
“I’m sorry, Sonya, but you need to be taken care of right now.”
I finished removing the top of the shrubbery. What I held in my
hand was a slender but fearsome instrument of punishment. I gave
a swish, and was satisfied with the whooshing sound I heard. The
switch was light, but very whippy; it would deliver a painful sting.
“No, please punish me when we get home! Not here, please!
What if somebody sees? I couldn’t stand it if somebody saw.”
I extracted a beach towel from my backpack. I unfolded it and
draped it over the boulder. “No, Sonya. You need to be punished
here and now, at the scene of the crime. And the only people
around are Jim and Becky, and I’m sure that right now they are
way up at the peak of this mountain. Now take you pants and
panties down, and lie across the towel.”
“Oh! Do I have to?”
“You are going to have your bare bottom spanked with a freshcut
switch, miss. I do not want to hear any more argument; the
sooner we start, the sooner it will be over with.”
“Oooh!” But she did as I asked, unbuttoning her khakis sliding
them past her hips; the light-weight fabric fell in a little pile
around her hiking boots. With a little sigh, she did the same with
her panties. With a very downcast look, she waddled over and

ent over the boulder, resting her upper body on the towel, and
exposing her bare behind to the ministrations of the switch. Her
face was turned to her left; she could see me (and the switch) out
of the corner of her eye. I could see she was trying to see up the
path, to tell if anyone was coming.
A soft breeze suddenly blew up, and Sonya shivered.
I lifted the switch. “Ready?”
“Yes, sir.” She trembled a little with anticipation.
Whooosh! CRACK!
“Oooooh!” she screamed involuntarily. She had never felt a
switch before, and hadn’t realized how much it would sting.
Whooosh! CRACK!
“Oh!”
Again and again, the switch kissed her upturn bottom, with a
sharp CRACK! Each time, she made a little gasp, as the stinging
stroke penetrated her consciousness. Again and again, I whipped
the switch across her bottom, making sure that every part got attention.
I watched as her bottom turned a bright pink, with the
slight hint of horizontal lines marking the punishing strokes of the
switch.
Soon, she was flexing her legs on every stroke, or arching her
back, trying to do anything to distract herself from the pain. But
she gamely stayed in position, accepting her punishment.
When the green wood of the switch began to split, I stopped.
I bent down and looked directly into Sonya’s face. “Have you
learned your lesson, miss?”
“Yes, sir,” she said tearfully. “I promise, I will never do anything
dangerous like that again. And when it is a matter of safety,
I promise to be obedient.”
“Okay, Sonya. That’s what I wanted to hear. You may stand up
now.” Shakily, with the aid of my outstretched hand, she stood up.
I took her in my arms and hugged her. “It’s all over now,” I said.
58
“Thank you,” she replied.
We embraced for a while, until, suddenly, I heard the sound of
someone coming down the path. Sonya gasped “Oh!”. I snatched
up the beach towel and quickly wrapped it around her waist, tucking
it in like a bath towel.
Jim emerged around the bend in the path, followed right behind
by Becky. Stupidly, I was still holding the switch in my hand. That,
and Sonya’s pants and underwear still visibly puddled around her
ankles, meant there was no way to hide what had happened – assuming
they hadn’t heard anything, which seemed unlikely.
Becky rushed up to Sonya’s side, and took her hands in hers. I
could not hear their whispered conversation. Jim ambled over to
my side.
“So, what exactly has been going on here?” Jim asked.
“Um,” I responded. “Well. Sonya tried to climb the rock face up
there, without any help, even after I told her it was dangerous. So,
um, . . . ”
“I see. So you gave her a good old-fashioned switching?”
“Um, that’s right,” I said.
“Well, that’s all right then,” he replied. I began to feel relieved –
it didn’t seem we were going to get in trouble over this.
“It’s all right?” I asked.
“Yup. Between you and me, if Becky here pulled a stunt like that,
she knows she’d get this belt across her backside.” He winked conspiratorially
and pointed to the thick leather belt he was wearing.
Jim spoke this last quite loudly, and Becky glanced at him; I could
see she was blushing.
After a while, Jim and Becky headed off down the path a bit,
giving Sonya a chance to get her pants back on in private. Then we
gathered our things, and went down to join them. All four of us
walked back to camp together. That evening Sonya and I enjoyed
the company of our new friends around the campfire.

Chapter 14
14. Megan’s Choice
14.1 Part 1.
Megan was so frustrated she could just about spit. Sometimes her
Uncle Jack could be the most stubborn man in existence. He also
happened to be her boss, and right now he was demanding a detailed
explanation of every single change she’d made to the inventory
software. It didn’t help that he didn’t have much of a clue
how it worked in the first place. Things were getting pretty heated
between them.
“Uncle Jack, you won’t notice any difference once you actually
use it, except that it’s ten times faster. It’ll be fine. It’s the right way
to set things up. Ugh. I wish you’d stop being such a stubborn old
man.”
“Young lady, I have had it up to here with your sass.”
“Deal with it. Being the ignorant domineering asshole you are,
you’re probably not too used to taking advice from a woman. But
believe it, I’ve got my own opinions, and I’m not afraid to say
them. You don’t like it? Too bad, jackass! So don’t give me this
shit about sass.”
“Wow, kid, you don’t have a clue when to keep it zipped, do
59
you?”
“See! Sorry guy, I won’t shut up. Don’t care if you can’t deal
with it.”
“Oh, bull. I have got no problem hearing a woman’s opinions.
Girl, you don’t have ‘opinions’. You have rude insults, moronic
sarcasm and obscenities, not to mention no respect. I expect better,
even from an immature child like you.”
“What? Immature WHAT?! Let me tell you, mister, I am an
adult woman. I do half the work around here. You’d be sunk without
me. I don’t have to take that kind of shit from you. Jerk ass.
Fuckwit.” She crossed her arms across her chest, as though daring
him to challenge her.
“Uh oh. I went too far there,” she thought to herself. She decided
to put her best face on it, and glared at him defiantly.
Jack shook his head. “I can’t believe I’m arguing with a nineteen
year old brat with a potty mouth, who needs a sharp lesson in
manners.” He was talking more to himself, even though she was
standing there right in front of him. “Even if she is nineteen, she’s
really just a kid, having a whopper of a temper tantrum.”
“That’s insulting,” she said. “And mister, I’m standing right

here.”
“It’s true. You like to pretend that just because you got a high
school diploma, a car, and a salary, you’re some kind of big deal.
But I think we both know you’re really just a spoiled little brat who
could really use a trip over my knee.”
“What?! That’s absolutely ridiculous,” she stammered weakly.
“And I’m too old for that, uh, kind of thing.” She felt stupid even
as she said it. Like it’s even a question, she thought to herself.
“Whatever you say, kid. We’ll continue this little chat tonight.
Now scram, I’ve got work to do.”
Still fuming, Megan left the office Uncle Jack where ran his contracting
and construction supply business, before her mouth found
something else objectionable to say. Feeling ill at ease, and wanting
to put the confrontation with Jack out of her mind for a while, she
met up with a friend for burgers; then they went to a movie, and
then stopped for a coffee at the cafe before heading their separate
ways.
Late that evening, she drove back to her apartment. Not really
an apartment, actually; but it was a room of her own. That she
rented from Uncle Jack. In his house. The “rent” came right off
the top of the salary he paid her for doing clerical and computer
stuff at his office. Still, she was an adult now, with a place of her
own a real job. Kind of. Anyway, nothing like some of her friends,
who were still living with their parents. Her friend Michelle, who
had graduated high school the same year as Megan, actually got
an allowance for doing chores around the house, still had a curfew,
and needed permission to go on a date! Megan could come and go
as she liked, stay up as late as she liked, hang out with whoever she
liked. Uncle Jack only asked that she clean up after herself, which
was no big deal.
60
Megan was feeling unsettled. Her thoughts kept coming back to
that last thing Jack had said, before he sent her away. That thing
about that childish kind of punishment. “I can’t believe he said
that. That is soooo inappropriate, right? He couldn’t have really
meant it, right?”
(Megan had a habit of talking out loud to herself when she
thought no one could hear. Her friends and family thought it was
an endearing quirk of her personality, though of course she was
incredibly embarrassed those times she got caught having a conversation
with herself. Or just part of a conversation with herself,
which could be even weirder.)
The implications of Jack’s words ‘could really use a trip over
my knee’ conjured up ancient memories in her. The barely-hidden
threat they contained gave her butterflies in her tummy.
“I mean, children can get spanked for stuff, sure. But that’s for
little kids.”
Megan knew all about little kid spankings. In the house she grew
up in, it didn’t take much for mom or dad to put a misbehaving
child over the lap for a spanking. Both her little brother and big
sister got it some, but she got more than the both of them put together.
“And that’s because I always used to mouth off so much,”
she reminded herself.
Sometimes there would just be a few swats over the seat of the
pants. Megan had witnessed her siblings getting quite a few of
those, and of course earned a bunch of her own. But when someone
really got in trouble (“that was usually me”), they were scolded
and sent to their room; though sometimes they had to be dragged
kicking and screaming there (“I did grow out of that eventually”).
Often mom would have cause to spank her (“I’m always being
snippy with her. Used to be, I mean. I don’t do that anymore.
Mostly.”) Still more than a little angry, mom would lead her to
her bedroom by the wrist, telling her how ‘disappointed’ she was

(“ugh, I hate that part”). Once in Megan’s bedroom, she would
take Megan’s pants and panties down, put her over her lap, and
hold her firmly while she applied about a dozen sharp smacks to
her bare behind. (“It wasn’t a lot, but those really sting!”) Her
mom had to use her muscle to keep the bare-bottomed girl in
place; Megan always squirmed like a toad when she got spanked
by mom. She was deadly afraid that her friends would find out the
truth about why her family gave her the nickname “wiggleworm”.
Afterwards, red bottomed and tearful, she’d stand up, pull her
pants up, and apologize to her mother. Then she’d get to sit on
mom’s lap and get a big hug, and it was all over.
Less often, she got a formal spanking from dad. She had to really
screw up to earn that. He would send to her room to wait for
her punishment. For a kid, sitting in her room for an hour or two
waiting for her father to come and spank her seemed absolutely
unbearable. When he finally came she’d almost feel relieved, until
she saw the implement he was carrying. Sometimes it was a ping
pong paddle. When she got older, it was usually it was a hard
wooden hairbrush of her mother’s. “That was the worst! I hated
that thing.” To this day, the sight of someone holding a wooden
hairbrush made her feel dizzy.
Dad was usually pretty calm when he showed up, but she could
always tell how let down he was. He would reprimand her in a
level voice that still let her know how disappointed he was, until
she was feeling pretty low. (She really hated disappointing her father.)
Then he’d pull down her pants and panties, and she’d have
to climb over her daddy’s lap. The spanks would come slow and
hard. She tried not to squirm too much, though it was hard. Dad
did not appreciate squirming, and anyway he held her down securely
with his strong left arm.
The paddling would go on for ever, until she was bawling like a
baby. Pants back up, she’d be escorted out to the family room, and
61
made to give an apology to everyone there. Then she’d run back to
her room, get her pants off again, and massage her aching bottom.
The last time she ever got spanked, it was a little different. She
was twelve years old. She and some friends had been caught with
a joint that someone had got from an older sibling. There’d been
too much giggling, coughing and wheezing for any of them to get
much of an effect, but of course they were all in big trouble. Megan
figured all of the other kids were too old to get spanked. When
her dad finally came to her room, she was able to imagine for one
brief moment that she was also too old for spanking; he was not
holding any kind of implement at all. The moment ended when
he removed his belt. Naked from the waist down, she bent over
the end of her bed, and her dad belted her bottom until she was
sobbing.
“That was the last time. Teenagers are just too old for that.”
But when she was still a teenager, she had not been so sure. Her
dad would threaten her with a spanking from time to time, saying
things like, “Keep that up if you want a blistered behind” if she
was doing something he didn’t like. Though she was smart, she
found school pretty boring most of the time. Her teachers liked to
send home reports saying she wasn’t “living up to her potential”,
and her grades showed it. Her dad would tell her, “You have a
choice, Megan. Keep a B average, or have a meeting with the belt.”
She barely squeaked by with adequate grades, so she didn’t have
to meet his belt!
Of course, the favorite was “Your big mouth is going to make
your bare backside sorry,” when she got snippy or cursed, which
was often. Dad’s threats made her feel childish; if someone else
was in earshot, she always felt terribly embarrassed. That’s probably
why the threats usually curbed her behavior, even though he
didn’t seem willing to back them up. Except for her mouth, she
was as well-behaved you could hope for from a teenager, and she

