I’d told Jennifer, bent naked over my desk, to brace herself. This is always credible advice when it comes from a man with a slipper in his hand. Jennifer shivered a little, thinking I’d meant I was about to start her slippering. 

But I put my palm and finger under her pussy, and ran my thumb down between her soft, inviting folds. She jerked in surprise, and then relaxed. I put my thumb into her, feeling the spongy skin as I pressed down, moving my thumb slowly into and a little way out of her, while pressing my palm against her clitoris.

Jennifer sighed with pleasure, and then her body started to echo the movements of my thumb and palm. Her breath quickened. I admired the rise and fall of her bottom, which blushed a bright crimson from the six slipper smacks I’d already given her. But at almost the last second, when she was on the edge of orgasm, I pulled out, smacked that bottom, and said, “But don’t you dare come, girl!”

“Ahhh, sir!” She made a howl of protest, and in another mood I’d have given her extra strokes for that. 

But I ignored her. I drew her knee a little further towards me, and applied the first stroke to her inner thigh, about eight inches from her pussy. Jennifer shrieked, “Owwwwww!”

Since she could no longer kick, her body rocked from side to side on the table. I brought the slipper down again, a little harder and three inches closer to her pussy. Jennifer howled and writhed, though it was less dramatic than her response to her first six. She was getting tired, and she was transmuting at least part of the pain into pleasure. I delivered the third stroke on the plumpest part of her thigh. She yowled and then sobbed, crying like a baby.

As I crossed to her right side, Maddie said, “We have tears, Master.” I couldn’t see her face but I knew that was true, from the quality of her sobbing. I took Jennifer’s right knee, and held it firmly while I delivered the same sequence of three strokes to her right inner thigh.

Maddie still sobbed and wailed, but her body movements were calmer. Her bottom rose and fell as if her pussy was riding the air, riding something that should have been there but wasn’t. Despite her pain I knew that if I touched her she would come within about thirty seconds.

More importantly, I was now certain that she’d be able to come instantly, without my touching her, if I commanded her to.

I rested the slipper on the small of her back. “If you beg for permission to come, Jennifer, I’ll give you two dozen extra strokes. Is that understood?”

Her voice was very quiet. “Yes, sir.”

“You’re learning discipline and obedience. From now on, you come only when I give you permission.”

“Yes, sir.”

“That includes at home, in your own bed.”

“Sir! I mean, yes, sir.” 

I smiled, not that she could see me. “I know you’re a good girl, Jennifer. This is part of showing me how good you can be.”

She sighed, resigned. I’m not sure if she understood, yet, quite how much power she had just ceded.

I didn’t admit any warmth or affection in my voice. Jennifer was to feel punished, before she was allowed other feelings.

I said, “Jennifer, that’s your first six for today. It’s punishment and a lesson. It’s very unwise to flash your pussy at the boys. It leads to trouble among them, and to trouble for you. I’m sure you knew that.”

There was a snuffle. “Yes, sir. I did know it was wrong.”

“So you deserve to be punished, and you need the lesson. This is to make sure your body warns you against it, if you ever even think of doing something that silly again. Is that clear?”

Jennifer coughed, twice, before trying to speak, and her voice was still small, shamed and shaky. “Yes, sir. That is so clear. God, I’ll never…” She shook her head.

That was good enough. I said, “And you’re being a good, brave girl. I’m proud of you.”

Jennifer sobbed again, relieved, then quickly controlled herself. “Thank you, sir.”

“You’ve got another six, Jennifer, for your indecent behaviour. Then you have the penalty six for questioning an order. So you’re a third of the way through. Head down, now girl. And keep your legs parted. You’re about to find out why.”

Jennifer froze for a second. She wanted to ask what I meant. But she decided better, and lowered her head again. I said, “Maddie, is she crying yet?”

“No, Master. Her eyes are wet, but she hasn’t spilled tears yet.”

I smiled, and patted Jennifer fondly on the bottom. She moaned, not with pain, and raised her hips a little further, seeking my touch. I picked up the slipper and moved to her left side.

I took her knee and pulled it a little further to the left, so she was utterly exposed. Her pussy was swollen, lips soft, and damp.

“Brace yourself, girl.”

Jennifer raised her head and looked at Maddie. I’d just told her that Maddie envied her, for the paddling she was getting. And, we all knew, though none of us would say it, Maddie envied her because she was the focus of desire in that room. I wanted Jennifer, powerfully. Maddie wanted Jennifer too, and to be her. 

At last, finding my words confirmed in Maddie’s age, Jennifer dropped her head to the table again. She tensed her body, then relaxed, getting herself back under control. 

But I did not want Jennifer in control of herself, even partly. I resolved that I would hear her cry out by the third stroke. I landed the second smack of the slipper hard, and on the same spot as the first. Her body jerked under the impact, and her feet left the floor, though she kept her legs spread.

Her head raised, baring her throat to Maddie, and the hiss came back, louder, and ended in a soft moan of pain.

She was fighting hard, and she was brave. Braver than she’d been under the slipper yesterday. But I was determined she’d lose that struggle, and spectacularly.

The third hard stroke on that same soft area of skin was her undoing. Her legs rose till they were almost level with the table, though she still kept them spread, and her breath expelled in a harsh, loud scream.

With the floodgates open, I stepped back a little and smacked the slipper down on the crown of her buttocks. It must have hurt less than the third stroke, but her legs kicked in the air and she screamed again, her pitch rising, perhaps a semi-tone.

Her brief resistance was gone: she was now under the slipper’s command and direction.

I landed the fifth and sixth strokes on the same spot, about thirty seconds apart, and her legs kicked and cycled in the air, ungainly as a frog’s, and the wail with which she greeted the fifth stroke had not ceased by the time I landed the sixth.

Her cries continued after I’d stopped skippering her, a very sorry girl. II touched her slipper, very lightly, against her bottom, as a warning. “Quiet, Jennifer!” Jennifer continued wailing. “Or I’ll give you another six extra strokes!”

Miraculously, she suddenly found self-control. There was just one last sob, and then silence, except for Jennifer’s hard breathing. Maddie caught my eye again, and smiled. “You’re learning that discipline really works, Jennifer. I bet Master is pleased with you.”

Jennifer shook her head. She was focussed on the raging heat in her bright red bottom, not on speaking. But Maddie reached for Jennifer’s jaw and lifted her face, so the girl and the woman stared at each other, eye to eye.

Maddie smiled. “You always find extra reserves when you’re being disciplined, Jennifer. I know that well enough by now. You’ll endure anything, and you’ll do anything if you think it will please him. Discipline works for you too, doesn’t it?”