never got into huge trouble.
“Well, except for the party incident.” Drinking alcohol was
against the rules, and going to a house party where there were a
bunch of older college kids she didn’t really know was worse. But
the worst was that the girl she came with got wasted, went off in
some strange guy’s car, and ended up in an accident and the hospital.
Megan wasn’t exactly responsible for all that. She wasn’t blameless
either. She should have made sure her friend got home safely.
“I really messed up that time.”
She could barely look at her dad when he came to pick her up.
When they got home late that night, he sent her straight to her
room. She got into her pajamas and sat on her bed, feeling sure she
was in for the worst spanking of her life. “And I deserved one.”
When her dad finally walked in the room, she thought about removing
her pajama bottoms and presenting herself for a belting
without being asked. But he only scolded her, and never brought
up spanking. “I wonder what would have happened if I’d done
that. Maybe I’d have gotten spanked after all.” Or maybe not. She
imagined her dad watching mystified as his almost-grown daughter
bending over for a spanking, and then him saying “Sweetie,
don’t you think you’re a bit old for that?”
“That would have been so funny,” she mused. ”Well, sort of
funny. Anyway, I guess he decided that I at seventeen I was too
old for for that sort of thing.
”Anyway, talking about that stuff now is silly. Dad would blow
a fuse if Jack tried anything like that.
“Still, I guess I’m kinda in trouble. I really hope Jack isn’t too
mad.” The fact was she liked working for her uncle. Though he
could be a hardass sometimes, he did give her a lot of responsibility.
And she loved being away from home, and sort-of living on
her own.
62
“I was a real jerk to Jack today. He’s right, I don’t know when to
shut it. I’d be pissed off too, if someone talked to me like that. Shit.
I got to make it up somehow.”
She resolved to give jack a real good heartfelt apology when she
got home. “That’s the adult thing to do. I’ll swallow my pride,
own up to what I did wrong, and promise to be a good obedient
employee from now on. Maybe I’ll say he should dock my pay, or
something. That would show I mean it. He knows I’m saving up
for college, so he probably won’t actually do it. Anyway, when he
sees how grown up I’m being about it, he has to forgive me, and
everything will be okay again.”
She took a deep breath. “Jack was just mad. It’s just a thing he
says cause he’s angry. There’s nothing to worry about.”
When she got back to the house, she heard the tv in the basement.
Jack must be home. She kicked off her sandals by the front
door, then snuck up to her room, which had once been her cousin
Becky’s. Becky and her other cousin Emily had long since moved
out on her own; her aunt had passed away ten years ago, and Jack
had never remarried.
“I need a minute to calm my nerves before I go talk to him,” she
told herself, when she got up to the room and turned the light on.
She had to blink a few times before she could figure out what she
saw. Her suitcase was sitting on the top of the bed, opened. Empty,
but Megan figured out the implication. “Oh, crap! I didn’t mean
for things to go this way. I don’t want to have to go back home!”
Her other bags were in a pile on the floor. She sat on the bed, tears
welling up in her eyes, so it was another minute before she noticed
it.
Lying innocently on the bedside table was a hairbrush, made of
dark wood.

Megan shivered.
She picked up the brush. Under it was a handwritten note:
Megan.
You have a choice to make.
Jack.
Megan felt the world spin around her. This couldn’t be happening,
could it?
14.2 Part 2.
“Oh my god, he can’t really mean what I think he does, can he? It’s
not possible.”
Megan sat on the bed in her room in her uncle’s house, and
reread the note from Uncle Jack she’d found underneath the old
hairbrush that was sitting on the bedside table. It still read, “You
have a choice to make.”
“Oh shit,” she said out loud to the room, “he is such an oldfashioned
bastard, he just might mean it.” She wrapped her arms
about herself, shaking. “It’s not going to happen. No way am I
going to put up with that. I guess I deserve something, but not
that. I’m not a kid anymore,” she sobbed.
She grabbed a tissue, and wiped her eyes. “I don’t want to go
back home,” she sighed. “What am I going to do?”
The knock on the bedroom door startled her. “What! Oh, . . . uh,
you can come in, I guess.” Quickly, she blew her nose in the tissue;
she didn’t want her uncle to see her with a nose full of snot.
The door opened. There was Uncle Jack. Jack was easy to read,
and Megan could tell from one look at Jack that he had his mind
63
made up, and she knew when that happened there was no changing
it. Still, she had to try somehow, because the alternatives were
chilling.
“Hey, what’s up Uncle Jack?” She smiled wanly at him.
He crossed his arms. “You found my note.” A statement, not a
question.
She gave a sniffle. “But Uncle Jaaaack, I don’t waant to have to
go back home.” She didn’t mean for it to come out like a whine,
but she just couldn’t help it. “I like it here. I like working for you. I
know I’ve been a real jerk to you, and I’m reeeeally sorry about it.
I promise I’ll do better. I just wanna chance to make it up to you,
Jack. Please let me stay, pleeeease!”
Jack looked grim. “Kid, things just can’t stay the same here. I’m
not going to work with someone who hasn’t learned common courtesy,
even if she is my brother’s daughter. I will most certainly not
let my employee, or my niece, speak to me using language fit only
for a convict. If you don’t like it, go back to your parents and do
some more growing up.”
“But Uncle Jack, I can change! Come on, can’t you give me
another chance? Please pretty please?” She used her very best
wheedling voice, which occasionally worked on her father.
“I offered you a choice, Megan.”
She played dumb. “I don’t know what choice you’re talking
about. You just want to get rid of me.” She pouted.
“I know for a fact you are no stranger to that,” he said, looking
significantly at the hairbrush that was still sitting in her lap.
“I really don’t know what you mean.” She blushed even as she
said it.
Jack sat down at the other end of the bed. “I know how Mike
disciplines his kids. It’s the same way I deal with my daughters,
actually.”
“But, but, that hasn’t happened since I was a little kid,” she

gasped out.
“Not that little. And since he stopped, I’ve told Mike more than
once that his youngest teenaged daughter could use a trip to the
woodshed. Guess what? He agrees with me. But he couldn’t bring
himself to do it, he says. Didn’t want to damage your precious selfesteem
or something. I love the little kid, but my brother’s always
been a bit soft. A bit too tender-hearted when it comes to his kids,
if you ask me.”
“Dad is not soft! Don’t you go calling my daddy soft.” She
smiled at the idea of her dad as meek and mild, and Jack smiled
like he knew it was absurd. “He knows how to dish it out, you
better believe it,” she said. “He just figured I outgrew it, is all.”
“Don’t be so sure. That time your friend got in the accident, he
says he almost gave you the belt. I still don’t know why he held
back.”
“Oh, yeah, really? Wow. I didn’t know that. Huh. Yeah . . . I
guess I don’t know why either,” she trailed off.
There was mutual silence for a minute. Then Jack said, “Kid, you
do good work. I’m sure changes you’ve made with the inventory
software are going to improve things, once we get all the kinks
are worked out. Just because I get annoyed with things changing
doesn’t mean I can’t appreciate that it’s needed. I’d really like to
keep you on, let you get some real world experience while you
save up for school. And it’s nice to have someone else in the house
again.”
He sighed. “But I’ve got along for 20-odd years without office
help, and I can get along again. Megan, either we say goodbye, or
we play by my rules from now on. I won’t insult you by telling you
what those rules are; you’re a smart little cookie, you can figure it
out.”
Jack stood up. “Make up your mind soon. You know where to
find me.” And he was gone from the room.
64
Megan sat up on the bed. She picked up the hairbrush and traced
out the grain of the wood with her fingertips. “I bet Becky and
Emily must have got paddled with this. Maybe I should call them
and ask them how hard Jack spanks. Ha ha!” she laughed mirthlessly.
Then she thought, “I wonder if they got it on the bare? Ugh.”
Knowing how old-fashioned Jack could be, she sadly decided it
was more than possible.
“I haven’t acted very well, I know. That’s not right; I’ve been a
complete jackass,” she corrected herself. “But why does Jack have
to be so stubborn? Why can’t we work something out?”
She sighed. “This is crazy. I have to get out of here. I’m going to
start packing now.” But the suitcase remained empty.
She sat there for a long while, kicking her heels against the floor,
every so often blurting out “Not gonna happen.”
Finally she stood up. “This feels just like sitting in my old room,
waiting for dad. I can’t stand it anymore.”
She found Jack sitting in his den. He liked to hang out there
in the evenings after a long day at work. She stood coyly in the
doorway, hands behind her back, hardly daring to come in any
further. Her eyes darted between Jack and the floor.
“Hello, Megan.”
“Hi, Uncle Jack.”
Jack stood up from his recliner. Megan looked up at him, feeling
small.
“So, you’ve made a choice yet?”
“Yeah . . . ” she mumbled, but she couldn’t think of what else to
say. She could only stand there, twisting her foot back and forth

nervously. So her answer was to hold out the hairbrush in front of
her like an offering in front of her.
Then the words finally poured out. “I’m so sorry, Uncle Jack! I
know I have a filthy mouth. I can’t help myself sometimes. I know
I deserve to be p-p-punished. Just please don’t send me home. I’ll
try sooooo hard to be good. Just let me stay, and I’ll take a sp- . . .
sp- . . . you know. I got it coming. But really, it’s okay if you just
use your hand. The ones I got from dad really hurt, and I always
got the message. I promise, if you just use your hand, I’ll get the
message for sure. The brush thingy is like just for a warning, right?
In case I start to backslide, I’ll just have look at it and get set straight
again. Right?”
Jack took the hairbrush out of her hand. He didn’t respond to
her pleas, saying only “I don’t know how your dad handled this,
but we’ll do this just like with my girls, up in your room. After
you,” he said, as he directed her towards the stairs.
“Um, does this have to happen right now this minute?” she said
while climbing the steps, with Jack right on her heels. “Dad would
always give me a little time to myself to get, uh, mentally prepared,
before it would happen. Can’t we wait til later? Or tomorrow?”
“This is happening now, miss,” Jack said grimly.
“Oh.”
Before she knew it, they were in her room. Feeling her fate closing
in in her, she had a sudden urge to run. Instead, she said,
“Please don’t use that brush, Uncle Jack! Please, can’t you just use
your hand? I promise to be a total angel if you just use your hand.
The hairbrush really really huuurts.”
Jack looked at her thoughtfully. “We are talking about a spanking
here, no? Remind me what a spanking is supposed to feel like.”
Megan giggled despite her alarm. “Yeah, I know. It’s supposed
to hurt.”
“It’s supposed to hurt enough to make you think ten times be-
65
fore risking another one. As you always like to remind me, you’re
practically all grown up now. No little hand spanking is going to
make enough of an impression on a big girl like you.”
Megan couldn’t think of anything to say to that. Jack mused on,
“Didn’t Mike eventually graduate you kids to the belt? I never
used a strap on the girls, but I suppose I could give it a try.”
“No, no, no. No, that’s alright,” she said hurriedly.
“Hairbrush, then. Remember, my rules.” Jack sat down on the
bed, and said the other thing that Megan was dreading. “Get those
shorts down, miss. Panties too.”
“Uncle Jaaaack! Noooooo!”
“My rules, Megan. You don’t like it, you can leave right now.
But if you stay, I expect you to follow my rules, no matter what
you might think about it. Got it?”
She wished she could sink into the floor and melt away. “yes
sir,” she said, eyes cast down.
Trembling like a leaf on a tree in the autumn, she made to unbutton
her blue denim shorts. She felt strange, having to undress herself
in front of Uncle Jack. She stood there, paralyzed. She couldn’t
bring herself to do it. She could only look at Uncle Jack pleadingly.
“Come over here, baby,” Jack said. “The girls never liked to take
their own down either.” He unbuttoned her shorts, loosened the
zipper, and briskly pulled them down to her knees, revealing her
bright red boyshorts. After only a moments hesitation, he hooked
his thumbs in the waistband and stripped her panties down in one
motion.
She stood there, bare to the world. She resisted the temptation
to try to cover herself; she figured that doing that would on make
her feel even more childish than she did already.
“So, uh, should I like, get over your lap now?”
He arched his eyebrows. “There’s an idea. No time like the
present.”

Gingerly, she settled herself across his lap. She was a small girl,
and Jack was tall with long legs; the tips of her toes just grazed the
floor. Her head and tummy rested on the bed. She cupped her chin
in her hands. Better get comfy, I may be here a while, she thought
to herself ruefully.
She was startled when Jack tugged on her right elbow. “Come
on, wiggleworm,” he said.
She wouldn’t have thought anything could make her blush now,
but that did it. “Oh come on. I’m a big girl now. You don’t have
to worry about that,” she mumbled. But she gave up her arm willingly,
and Jack bent it back and held it securely by the wrist at the
small of her back.
Megan was acutely conscious that Jack had a front seat view of
her bare bottom. Even in her best moments she was embarrassed
by her backside, which was round and generous compared to her
otherwise slender figure. “I hate my big ugly stupid butt,” she
thought to herself. “Getting whacked is about the only thing it’s
good for.”
“We both know your backside is very well acquainted with the
hairbrush,” Jack said, “so you know what to expect. But it’s been
quite a few years since your last paddling, I’m sure you’re out of
practice. So I’m going to start you off with my hand before using
the brush. You might like to take notes for comparison purposes,”
he concluded grimly.
“Ha ha, very funny,” she replied sourly.
“You won’t be laughing in a minute. Here we go.”
“Wait, Uncle Jack!”
“What is it now?”
“Uh . . . um . . . ”
“No.”
SMACK!
The first spank was delivered with a swift wrist-flick to Megan’s
66
right bottom cheek. She squealed a girl-squeal of surprise, and felt
the sharp sting of the swat, and then warmth creeping over her
buttock. Jack followed with a spank to the left cheek. No squeal
this time; just an almost inaudible groan of pain.
Jack slowly delivered solid smacks to her upturned buttocks,
leaving time between each spank to let the sensation sink into her
skin. His method was methodical. He made sure every part of her
backside, from the plump swell of her cheeks to the crease of her
thigh, got its share of hefty wallops from the hard wooden implement.
Yet he made sure he never fell into a set pattern.
Megan pursed her lips, and sucked in her breath, as she endured
her very first spanking in seven years. Even though the smacks
came as regular as clockwork, she could never guess where the
next one would land; each one felt like a new surprise, sending
a lightning strike of agony through her body right down to her
toes. She vowed to be brave, and willed herself to keep still. She
hated her reputation as a wriggler, and didn’t want to reinforce
whatever ideas Jack had about that. “This is okay. I can get through
this. I can get through this,” she repeated mentally to herself like a
mantra.
After awhile (it could only have been a minute or two, though to
Megan it felt like an hour) her bottom felt like she was sitting on a
hot stove. She tried to be stoic, but she just couldn’t do it anymore.
Each spank made her flex her toes and give a tiny gasp. A stinger
to the base of her right cheek made her tense against Jack’s tight
grip. An unexpected smack across the crack of her bottom made
her kick her heels up.
“None of that,” Jack said when she did that; then he gave a couple
of quick hard smacks to the backs of her thighs. Taken by surprise,
Megan shrieked and bucked. “Oh, that was not nice,” she
whimpered “not nice at all.” Jack had to smile at the idea that up
to now everything had been peachy.

Jack gave Megan another ten sharp spanks in quick succession.
She gasped after each one. She wanted to protect her butt, but she
could not slip from Jack’s grip, and her arm stayed locked tightly
behind her. She was straining so hard that it took her a moment to
notice when the spanks had stopped.
Jack warmed his palm on her now well-pinkened bottom cheeks,
resting his hand so as to give the muscle of his arm a chance to
recover. The gentle caress on her buttocks, after the hot stings of
the spanks, felt incredibly soothing to her. Her rigid body went
limp and supple. “Oh,” she sighed.
“Don’t get to comfortable yet, miss,” he said gruffly. “The main
show is still to come.”
Megan shivered.
14.3 Part 3.
Megan’s freshly spanked bottom tingled warmly. As she lay over
her uncle’s lap, she wished she could rub the tingly feeling away.
But Uncle Jack had held her right arm tightly behind her, and she
could do nothing to ease the stinging.
Jack did not give her much chance to relax. “I hope that put you
in the proper frame of mind, Megan,” he said. “Let’s talk about
what you did to get this, before we get on to the real punishment.”
“Jack, you don’t have to do that. I’ve learned my lesson already,
really!”
“I promised you a paddling, miss, and you will get a paddling,
long and hard. It will end when you’ve learned your lesson, and I
will be the only judge of when you have learned your lesson. You
will accept the punishment I decide on. All griping and pleading
67
will be ignored. This is how naughty children are punished in this
house. Do we understand each other?”
“Um.” It took a while, but eventually she replied, “Yes sir. I
understand.”
“Now,” he said as he reached for the brush, “I’d like you to
answer some questions.” He tapped her bottom lightly with the
brush. “Oh!” she squealed, surprised at the touch of the smooth
cold wood.
“Megan. Do you believe I am a ‘fuckwit’?”
“Um, uh, heh heh. I mean, no sir!”
“Can you explain why you decided to call me a fuckwit?”
“Um. I dunno.”
“Try?” He startled her with another light tap with the hairbrush.
“Eek. Er. I said it because I was frustrated. And because of my
temper. I have a bad temper. When I get frustrated, I mean.” She
paused. From Jack’s silence she guessed that wasn’t enough. “Because
I have trouble controlling my temper sometimes, and then I
get nasty and say mean ugly nasty things.”
“Saying ugly things makes you feel better?”
“No, sir, no. Not really. I don’t feel any better. It makes me feel
. . . I feel ashamed, sir.” She buried her face in her free hand.
“Any idea why you have this temper problem?”
“Oh, I dunno why . . . maybe I got away with too much as a kid,
especially when I got older.”
“I think I understand. Let’s see . . . do we need to discuss why
you needed to call me – what was it? – an ‘ignorant domineering
asshole’.”
“Nooo! I’m sorry, sir, I’m sorreeeee!” She twisted her head
around to look up at him, tears welling up. “I’m a silly stupid
rude little girl. I’ve got bad manners and a potty mouth. I’ve had
this coming. For a long time. I deserve it. Just do this, Uncle Jack.
Sir. Please.”

“Okay, sweetie. I will.”
He gripped the brush. Megan clutched the folds of the blankets
with her free hand, and tried to ready herself as best she could for
what was coming.
But nothing happened for at least a minute. “He’s taking his
sweet time, the bastard,” she thought (but thankfully did not say
aloud). In those moments Megan had too much time to think.
(Which was exactly the effect Jack was after; being a father of two
daughters, he’d learned a trick or two.)
Megan felt small and afraid. She was intensely aware of her
upturned bottom, hot and stinging as it was. “I wonder what I
look like,” she thought. She took inventory of what an imaginary
onlooker might see: awkwardly sprawled across a big man’s lap,
lower garments rucked at her knees, arm twisted uselessly behind
her, tears staining the blush on her cheeks. Crowning the picture
were her other cheeks, no doubt glowing with a fresh blush of their
own. “I must look as spanked as I feel,” she thought. “That’s how
Uncle Jack will see me from now on . . . like a sorry, snot-faced little
spanked girl. So much for looking all grown-up.”
But that kind of thinking was merely a distraction from an
old hard-wood haircare implement that she could not see, but
knew was poised to be unleashed on her already-tender buttocks.
“Dammit, Jack, let’s get this over with,” she thought. “I’ve survived
this before; I can survive it again. It’s the waiting that’s the
worst.” It made her want to scream.
Just then, the hairbrush landed on her bottom with a solid
smack. And she screamed.
“Yeaaargh!”
The hairbrush landed again with a solid smack on Megan’s already
red behind. “Ow!” She exclaimed. Another smack, and
another “Ow!”
“Holy crap,” she thought, “I forgot how much this hurts.” An-
68
other smack, and she squealed “oh oh oh, it burns! I can’t take this,
please stop!”
Jack’s answer to her plea was given in the language of brush
swats on bare rump. It was a language she understood all too well,
even if she was a little out of practice. She answered in the traditional
way, with gasps and shouts of “oooh!” As hard swats set
fire to her bottom, she began to buck and squirm and kick her heels
involuntarily in time with the beat of the brush.
A particularly hard smack to the sensitive sit spot on her left
buttock made her curse. “Aaah! Holy fuck, that fucking huuurts!”
“Do you REMEMBER that your POTTY MOUTH got you here,
young lady?” yelled Jack, who hardly ever shouted, even when he
was mad.
“Oh, shi- . . . I mean, I didn’t mean it, I’m sorry Jack I’m
soreeeeee . . . ” Her response degenerated into ragged gasps, as
Jack beat her bottom with a new fury. Hairbrush smacks smoked
her bottom; the pain in her bottom took control over all her other
senses.
Megan had no dignity now. She scissored her legs uncontrollably.
Her panties stayed bunched at her knees, while her shorts
shimmied down her legs until they finally sailed across the room.
She bucked and squirmed against her uncle’s hold, but Jack left
arm was still too strong for her, even as he kept up a steady rain of
swats with his right. She had no words left; she could only bawl
like a baby.
She continued sobbing long after the paddling ended. Jack let go
of her wrist. Still prone across his lap, she wiped bitter tears from
her eyes.
When her breathing started to shallow, Jack lifted her up and
held her in his arms. Without any sense of shame, she sat, bareassed
as she was, on his lap, and melted into his warm embrace.
Her crying eventually trailed off to breathless little sobs.

As Jack held his niece close in his arms, he grew thoughtful. “I
love all my family,” Jack murmured. “Little girl, you’ve been almost
like a third daughter to me. Since Donna passed away . . .
well, it’s been hard. And then my girls both left home for school.
It’s no fun living in an empty house. It’s been good to have you
around, sweetie.”
He paused. “Those things you said to me today truly hurt.
Maybe you can’t understand how just much.”
She sniffled. “I’m sorry, Uncle Jack,” she said simply. A hint of
a smile crept over her face. “I think I have idea now how much
words can hurt.”
He chuckled. “Yeah, maybe you do now.” He stood her up on
her feet. “I’ll see you tomorrow, little miss wigglebottom. Sleep
well.”
“Good night, Uncle Jack.”
The next morning, Megan shyly came down to the kitchen,
where Jack was drinking coffee and reading the paper.
“Good morning, kiddo.”
“Hello. Good morning, sir,” she replied formally, as she went
to the coffee maker to pour herself a cup. Jack could see she was
walking a little stiffly.
“How are you feeling?”
“Pretty sore, sir.” She grimaced as she sat down at the breakfast
table. “My butt is basically one big bruise at this point. Black and
blue all over.”
“Don’t worry. It’ll heal in time.”
“Uh huh. I know, sir.”
Jack looked at her. “You can still call me ‘Uncle Jack’, you know.
I don’t require ‘sir’.”
69
“I’d kinda rather stick with ‘sir’, sir.” She shrugged. “Maybe it
will help me with my, uh, respect issues.”
“Hmm . . . you may have a idea there.” He paused significantly.
“So, Megan . . . let me know when you’re ready for our talk about
the new rules we’ll have around here.”
“I guess I’m ready whenever, sir.” She sighed. “I’ll miss being
independent. But I know things have to change now. Am I gonna
have to have a curfew?” she asked.
Jack looked at her with surprise. “But Megan, I don’t want to
take away your independence. You are a young woman, almost all
grown up, with your own life to live. I’m not going to tell you how
late you stay out, or what friends you can have, or anything like
that.”
“Really, uncle Jack?! I mean, sir?”
“Really, Megan. The only rules are these: Always speak respectfully
to me, to anyone else in the family, or anyone we do business
with. No cussing in front of me, or anytime on the job. Do your
job diligently, without slacking off; that goes for chores at home
too. What else . . . don’t get arrested, or let me catch you doing
something that might land you in jail. That’s about it. I think that’s
pretty reasonable, don’t you?”
Megan beamed. “Yes sir, it is! I can do all that. Thanks Uncle
Jack!”
“The one thing is this. There will be consequences whenever
you don’t live up to my reasonable expectations. Always. No exceptions.”
“Of course. Consequences,” she repeated grimly. “Should I dare
to ask what kind?”
“I think you can guess.”
“Uh huh. Spanked. I know.” She looked at him pleadingly. “But
does it have to be with the . . . on the . . . ”
He nodded.

“Hairbrush. Bare,” she said, answering her own question. “Oh
well. The way I’ve acted, I guess that’s only fair. But don’t worry,”
she said brightly, “I’ll be soooo good, you’ll never have to.”
“Don’t get cocky, kiddo. One rude comment from you is all it
will take to get your bottom blistered.”
“Oh. Well, I won’t let it happen, sir,” was all she could say. But
she knew herself better than that. Mouthing off was a habit it was
going to take a while for he to break. She had to resign herself
to the idea that, even with the best will in the world, she would
probably soon find herself back over Jack’s knee, bare bottomed
and squealing.
“And in the extreeeeeemly unlikely case it does have to happen,
sir, . . . Well, you said I still had some growing up to do. And I
guess I do. Maybe some, uh, consequences will help with that.”
“Well said, sweetie,” Jack replied.
After that, there was a long, embarrassing silence, which didn’t
end until Jack stood up and said, “Time to go to the office. Would
you like to a ride to work with me?”
“Oh, sure, Uncle Jack. Let me grab my purse and stuff.” She
jumped up (groaning a little “oof” as she did) and headed for the
stairs. But at the foot of the stairs she stopped, turned around, and
came back to the kitchen. “Sir, I just wanted to say . . . thank you,
sir.”
“It’s no problem. Saves on gasoline.”
“I mean, thank you . . . for everything. I think I made the right
choice.”
“Oh. You’re welcome, wiggleworm. And I’m glad.”
She smiled happily and bounded up the stairs.
70

Chapter 15
15. Second Chances
“It’s a waste of time, doc.” Johanna’s artificial joints creaked
as she settled her ancient body onto the table. “I’ve had quite
enough life, thank you. I have no desire for simulated pseudolife.”
A raspy buzz underlaid her voice, a side effect of her artificial
nanofiber lungs.
“I’m sorry, Admiral, but it’s out of my hands. In a few weeks,
your neural degeneration will make it impossible to record the
state vector of your consciousness. We are required to take an imprint
before it’s too late.” He arranged a series of black panels
around her head: quantum entanglement devices, which would
make an instantaneous copy of her mental state and record it on
a petaqubit storage medium. “I understand how you feel now,
ma’am. But as long as there is a possibility that you will change
your mind before the end . . . ”
“Not fucking likely.” She sighed (which her high-tech lungs
made sound like a whine). “Even in the matrix, I’ll still remember.
I have too many memories.”
The doctor returned to his console, and flicked his fingers on his
readouts. “The plague war was a terrible time, I know. I can’t
pretend to understand what it was like for you, Admiral. I have
no clue what kinds of horrors you saw.” He looked at her. “But
71
believe me when I tell you, Admiral, you’re a hero, and everyone
knows it. You saved countless lives; millions of people escaped
the Nanoplague because of you. I hope those count as positive
memories for you, to go alongside the bad ones.”
She closed her eyes. There was no way to explain. She had seen
death often during the war; that was part of being a soldier. She
had ordered thousands of obedient subordinates to their doom, in
so that others might live; that was part of being a commander. She
had made the truly hard choices, to sacrifice some so that more
might have a chance to live.
“Yes, of course they count too,” she lied.
“You must have many pleasant memories from the time before
the war.”
“Do I look old enough to remember the time before the war?”
She gave him a whithering look.
“I’m sorry ma’am, I just assumed . . . ”
“Oh, keep your britches on, doctor. Of course I remember when
the war began. Over 200 subjective years ago for me. Now it’s hard
for me to find memories that go back farther.”
The doctor flicked his hands over an access pad. “No happy
childhood memories, then?” he asked.

“I suppose I was happy once,” she said. “I was brought up on
a fusion-powered interstellar freighter called the Going Concern. It
was a whole world in itself. The first twenty-odd years of my life
we were in transit between systems; the ship was the only thing I
knew. Every single person I knew or cared about was there. They
were my people.”
“You have family?”
She became thoughtful. ”It was my mother who raised me. She
was a good woman. She died before I grew up. I didn’t know my
father.
“Then after my schooling, I apprenticed to the chief engineer.
He taught me everything about fusion drives and deflector shields,
and how to act decisively when the tech started misbehaving. He
was a strict master, but always fair. He trained me up to be a ship’s
engineer myself, and I learned command-skills too. Everything I
became, I owe to my mother, my master, and all the other people
on that ship.”
She sighed. They were all gone now. ”I should have been happy
there. But somehow I got the idea that there was more to see of the
universe than the hull of a cargo vessel.
“We were decelerating into our destination when we found out
about the holocaust of Tau Ceti. As soon as I could, I jumped ship
and enlisted in the Fleet.”
I ran away, she thought to herself. I turned my back on my home.
I I never deserved to go back.
“I never saw that freighter again, or anyone from it. So, I have
no family left.” And with of the stress of war, and the rigors of
command, she had somehow never had the time to develop close
intimacy with anyone. She was alone now.
Were any of them still alive? she wondered, not for the first time.
Shame had always held her back. Now, a new thought occurred
to her. She didn’t have much time left, and maybe shame didn’t
72
matter anymore.
“Okay, Admiral, we’re ready to go,” the doctor said, distractedly
fiddling with his console. “The imaging process is instantaneous. I
promise you won’t even notice it happen. Just hold still. Ready?”
“Get it over with, then.”
“Here goes.”
Johanna was blinded by bright light. After a few seconds, the
light resolved into an image. She was standing on a high green
palisade, overlooking a deep blue sea. Soothing warmth and light
radiated from a stellar object high above. The sky was a color she
could not describe; perhaps made of light from a part of the spectrum
human eyes could not see, or neural tissue could not process.
A little ways away, past the balustrade lining the cliff-face was a
cobblestoned plaza, equipped with tables and chairs. Happy looking
people sat there, drinking and talking. She stepped in that direction,
barefoot through thick grass. She found she was wearing a
light summer dress, which caught in the breeze as she walked. She
caressed her own body with her hands. Her skin was soft, supple,
and unblemished. Her muscles were firm and taut. Her breasts
were firm and perky. She felt none of the aches and creaks of old
age that had weighed her down only seconds ago. This was her
body as it was on the cusp of womanhood.
“Welcome to L’isola Verde, Johanna.”
Startled, she turned around. A man stood there, watching her.
Tall, with a powerful frame, he had a shock of black hair and a
brown complexion. He looked young, but had an aspect that suggested
an inner maturity far beyond his apparent age. He held
some sort of flexible tube in his hand. He seemed familiar, somehow.
“I assume I’m dead. So, can you explain the me why fuck I
ended up here?” she demanded.
“Of course I can. Your conscious state was imaged and recorded,

as I’m sure you recall. After you died, that imprint of your consciousness
was uploaded and instantiated in a computational matrix.
In particular, inside the sub-matrix running this simulacra,
which we like to call L’isola Verde. It’s beautiful here, is it not.”
She looked around. It was indeed very beautiful. She thought it
must be a replica of some Mediterranean island paradise, as could
be found on old Earth before the nanovirus came.
“Yes, it’s pretty. I know about the imaging. But I explicitly refused
to have my consciousness instantiated!” She was shouting
now. “So mister, stop spouting the obvious and tell me what the
fuck is going on.”
“Johanna, before you died you changed your mind, and authorized
an upload. I realize this must be very disorienting to you. I
sympathize, so will ignore your rudeness. For now.”
Feeling a little rebuked, she said, “Um, sorry. It’s just kind of
weird to wake up dead, you know. So . . . please tell me what I
have to do to get my program deleted.”
“I’m sorry, Johanna. I’m afraid I can’t do that. Your instantiation
comes with some . . . constraints.”
“WHAT? What constraints? I know my fucking rights, which
include the right to delete my own fucking instantiation at my own
fucking convenience, no questions asked.”
He proffered the tube he was holding. It looked like a rolled up
sheaf of parchment, bound by a brilliant lavender ribbon. On it
were the words “Last Will and Testament”.
“What is this?”
“Before you died, you prepared a will, which specifies the precise
parameters of your post-mortal instantiation. You are bound
by its terms. It’s all quite legal, and there is no appeal. You can
check for yourself if you’d like. One of those terms is the waiving
of your right of self-termination.”
“Holy crap. Is that actually possible?” She took the scroll from
73
him gingerly. “Perhaps I’d better read this. I wonder what else the
bitch who wrote this has in store for me.”
“The scroll is merely an access token to the text of the actual will,
which I can assure you is lengthy and exceptionally boring. It’ll be
easier if you let me summarize the main points.”
She folded her arms across her chest. “Well go ahead, mister
know it all.” She was feeling more sure that he was someone she
once knew in the flesh, but she could not place him.
“I’m told that in your last years you became troubled by feeling
of guilt, about your actions in the war, blameless though you seem
to most people. Not to mention guilt for running away from your
childhood home. Is that right?”
She gulped. “I guess so. What’s this got to do with all this?”
He looked at her. “Your instantiation is to be your punishment.
You will be subject to a regime of servitude, strict discipline, and
painful correction. That’s what the will says.”
“Punishment?” She knew it must be true. “Oh shit. What the
hell have I done to myself?” She shivered, thinking of the kinds
of tortures she was capable of devising, especially in a simulation
matrix where any horror could be made real. Her voice rose with
alarm. “This can’t really be happening. This isn’t really. I won’t do
it, I won’t let you do touch me.” She panicked and turned to run
away, as though it would do a bit of good.
She found she could not move. The man gripped her tightly
about the waist. Before she could cry out, he gave her a hard smack
on her bottom.
“Ow!” she cried.
“Calm down, girl.” He gave her several more hard spanks, then
let her go. “I have not excused you, Johanna,” he said. They both
stood there for a minute. Johanna felt foolish and stupid.
After a while, he said “Are you ready to hear the rest of what I
have to say?”

She nodded mutely.
“L’isola verde is a fairly conservative simulacra, compared to
some. Our simulated bodies are close-to-human-baseline expressions
of the bodies we had in real life. We talk, eat, drink, shit, and
fuck much as we did in life.”
Johanna broke in with “Wow. Computer generated shit. Sounds
like a blast.”
He ignored her disruption. “We have a nice little society here,
something like paradise, though a workable one. We’re pretty
much like most human societies we have known. Most of what
we need is provided, but each of us is also given some necessary
work to do, so that we have a chance to feel useful. Nothing taxing,
and otherwise we are free to do as we wish. Right now, my project
is you.”
He continued. “Inside the simulacra, you instructed in your will
that you are not free to do as you wish. Instead, you will be given
work to do. Tedious and humble tasks. Sometimes you you might
act as a serving girl, bringing food and drink to others. Sometimes
you’ll be a mule, carrying goods on your back. Sometimes you’ll
be cleaning latrines, or shoveling computer generated excrement.”
He smiled grimly.
“Prison with hard labor. Is that what you’re telling me.”
“Something like that.”
“And what if I refuse to do the work?”
“You grew up on a cargo vessel, Johanna. I’m sure you remember.”
She was surprised at the turn of subject. “Yes, the Going Concern.
It was a long time ago.”
“How did they handle discipline when you were growing up?”
Still surprised, she said, “On the cargo vessel? They were strict,
like you’d expect on a slow interstellar vehicle. When you’re
twenty years away from human civilization, there’s no help if
74
something goes wrong. Loyalty to your ship and your people is
everything. You learn that major errors of judgment or disrespect
to your elders will earn you the stick. After that kind of upbringing,
military discipline in the Fleet was a breeze.” She screwed up
her face; she could sense where this was leading.
The mysterious man smiled. “Did you get the stick, Johanna?”
She blushed. “Sure. Just like any other kid, I guess.”
He said nothing, so she filled in the silence. “Mama never hesitated
to put me over her lap, when I needed it. If I still didn’t mind
her, she’d smack my backside with the kitchen-spoon. Got a few
paddlings in school. We’d have to bend across our desk right there
in class, bare butt in the air, so we could be made an example of.
At that age the embarrassment is worse than the pain, even though
we all got it the same way.” She wondered if the dark haired man
was going to paddle her bottom; the thought gave her a squirmy
feeling she had not felt for decades. The idea was alarming, yet
it felt right somehow. She was sure now she knew this man; but
how?
“But no more whippings once you finished with schooling?” he
continued.
She smiled. “That’d be true for most people, but I was ambitious.
I wanted to be a ship’s officer. So I got myself apprenticed. Masters
were expected to use corporal punishment on their charges. Mine
did. He was pretty enthusiastic about it, actually.”
“Beat you often, did he?”
“Well, he wasn’t shy about it, if that’s what you mean. If I ever
did something careless or inattentive or disrespectful, he’d pull off
his belt and whip me right where we were. I’d shuck my trousers
down and touch toes for him to strap my bare behind. I didn’t dare
move until he was done, even if I was in tears.”
“Sounds like he was nasty and cruel.”
“Oh no. Not cruel. And never nasty.” She mused. “He always

expected me to give my best, and no less. Which was fair, because
he always gave the best himself. He was the most patient and understanding
teacher, and I knew if I did my best I had nothing to be
afraid of. I respected him more than anyone else I have ever met.”
As she spoke, memories flooded into her mind, that had been
buried while she was still flesh and blood. She had not merely respected
him, but worshiped him as only an impressionable youth
could worship her teacher and master. She had treasured the corrections
she received from him, painful though they were, as tokens
of his love.
She wiped tears from her eyes, and looked into the eyes of her
master.
“Paulo? Is it really you?”
He nodded. “It is.”
“You seem different.”
“You knew me as I was in middle age. It’s no surprise you didn’t
recognize the young man’s body I’m wearing now.”
There was too much to be said, so they said nothing.
He was the first to break the silence. “You deserted us, Johanna.
You left everyone who cared about you, and you never looked
back.”
“I meant to come back.”
“But you didn’t. Perhaps you were too scared to come back to
us as a deserter.”
She bit her lip. ”It wasn’t fear. I knew there’d be a price to
pay. Even if I returned of my own will, I could expect a couple
of years in the brig, and who knows how many whippings. Not a
nice homecoming to look forward to. But Going Concern was my
only true home. I could never leave it forever, I thought.
“But there was a war to fight. No one expected it to last long, but
it did. I couldn’t let down my brothers and sisters in arms, so when
my first ten years were up, I reenlisted. Same thing next time, and
75
the next. Anything else would make a deserter two times over. It
was what I had to do. And once we won the war, you were gone,”
she finished sadly.
“We couldn’t make it through the war, Johanna,” he said. “We
made a a half-dozen more runs after we left you, always afraid the
war would get to our destination ahead of us. Finally, we were
stranded at epsilon Eridani. Plague was at all the systems within
reach. We had nowhere to go. We had to cash out just to survive.
Going Concern was stripped for parts. With the money we
collected, some of us settled on Eridani. Many found positions on
other ships once trade started up again. Our people ended up dispersed
through human space.”
“So there was no home for me to back to.”
“Going Concern wasn’t going anymore. But we who had been
a part of that ship kept in touch across the light-years. We still
remembered what we had. And we wondered about our prodigal
daughter.”
She looked at her feet, unable to look him in the eye. “I’m so
sorry. I should have tried harder to find you. I guess you found me
in the end.”
“Actually, you found us first, though damn all if you didn’t leave
it to the last minute. I died on Aldebaran decades ago,” he continued.
“My consciousness was instantiated in the L’isola matrix; it
reminds me a little of my boyhood on old earth. Not long before
you died you got in touch with the few of us who were still in the
flesh, and they got you in touch with me. You devised a will, and
here we are.”
“Here we are,” she echoed. “So, . . . what happens now, sir?”
“Now, Johanna, you get the stick. Strip.”
Her mouth gaped wide as her tummy fluttered. With a glance
over at the plaza, she asked, “Here, right in front of all those people?”
He didn’t say anything, but his steely-eyed expression told

her she should obey. “Of course. It won’t be my first public spanking,”
she muttered. “Just like old times.” She shimmied the thin
little dress over her head, and let it fall on the grass. Now naked,
she wrapped her arms about herself.
Paolo snapped a slender green branch from a nearby tree. “You
know, I always wanted to try a switch on you. The willow tree
in the arboretum on Going Concern put out some really whippy
shoots. But living biomatter was far too precious to waste on
naughty backsides.” With a knife he quickly cleaned the branch
of its leaves.
He pointed to the low balustrade at the edge of the plaza. “Put
your elbows on the rail,” he said. “Shoulders down, bottom high,
and arch your back. I’m sure you remember the drill.” She bent
over and pressed her forearms in the cold marble surface. Before
her a beautiful sheltered harbor was laid out, ringed by white
beaches and green woody highlands. This is such a beautiful place,
she thought. Under different circumstances, I could be happy here.
“You have such a lovely round, spankable bottom, Johanna. Just
as I remember it in the flesh. Do remind me to pay my compliments
to the computational core for its outstanding simulation of your
lovely rump.” Johanna had to chuckle at that. His compliment on
her bottom secretly delighted her. She wiggled her lower-half at
him unconsciously.
He became serious again. “Here is some information you need
to know, Johanna. Your body image deviates from the benchmarks
of this simulacra. Normally, our pain thresholds are capped; we
can’t feel intense pain in the matrix. For obvious reasons, your pain
threshold limits are disabled. On top of that, your will stipulates
that pain response in your buttocks and thighs be enhanced by a
factor of three.”
She winced. Remind me to thank the bitch who came up with
that one, she thought to herself.
76
“In that case, could I ask you go easy on me, Paolo? I mean, if
it’s going to hurt triple . . . ”
“Johanna Chen!”
She withered in the face of his sudden vehemence.
“Johanna Chen, you have been convicted of crime of desertion
from the polity of the cargo ship Going Concern. As a runaway from
your people, you are subject to their justice. As the nearest available
representative of the polity of Going Concern, I am authorized
by said polity to inflict lawful punishment upon you. In view of
the circumstances, that you deserted your people in a time of war,
and that you failed to return to them in their time of need, you
are subject to the maximum lawful penalty: an indefinite period
of enforced servitude, enforced by and augmented with corporal
discipline, to be applied at my sole discretion. Do you accept this
penalty, Johanna?”
She shivered uncontrollably. She’d boasted she was not afraid of
the penalty for desertion. Another lie.
“Yes, sir,” she replied meekly.
Johanna steeled herself for the first cut. She was surprised when
Paolo bent down by her ear and spoke to her in a low voice.
“You were my always favorite pupil, Johanna. Like the daughter
I never had. In some ways.” He looked away. “I assumed I meant
something to you. And then one day you were gone. You could
have at least had the guts to say goodbye.”
He choked up with emotion. “Eventually I forgave you in my
heart. I understood that even though I loved you, you couldn’t
possibly feel the same way.”
He stepped back, and raised his hand to deliver the first cut.
Tears filled her eyes even before she heard the whistle of the supple
limb and felt it’s bite, first cold, then hot.
Paolo switched her hard and fast, layering cuts across every
square centimeter of her broad behind. She hopped and bucked

each time the switch creased her rear. When she jumped up and
tried to cover herself, he grabbed her wrist, held her down, and
planted angry red stripes on her thighs. She squealed. When the
switch began to unravel, he pulled off his belt and swatted her
now-crimson buttocks. She howled.
He threw the belt down. He applied meaty spanks to the swell
of her buttocks with his powerful hand. He spanked endlessly. She
sobbed eternally.
Johanna was still bent over the balustrade when she became
aware of her surroundings again. How long it had been since the
spanking stopped? Did time even have meaning in the matrix?
Only the gentle caress of Paolo’s hands on her shoulders told her
that the spanking was over.
“I treble my compliments to the central core,” he said. “Exceptional
realism, wouldn’t you say.”
“Oh, my, yes, very authentic,” she heard herself reply conversationally,
as though they were just two friends admiring the view of
the harbor. “It still burns.” He massaged her neck and back. She
smiled. “You can rub it. If you want. I don’t think I’ll jump if you
touch. Carefully.”
He delicately tickled her welted bottom. She melted.
“I always wanted you,” she murmured. “Of all the men I’ve
met, no one could compare to you. When I left, I was afraid to
come back. Because I knew you’d hate me.”
She half-expected him walk away, or to catch her up in his arms
and kiss her passionately. But he merely continued to caress her
upraised bottom.
“The will you wrote stipulates your bondage, like I told you. It
can’t be changed,” he said eventually. She wondered if he had even
heard her. “You’ll have to do as I say. You’ll surely be be punished.
77
Often.” He pinched the swell of her buttock, and she squeaked.
“But I don’t think we will need to repeat this ordeal again.”
“I hope not. I’m so sore.”
“We’re going to be spending a lot of time together, Johanna,” he
said carefully. “That will give us a chance to get to know each other
again.”
She smiled. “It’s something to look forward to, Paulo.”
He gave her a playful smack.
“Eeek! Hey!”
“I seem to remember that a certain dewy-eyed apprentice of
mine was required to address me as ‘sir’, lest she suffer painful
consequences. Does that sound right to you?”
“Um, yes sir. I remember it that way too, sir.”
Still fondling her bottom with one hand, he dipped the fingers of
his free hand into the cleft between her legs. She yelped in shock
and pleasure.
“My, you are a juicy one, aren’t you,” he said, brushing his fingers
over her hidden treasures.
“Mmmmmmmhmmmm,” she replied.
Another, not-so-playful smack.
“Yikes! I mean, mmmhmmm sir!”
“Stand up, Johanna.”
She turned around and faced him.
“There’s another stipulation of your will that you need to know,”
he said. “Orgasms are not allowed without permission.” She
gaped at him. “So don’t even attempt to diddle yourself. I’ll be
informed, and the consequences will be severe, I promise you.”
He was grinning.
“But sir, I’m so, so . . . I need . . . please?”
“If you’re a very good girl, I may allow you a reward from time
to time.”

“Oh. I see, sir. The carrot, as well as the stick.” She looked
meaningfully at the bulge in his trousers.
He burst out in laughter. “I had no idea my little apprentice had
such a filthy mind. What else do I have to learn about you?”
“I guess we have a whole afterlife to find out.” She grinned.
“Sir.”
78

Chapter 16
16. What Jen Found Out
Jen sipped the last of her fruity rum concoction. “Ready to go
soon, Sandi?” she said. “Didn’t Malcolm say he’d have dinner
ready at 6?”
“Oh, we’re fine,” Sandi replied breezily, swinging off her
barstool. “I need to take a trip to the ladies. If you can snag that
bartender, get me another Manhattan, won’t you please.”
“We’ll be late. It’s almost 6 already,” Jen shouted after her, but
Sandi had already vanished into the after-work bar crowd. Jen was
puzzled by Sandi’s laid-back attitude. She’d always had the impression
that Sandi’s husband was a bit of a stickler for being on
time.
Sandi’s phone buzzed, and Jen picked it up; a message from
Sandy’s husband. Idly, she tapped the icon. She knew she
shouldn’t snoop, but she was bored. And she’d been close friends
with both Sandi and Malcolm since college, so what the heck!
She saw it was a text message with a photo attached. The text
read
U r late, naughty girl. We test new toy tonight.
The grainy dark photo confused Jen, until she realized it was a
picture of a hairbrush.
79
Jen gasped with surprise, and read it again. No, it really looked
like Malcolm was threatening to spank his wife with a hairbrush.
Jen had known Malcolm even longer than Sandi, and had even
dated him briefly in college. But Malcolm wasn’t really her type,
she’d decided; he was too tame and easygoing for her tastes. Still,
she knew that he was a thoroughly decent and caring man. They’d
remained friends. Jen was the one who introduced him to her
friend, and his future wife, Sandi, and Jen was delighted that they
made such a good match.
Could it be that Malcolm and Sandi had a kinky side she had
never known about? She could imagine it of Sandi, though she’d
never glimpsed any sign of it. But safe, unadventurous Malcolm?
If she’d known it when she was dating him, things might have
turned out very differently.
“Hey, Jen, did someone call me?”
Jen nearly jumped out of her skin. “Um, no. I mean, uh . . . ”
Sandi took the phone from Jen, and looked at the message on the
screen. “Oh,” she said flatly. “A text from Malcolm..”
“Um, I looked at your message by accident, kind of,” Jen said. “I
shouldn’t have, but I didn’t think it’d be private. I’m sorry.”

“Oh, well. Don’t worry, it’s OK, I guess,” Sandi answered slowly,
as she sat down. “We’ve known each other practically forever. We
can’t really keep secrets from each other, right? Hey, did you remember
to get me that drink?”
Sandi waved at the bartender and got her Manhattan, while Jen
slurped the dregs in her glass. Sandi looked at her friend, and said,
“I can tell you’re wondering about it.”
Awkwardly, Jen replied, “Um, no, I mean, it’s really none of business
. . . ”
“It’s okay Jen. I have something to share with you, girl.” She
grinned coyly at Jen.
“As you can see,” Sandi continued, “this is a picture of the new
toy I got for Malcolm, and he’s been just dying to play with it all
week. It’s an old hardwood Mason-Pearson hairbrush, a real antique.
Cost a mint, anyway, though I’m sure I’d never heard of it
until Malcolm started dropping hints. He does love his toys.”
She sipped at her drink and continued. “Anyway, I promised
to give the new gadget a good test run,” she continued. “But I’ve
been bringing home so much work all week, and I’ve been putting
him off. Poor man, and he’s so patient! He’ll get to have a go at me
with it tonight.”
“Have a go at you,” Jen repeated.
“Yeah,” Sandi replied. “And I don’t mean he’s planning to brush
my hair.”
Interpreting Jen’s stare as confusion, she clarified, whispering
into Jen’s ear, “Spanking, Jen. Malcolm likes to spank me. Actually,
Malcolm has a bit of a thing about spankings, always has. Bet you
didn’t know that.”
“Wow,” Jen stammered. “I mean, wow. I’ve known both of you
for years, and I just had no idea.”
“It’s not something to bring up in conversation, you know. If
someone asks, ‘How was your evening?’ I’m exactly not going
80
to be like: ‘Hubby and I went out to the theater, then we went
home and he put me over his knee and spanked me.’ It’s just a bit
embarrassing to come out with something like that, you know.”
That made both of them giggle. “Oh yeah, I can totally understand
that,” Jen said.
“It’s kind of a private thing. Anyway, you’ll keep this to yourself,
won’t you? I don’t mind sharing with you, but Malcolm’s kind
of bashful about it, and he’d be utterly mortified if anyone knew
about his thing.”
Jen promised Sandi she would never tell a soul. While getting
up the gumption to confess her own secret interest, she pressed
Sandi some more. ”You know, I never guessed you’d like that sort
of thing.
“Huh? Who says I like it?”
Jen was puzzled. “But, but, . . . You must get something out of
it, right?”
“I get a sore butt out of it, if that’s what you mean.”
Seeing her friend’s puzzlement, Sandi continued. “Maybe it
sounds like a fun sexy game to you, but there is nothing fun about
getting a spanking. Not the way Malcolm likes to do it. Getting
spanked hurts.”
Interpreting Jen’s look as concern, she continued, “Don’t get me
wrong. It hurts, but I can definitely deal with it. Don’t worry, I’m
not getting abused, out anything like that. Malcolm is a mensch.
He would never really hurt me. You know that.”
Jen nodded. “Yeah, I know. Even so,” she added, “if you don’t
like it, why do you put up with it?”
“It’s hard to explain, Jen.” Sandi paused reflectively. “I love Malcolm
completely. He such a wonderful and considerate husband.
I just want to do what I can for him. It makes Malcolm so happy
when he spanks me, I just can’t say no to him. It’s almost worth
it just to see that big silly grin on his face! Not to mention that he

gets totally turned on by it.” Sandi grinned sheepishly. “So what if
he likes to whack my behind now and then. I can deal with it, and
I still think I’m getting the better part of the deal. Does that make
any sense to you?”
“Yeah, it kind of does,” Jen said.
Sandi finished her drink, stood up, and wrapped her arms
around Jen.. “I’m so glad you found out, Jen. It’s such a relief
to be able to share this with someone else. Sometimes it feels really
weird to have a secret like that. Ready to go? We are late enough,
and I don’t want to keep Malcolm waiting any longer.”
“You are late, young lady.” Malcolm was smiling when they
arrived at the house. He reached around to squeeze his wife’s bottom,
while giving her a kiss.
Greeting Jen, he said, “How have you been, Jen?” giving her a
chaste hug as he did so.
“Pretty good, Malcolm. Sorry we’re late,” Jen said.
“No big deal. You girls get your cute butts over to the table. The
spinach casserole’s been cooling for a while, so you might want to
give it a bit of a nuke before serving it. Help yourself to some rolls.
I’m about to take the chicken out. Jen, is Cabernet OK?”
Malcolm’s cooking was always a treat, and this time was no exception.
After dinner, while Malcolm and Sandi cleaned up in the
kitchen, Jen (whose polite offer to help was turned down) wandered
with her second glass of wine into the living room. On the
coffee table was the same hairbrush in the grainy photo on Sandi’s
phone.
Jen picked up the brush. It felt surprisingly heavy. The bristles
were stiff. She traced her fingers across the wood grain on its flat
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side. “So Malcolm is going to smack this across Sandi’s backside,”
she thought. She felt squirmy just thinking about it.
“Would you like your drink topped off?” Sandi popped her head
around the entryway from the kitchen. “Ah. I see you found the
toy.” She came over with the wine bottle and emptied the remainder
into Jen’s glass and her own. She sat next to Jen on the sofa. “A
bit scary looking, don’t you think?” she whispered conspiratorially
“Is he really going to, you know, spank you with it? For real?”
Jen said in a hushed voice.
“Oh yeah, definitely. Probably right after you leave.” Sandi
looked serious. “Because there’s a reason, you see. When he puts it
out on the table, it’s his way of letting me know I’m getting it for a
reason. Malcolm absolutely loves it when he has a reason to spank
me. He says it makes it so much more real, you know, when it’s
about being punished.”
“Oh.” Jen gulped, then said, “So, what’s the reason now?”
Sandi smiled. “Remember, we were way late leaving the bar.
And I didn’t even text.” She winked at Jen. “It’s been weeks since
there’s been a good reason for a spanking. So I figured I’d arrange
a good one for tonight. Clever, no? My hubby deserves a special
treat! And he even gets to use the new toy on me too. The poor
man will think he’s died and gone to heaven.”
Sandi took a sip from her glass. “Of course,” she said ruefully,
“I wont feel so clever when I’m getting my bottom blistered. Ah,
well,” she signed, “that’s what we put up with for love, isn’t it?
Mamma said that even a happy marriage comes with its share of
pain. Though I don’t think getting smacked with a big old hairbrush
is precisely what she meant.”
Jen hefted the brush. What would a swat from this feel like, she
wondered. “I can’t believe you’d put yourself through this, Sandi.
You hate pain. You even scream when you rip off a band-aid.”
“Yeah, I know! Its weird. You know,” she added, “when Mal-

colm first wanted to spank me, right after the wedding, first I was
like ‘absolutely no way, mister!’ But he so was eager, like a big
puppy dog, I just had to give in. So I told him OK, but only if
it doesn’t hurt. Just little love taps on my butt. It didn’t work,
though.”
“What do you mean, didn’t work?”
“Malcolm says the point of a spanking is to make an impression.
He wants to know I can feel it. He wants to see me jump and
squirm after each spank. He wants it to feel real. So I’d lay there
and pretend it really really hurt. I’d carry on and scream stuff like
‘Oh Malcolm, stop it, I can’t take it anymore.’ ”
Sandi emptied her wine glass. “But you know I’m no actress. It
was fake stuff, and I wasn’t fooling him a bit. It was always such a
disappointment for him, and you know I felt real bad about it. So
finally I just said to him ‘OK guy, I can tell this is no fun for you,
and I want to make you happy. So just go ahead and spank for real,
and let’s see what happens.’ ”
“Wow,” was all Jen could think to say.
“Uh huh. Now when I get a spanking, I cry and kick my heels,
and believe me it is a very authentic experience. It is a real ordeal,
and my butt is always burning the rest of the day. Of course, Malcolm
thinks its all great fun, silly man.”
“What’s great fun, dear?” Sandi and Jen looked up to see Malcolm
standing at the entryway, arms crossed on his chest.
“Oh, hi honey! I didn’t see you there. I was telling Jen about,
um, our bowling nights. With the Hendersons, you know. How
you enjoy it so much.”
“It sounded to me, Sandi, as if you were telling Jen about our
little secret. The secret you promised you would never tell anyone
about.”
“Malcolm, I, I . . . I didn’t mean to. One thing led to another, and
. . . ” Malcolm came to her side, took her hands, and pulled her into
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a tight embrace.
“I thought we were going to keep this our little secret.”
“I know!” She buried her head into his shoulder. “But Malcolm,
this is Jen, our oldest friend. Maid of honor at our wedding. She’s
perfectly fine about it. You know we can trust her.”
“Yes,” he said eventually. “I know she would never tell a soul,”
he said, looking straight at Jen.
Jen shook her head. “No, no, of course not.” She made a gesture
of zipping her lips.
“Can you forgive me?” Sandi asked.
“Of course I’m going to forgive you, sweet cheeks.”
At this point Jen excused herself and went to the bathroom. On
her return, her friends were on the sofa, Sandi sitting on Malcolm
lap, nestled into his broad shoulders.
“Maybe I’d better be going,” Jen started weakly, but Sandi interrupted,
“Oh no, Jen, please stay! We were going to watch that Iron
Man DVD; you are welcome to join us. Or we could play a board
game, if you prefer. Or whatever else you’d like to do.”
“You’re not fooling me, dear. Jen, now that you know our little
secret, you might as well know that my wife is scheduled to get her
cute little bottom paddled just as soon as we say our goodbyes.”
Malcolm grinned at Jen. “Sandi’s just trying to put it her ordeal off
as long as she can.”
“Sheesh, Malcolm. I am just trying to be hospitable to our guest
and dearest friend,” Sandi said.
“Hmm. I think I know how to solve two problems at once,”
Malcolm said. “Now that you know all about what we get up to,
Jen . . . perhaps you’d like to stick around and see how my lovely
wife gets herself spanked.”
Sandi perked up. “What? Dear, I’m sure Jen has absolutely no
interest in seeing you paddle me. Right, Jen?”
Before Jen could respond, Malcolm said, “After hearing all about

it from Sandi, you must be curious to see her get a good bare bottom
smacking.”
“Well, um, I guess I’m kind of a little curious,” Jen admitted. She
felt herself blush scarlet; she hoped her friends wouldn’t notice.
“Are you two serious?” Sandi said. “I mean, getting a spanking
right in front of someone else, even Jen . . . I don’t know about
that.”
“I’m sure Jen won’t mind seeing your bare butt spanked,” Malcolm
replied, managing to miss Sandi’s point. “You two were
roommates together for years. She’s seen it all, haven’t you, Jen?”
“That’s true enough,” Jen admitted. “I’ve seen Sandi in all sorts
of embarrassing situations. Hey, remember that time when you got
completely wasted at some party, and you threw up all over your
little black dress. . . ”
“Ugh, please don’t remind me of that.”
Jen continued, “She threw up in the bathroom and nearly passed
out. I had to peel her clothes off, stick her in the shower to rinse all
the barf off, and then put her to bed. So I’ve seen her at her worst.
Isn’t that right Sandi?”
“Oh thank you very much for bringing back that memory. You
are such a good friend, you little twerp.”
“Well, that settles it, Jen is your oldest friend, and I know you
two have no secrets. I’d love to have Jen stay and watch the show.
Don’t you agree, dear?”
“Oh, all right dear, if you want her to stay.” Sandi sighed.
“Pull up a seat, Jen, and get ready for the Sandi-kicks-and-screams
show.”
Jen did as Sandi suggested, eagerly choosing a chair with a good
view of the couch where Malcolm and Sandi were sitting.
Sandi wriggled around from her sitting on Malcolm lap, until
she was lying on her tummy. “I guess I’m ready, honey.”
Malcolm patted the round skirt-covered bottom perched in front
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of him. “Not so fast, dear. Remember, this spanking comes with
a reason. You were late, and you didn’t text or call. That’s an automatic
spanking in this house. We won’t even get into how you
blabbed everything to Jen. You know the drill.”
“Aw, honey! Do I really have to do that?” Sandi whined.
“I insist dear.”
“Oh, all right.” She stood up, and stood in front of him. She
clutched her skirt nervously. Glancing at Jen, she said, “This is just
a little playacting thing we do. Malcolm really likes the realism. It
makes me feel pretty self conscious, though. Ugh.”
Malcolm unbuttoned the cuff of his right sleeve, and turned it
up to his elbow. “We’re waiting dear.”
“Um, yeah. Here goes.” Sandi cleared her throat; her next words
were in a childlike voice. “Sir, I’ve been a bad girl.”
“Tell me what you’ve done, young lady.”
“Welllll.” She twisted the hem of her skirt in her hand as she
spoke. “I was late getting home, even though we had a time set for
dinner. And I forgot to call or text and stuff.”
“That was very thoughtless of you, wasn’t it? You can be such a
silly girl sometimes.”
“Uh huh.” As a whispered aside to Jen, she added, “This is part
of the game, you see. You know I didn’t really forget . . . ”
“Sandra Michelle!” He surprised Sandi with his vehemence.
“You are in enough trouble as it is.” He cracked his knuckles. “Tell
me what happens a naughty girl, Sandi.”
“Um . . . she gets spanked.” Pause. “On the bottom.” A longer
pause. “Bare bottom. Sir.”
“Correct, Sandi. Now, panties down please.”
Sandi grimaced as she reached under the hem of her dark blue
knee length skirt. She shimmied her panties down; they settled in
a bunch just above her knees. She waddled over to Malcolm, lifted
her skirt, and draped herself over his knees. She reached out to

steady herself against the carpet.
Without any pause, he delivered a couple of firm stinging
smacks to each of the upturned buttocks.
“Oof!” she grunted. “You really enjoy taking me by surprise,
don’t you.” She kicked her toes against the carpet as Malcolm
spanked the fleshy swell of her bottom. “Ugh! You are such a bastard.”
“Yes, dear,” Malcolm said. “It’s true, I am a real bastard when it
comes to punishing my naughty little wife.” He grinned. “Watch
closely, Jen. You’ll see Sandi change her tune.”
“Oh lord,” Sandi groaned, “why do men always think everything
is a game they have to win? Oowwoww.”
Malcolm was spanking harder and faster, delivering a sound
spank every couple of seconds to some part of her rear. Jen
watched transfixed. Her friend’s bottom-cheeks were crowned by
a prominent fleshy swell. Jen was fascinated by the way the jiggled
and rebounded after each swat, and she leaned in to her a
better view.
Jen own butt tingled as she imagined what such a punishment
must feel like on her own bottom. Sandi’s reaction suggested that it
must hurt quite a bit; she was now crying out softly after every few
spanks, and occasionally her bare feet pounded a tattoo against the
floor.
Still, it was clear Sandi was holding up. Soon Malcolm stopped
spanking, and began to caress his wife’s bottom. Jen figured the
show was over now.
“Aaah, that feels sooo nice. Mmmm.” Sandi sighed, and let her
body go limp, while he rubbed her bottom for several minutes.
“That’s the stuff. You can just keep doing that all night, mister.”
Jen began to think this was the appropriate time to excuse herself.
Until Malcolm said, “This is just the interlude, dear.”
“Oh, hush you. I don’t want to hear about that right now,” said
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the spanked wife, still draped over her husband’s lap. “That was
plenty enough.”
“No can do, love. You know the rules. Could you get me that
brush, Jen?” Malcolm asked.
“Please? Can’t we save the brush for some other time?” Sandi
said.
Jen handed over the brush, and he gently pressed the flat side of
the brush against Sandi’s pinkened cheeks.
“Oh! Cold!” Sandi exclaimed. “Ugh. I am really going to regret
getting that brush for you.”
“I sure hope so. That’s what makes it all worthwhile.” He lightly
tapped her bottom with the brush. “Ready for the main course,
sweet cheeks?”
“No! You see, Jen? My husband is evil. Evil! Of course I’m not
ready, you cruel man. But that doesn’t bother you a bit!”
“That’s right love. Pure concentrated evil, and you married me.”
Malcolm gripped the brush in his right hand. “Watch carefully, Jen,
and see what effect our new toy has on this naughty minx. Hand,
dear.”
At this, Sandi reached back with her left arm, which Malcolm
grabbed at the wrist and pinned at the small of her back. “I have a
tendency to struggle,” Sandi explained sheepishly.
“She used to be worse,” Malcolm said. “Now it takes a real
whacking to make her jump. After all the spankings shes had,
Sandi’s built up a cast iron butt.”
“Oh, what a lovely thought, dear. That makes me feel sooo sexy.”
Malcolm grinned. “You know I adore your beautiful behind,” he
said, squeezing her bottom cheeks as he spoke.
“Hmmph,” was all Sandi could say.
With that Malcolm lifted the brush and smacked across his wife’s
bottom with a quick flick of the wrist. The impact resounded with
a crack, and Sandi’s bottom jiggled at the impact.

Malcolm peppered Sandi’s backside with rapid-fire swats of the
brush. The swats, delivered with a quick snap of the wrist, did not
seem very harsh to Jen, yet she could see that Sandi reacted with
increasing alarm. On the first swat, Sandi gasped audibly. After
the next few, she kicked back her heels. Then a plaintive moan,
followed by cries of “Oh . . . oh . . . . oh my god.” After receiving
several smacks in succession at the top of her thighs, she squealed
and kicked her heels again.
“Feeling this, dear?” Malcolm asked, even as he continued to
swat her quivering cheeks.
“Holy shit, it stings! Yeeow. It stings like hell!”
“Excellent. I’m glad you’re enjoying this dear. I know I am.
Thank you, dear. This brush is such a lovely gift.”
“Oh, fuck you!” Sandi shouted amid the swats, to which she was
now involuntarily wriggling.
“Language, dear,” Malcolm said. “You know that’s not acceptable.”
He lifted the brush high this time, and cracked it down hard
on Sandi’s left buttock. Sandi squealed. Nineteen more deliberate
and full force swats were applied to Sandi’s buttocks in alternation.
Sandi yowled and bucked, and strained against Malcolm’s tight
hold on her. Jen was a little frightened at the vehemence of Sandi’s
reaction. After the last swat, Sandi sobbed, and Jen could see tears
streaking her face.
“That’s all, sweet. We’re done now.” Malcolm tossed the brush
on the floor, and gathered his sobbing wife into his embrace. Sandi
cried into his shoulder. “There, there, he said, you did beautifully.
That was a really hard spanking, and you took it well. I am so
proud of you. You are such a brave girl.”
“Uh huh. I am a very sore girl, you mean,” she said, wiping
her eyes with her sleeve. “And a stupid girl, for getting you that
brush. Those last ones were real scorchers. I can still feel them.”
She sniffled. “I hope you enjoyed yourself.”
85
“Oh, I did. Simply incredible. And you were incredible too.
Sweets,” he whispered, barely audibly enough for Jen to hear it,
cradling her head in his hand, “I am so constantly amazed that you
put up with my strange tastes. I am so blessed that I’m married to
such a generous wife. I know I can’t possibly deserve it. I love you,
sweet cheeks.”
“I love you too, evil bastard.” They kissed passionately.
Feeling awkward at being a spectator at such an intimate moment,
Jen picked up the brush from the floor, stood up, and wandered
to the other side of the room. She examined the brush, running
her fingers across the back, wondering what kind of damage
such an implement might do to her own chubby cheeks.
Jen became aware that the whispered conversation of her married
friends was becoming heated. Still she was startled when Malcolm
asked her, “Is this really true, Jen?”
“What’s true?”
“What my wife says. That you peeked at our private cellphone
messages.”
“Oh, uh, yeah. Uh huh. But I didn’t mean to snoop. It just kind
of happened.”
“That was naughty of you, Jen,” he said.
“It was. I’m really very sorry,” Jen said.
“I have an idea,” Sandi said brightly. “I think Jen needs a spanking,
too! Don’t you agree, dear?”
Jen was wide eyed. “What?! You have got to be kidding, right?”
“Why would I kid, Jen? If I can take one, you can too. And you
totally deserve it.”
“Sandi, are you sure about this?” Malcolm asked.
“We’re just talking about a little bottom smacking among
friends. You haven’t worn out your arm yet. I know that from
experience. And I know you want to.” Jen could see that it was
true. Malcolm was excited by the idea.

“Hey, were you ever spanked growing up?” Sandi asked Jen
suddenly.
“Um, no,” Jen said cautiously. “Never ever been spanked.” It
was true. As much as she’d imagined it, she had never even admitted
her fascination to anyone.
“Then I’ll bet you’re curious to find out what its like.” Sandi
got up from her husband’s lap, smoothing her skirt down, while
kicking off the flimsy panties that still clung at one ankle. Taking
a stunned Jen by the hand, she led her to the sofa where Malcolm
was sitting. “You’ve been a bad girl, Jen. So this is a spanking with
a reason. You can’t get away from a reason-spanking. Anyway,”
she added, “it’d be real nice not to be one getting spanked for a
change.”
Jen’s heart palpitated as she stood in front of Malcolm. Surely
this was all just a joke, she thought. Sandi was having fun at her
expense, but surely Malcolm would have nothing to do with it.
The idea his large hands would not strike her bottom was strangely
disappointing.
“Well, Jen.” Malcolm cleared his throat. “It seems my sweet
darling wife has asked me to provide you with a sound spanking.
And I have to agree that you deserve one. But,” he added, “only if
you’re willing, Jen. This is up to you. Okay?”
She was scared, yet excited beyond belief. If it had been anyone
else making the offer, she would have backed away. But she
figured she could trust Malcolm.
“Okay,” Jen gulped.
“You’re sure?” Malcolm asked again. “Once we start, there’s no
going back.”
Jen nodded.
“Well then. Pants down young lady, and prepare to be spanked.”
In a daze, Jen unsnapped her slacks and wriggled them down
over her hips. Jen gave Malcolm her hand, and he guided her
86
over his lap. He sat back on the couch, so that she could lay her
more ample frame on the couch, rather than suspend herself precariously
over his knee as Sandi had. Draped across his lap, her
face was pressed into the sofa cushion, while her panty-clad bottom
was turned up smartly over his knee. She was aware that her
backside was not one to draw stares, unlike Sandi’s; Jen’s buttocks
were broad and a bit chubby, without the ostentatious curvy swells
of Sandi’s.
“Lift up your hips, Jen.” Malcolm commanded. Compliantly she
did so. “Sandi, would you like to do the honors?” Though she was
sort of expecting it, Jen squealed as Sandi unceremoniously tugged
Jen’s panties down.
Sandi sat down gingerly in the seat vacated by Jen. “Ready to
find out what a spanking is all about, Jen? Honey, don’t forget to
take her wrist.”
“How could I forget.” Malcolm gripped Jen’s arm just as he had
his wife’s. “Are you ready for your first spanking ever, Jen? It’s
going to be a real one, just like Sandi got. I know Sandi wont be
satisfied with anything less.”
Perched precariously over Malcolm’s knee, Jen began to have
second thoughts. “Um, I don’t know if I’m ready. Maybe you better
go easy on me.”
Sandi laughed. “Oh, don’t be a baby, Jen. Need any help keeping
her in place, hun?” Sandi asked.
“I’ll let you know, dear,” Malcolm said.
Jen felt embarrassed to be the subject of discussion by her
friends, especially as she was bare-assed and about to be spanked.
Well, this is what I’ve been waiting for all my life, she thought. I’m
going to get spanked just like a naughty child.
Jen heard the first smack an instant before she felt it, and she
squealed. “Ow! That hurts!” More spanks targeted her bottom,
and she squealed again. “Oh, oh, oh,” she cried. She beat her feet

uselessly against the sofa cushion.
“See, that’s what a spanking feels like, Jen,” Sandi cheered from
the sidelines. “Hurts, doesn’t it?”
“Ow, ow, it does!” Jen cried plaintively. She squirmed and
kicked her feet as Malcolm spanked every part of her fleshy behind.
She was dimly aware of Malcolm’s erection pressing into her
hip, but that was the least of her concerns right now.
After a few minutes of spanking, Sandi said “Don’t forget to try
this!” Sandi handed the hairbrush to Malcolm, who paused to accept
it.
“Oh no no no no,” Jen cried. “Please don’t use that. My butt is
so sore already, isn’t that enough?”
“Now now Jen,” Malcolm said, ”I realize this is your first spanking
ever. But you were very naughty, snooping on our private conversations
like that. You have to pay the price. I think a couple
dozen swats will do the job.
Before Jen had a chance to answer, Malcolm began smacking her
bare bottom with the brush. She was not prepared for the new
sensation. Each swat stung a different part of her bottom, and the
cumulative effect began to overwhelm her.
“Oh, oh,” she cried. “Ooooh, it burns! Owwwwie.” She bucked
and weaved in a fruitless attempt to avoid the spanks. Malcolm’s
firm grip made it impossible to escape; the man was stronger than
he looked. She pedaled her feet uselessly against the cushion, until
she bent her knees double, so that her feet interfered with Malcolm
efforts.
“Dear?” Malcolm said to his wife, who came over, grabbed Jen’s
ankles, and held them down on the sofa. “Now Jen, take your
spanking like a good girl.” He applied a half dozen smacks to her
thighs, which made her squeal. “That was extra. You’ll get that
again if you cause more trouble, miss.”
Jen tried not to struggle as Malcolm paddled her for another
87
minute. He ended with a hard full force swat to each cheek. “Yeoww!”
She cried.
Then it was over, and Jen was allowed to sit up; she sat hunched
on the couch between Malcolm and Sandi, her pants and panties
still around her knees. Sandi handed her a box of tissues; she
wiped her eyes and blew her nose heavily.
“For a first spanking, you took that very well,” Malcolm said.
Sandi added, “Yep. Though he went pretty easy on you; I’ve
gotten used to much worse.”
“That didn’t feel easy to me,” Jen said, sniffling. “I must be black
and blue.”
“I think we need to have a comparison. Come on, ladies, present
those cute bottoms for inspection.”
Sandi jumped up, flipped her skirt up, and bent over with her
hands on her knees. Reluctantly, Jen bent over too. “Jen’s bottom
is nicely red all over,” Malcolm said, “but Sandi’s is even more red,
and she has got some nice solid bruises. I’d say that brush is quite
effective, wouldn’t you dear?”
“Oh, my, yes. I’ll be feeling this one for a while.”
The girls compared each others bottoms with the help of a mirror,
and Jen obligingly oohed and aahed over the state of Sandi’s
butt.
They sat and chatted amiably for a few minutes more, as though
this was an ordinary dinner party. Jen wriggled uncomfortably
in her seat, occasionally rubbing at her bottom, which was now
clothed again.
Finally, it was time to say goodbyes. Malcolm gave her a chaste
hug, and if he was still sporting a hard-on, Jen could not tell. Jen
gave him a peck on the cheek and politely said “Thanks for an . . .
interesting evening.”
“It was great fun, wasn’t it? I hope we’ll see you again soon,”
Malcolm replied, looking Jen in the eye. Jen, not quite able to re-

turn his gaze, mumbled a promise to be back soon.
Sandi walked with her to her car. “Thank you, Jen, for putting
up with all that. It wasn’t much fun, I know, but it was very brave
of you to go through with it.”
“Well, you guys seemed to enjoy yourselves,” Jen replied.
“I wouldn’t say that, exactly. Malcolm loved every second of
it, of course. But it’s a bit of a chore for me.” She looked and Jen.
“You know I am completely love with Malcolm, and I would never
refuse him anything that makes him happy. But getting paddled
on a regular basis gets pretty tedious after a while. It was so nice
to have a partner in suffering tonight. And I know Malcolm was
happy to have a whole brand new bottom to spank.”
Sandi drew closer and whispered in Jen’s ear. “There are compensations,
you know. After he tans my backside, Malcolm gets
quite . . . affectionate. I don’t want to rush you on your way, but,
you know . . . ” She giggled.
“No problem, I absolutely get it,” Jen replied, eager to be on her
way. “See you later, Sandi.”
“Hope to see you back soon, Jen.”
Jen settled gingerly in her car and drove off. Two blocks away,
she parked in a deserted side alley, and stopped the engine. When
the dome light switched off a minute later, she stuck her hand inside
her panties, which were damp with arousal. Rubbing furiously
at her clit, she imagined herself over again over Malcolm’s
lap, pinned tight in his grip, bottom quivering at his blows, as
she struggled impotently to escape her punishment. She ground
against her fingers until she collapsed in a great shuddering wave.
Then again, and again.
Breathless and spent, and she lolled back against the seat, unable
to move. Her first real spanking! It was far more intense and arous-
88
ing than she had ever imagined, even in her wildest fantasies. She
wondered how soon she could wangle another invitation to dinner
with Sandi and Malcolm.