Wicked Wednesday: Cry if I want her to

Jennifer stood there in my office, little tartan skirt lifted at the back, panties down to her mid-thighs, waiting for Maddie to smack her with the ruler. She’d agreed she deserved this encounter with the ruler, and now there was only the agony of anticipation.

I said, “Good girl. You’re right; you do deserve it. Now, today’s going to be a little different from our earlier sessions, Jennifer. The first difference is that you’re going to count, today. You can treat this little ruler-spanking as a practice. After each smack, you’ll count it out loud, and then you’ll say thank you, to Maddie, and to me. Understood?”

Jennifer had her arms round my neck as I held her still. She looked into my eyes. Something in this situation was making her smile. “Yes, sir. I count, and I say thank you, to both of you.”

“Good girl. That’s a good girl who wants to learn.” Jennifer beamed, a very happy girl, about to be spanked. “Now, you make sure you count out loud as I’ve told you.”

“Oh yes, sir.”

“Maddie, not too hard, for these. Just make sure she feels them. Go.”

A second later there was the characteristic SNAP of wood on flesh, and Jennifer jolted in my arms. She pressed against my cock, and felt the involuntary movement I made in response: a pelvic thrust, for Jennifer. She held me tighter, and lowered her head to rest against my chest.

“Oh, sirrrr:” it was almost a purr. Then she remembered and said, “One! Thank you, Maddie! Thank you, sir!” A moment later, after a few seconds’ thought, she said, “May I have another?”

“Maddie, oblige the girl.” Maddie did, and the girl jolted again, in my arms, pressed against my fully erect cock.

“Two! Thank you, Maddie! Thank you, sir! May I have another?”

I had to laugh at Jennifer’s earnestness, in times of physical punishment. She was such a sweet girl. “A little harder, I think, Maddie.”

Maddie said, “I have to agree.” The third smack was possibly twice as loud, and this time Jennifer had to breath a few times, before she could count and thank. She had the sense not to ask for another.

I said, “Good girls. Both of you.” Jennifer, who was nobody’s fool, shot a look at Maddie. Maddie was a good girl too?

“All right, Jennifer. I told you today is going to be a little different. Take your clothes off, and hang them up, please.”

She glanced at Maddie, and looked at me. “Sir? Everything?” She hadn’t been naked in front of me before. 

“Do as you’re told, Jennifer. Maddie will help you, if you need it. But if you take too long about it, Maddie can show you that that ruler isn’t always a toy.”

She blushed. “Um.” She turned to face the wall, and took her blazer off. She unbuttoned her shirt, and took it off, revealing her bra strap, crossing a pale, slender back. She reached for the catch.

“No, Jennifer. Skirt next.”

“Yes, sir.” She unclasped and unbuttoned the skirt, and hung it up. Then she took her shoes and socks off, putting her socks inside the shoes and placing them neatly on the floor under the rack.

Then she turned to face me, in her bra and panties, arms still protecting her modesty. That, of course, would not last.

Jennifer was beautiful, with just a little puppy fat at the tops of her thighs, a very appealing dome to her tummy, and her breasts just a little fuller than I’d expected. She looked every inch a girl who was about to get the slipper. She was very aware of her situation: this was her party, and she’d cry if I wanted her to. 

 

 

Wicked Wednesday: Jennifer learns about Maddie

Note re Wicked Wednesday prompt: If I ran an erotic site, it would feature content a little like… this.

 

That afternoon Maddie had discussed what would happen when Jennifer arrived after school, for the second half of her slipper spanking. I told Maddie that when Jennifer arrived she was to bring the girl in, and remain in the room to provide assistance.

“Like, holding her down while you give her the slipper?”

“Yes. Also, I think it’s time she knew that she’s not the only girl who gets in trouble here. And maybe it’s time we made it clear that we’re not just headmaster and secretary.”

“So, I call you Master in front of her, and you threaten me with the slipper too? Or even give me me some while she’s there?”

“You won’t call me Master in her hearing. It’s too soon for that, I think. And I won’t punish you in front of her, unless you misbehave.”

Maddie smiled. I’d removed an important part of her privileged status. It was possible for her to be punished while Jennifer watched. 

“But I hope you’ll behave yourself, Maddie, so I don’t have to. But you might tell her you get the slipper or the cane too, when you misbehave. I think that’d help her, if she can feel that there’s someone else who knows what she’s going through. And that she can talk about things with you.” 

Things. Did you mean feelings? Master.” Her voice was so innocent.

“Careful, Maddie. But yes, Jennifer’s going through experiences she hasn’t had before, and of course she’ll be confused about her response to it. It’d be nice for her, I think, if she’s got someone to talk to, about her feelings.” 

“Does she get to find out that you fuck me, every time you’ve dealt with her, the moment she’s out the door?” 

I thought. Part of me resisted the idea. But Jennifer’s responses to her own submission were obviously and beautifully sexual. She should know that those rewards were there ahead of her, waiting. When the time was right. I nodded at last. “Yes, she can learn that.” 

“Wise Master.” Maddie kissed my nose, and caught a solid swipe with my hand on her bottom as she skipped out of the room. School would end in about twenty minutes. In about twenty-five minutes Jennifer would be in Maddie’s reception, waiting to be taken through to my office to be punished.

Jennifer was on time. Maddie opened the door and ushered her through into my room. Jennifer stepped inside, aware of Maddie following her. She smiled at me, wanly. She’d have rushed me and kissed me, if Maddie hadn’t been with her. But she wasn’t sure what she could do or say, in front of a third party.

“Hello, Jennifer.”

“Hello, sir.” She was almost sullen. She didn’t want Maddie here. I smiled at her, and beckoned with my finger. She came warily closer, and stood up straight, in front of me.

I laughed. “Oh, don’t be a silly girl. The slipper is your problem for today. Maddie really isn’t.” Jennifer didn’t look at all convinced of that. I smacked her bottom, and kissed her.

She lost her resistance in three stages: first, submitting to be kissed, then, a few seconds later, relaxing and enjoying being kissed, and after about twenty seconds she put her arms round me and kissed me back.   

At last I pushed her back a step. She looked happier and her mischief was back.

“How’s your bottom?” I asked.

“You’re going to see for yourself in a moment, sir!”

“Maddie, could you fetch a ruler from the cupboard, please?”

“Yes, Mr Beecham.” 

“Jennifer, I asked you a question. I meant, how does your bottom feel? Is it still sore?”

“Yes, it is, sir. And it is hard to sit down still. But… it’s not as bad as it was yesterday. Or as it’s going to be after this.”

I held her again, and she nuzzled, then kissed my neck. I said, “Thank you, Maddie. Could you lift Jennifer’s skirt at the back, please? Good, hold it there. And you can take her panties down to her knees, now.” Jennifer shook a little, as her panties slid down and her bottom was bared. She hadn’t been prepared for punishment by anyone but me.

I held Jennifer and looked at her while I spoke. “Now, Maddie, you’ll give Jennifer three smacks on her bottom with the ruler.”

Maddie smiled at me. She was always submissive with me, but I knew she sometimes enjoyed the other role.

She took the ruler from the desk, looked at Jennifer’s paled, shocked face for a moment, and smiled brightly at her. She stood behind Jennifer and drew her arm back. I said, “Just a moment, Maddie.”

I kissed Jennifer again. “Why are you about to get a tiny little spanking?”

“Because you asked me how my bottom was, and I was cheeky, sir.”

“So you deserve it, don’t you?” 

Jennifer frowned. She hadn’t expected or wanted to be spanked by someone else. But at least I was holding her. She looked down. “Yes, sir.”

Wicked Wednesday: The desk warmed by Jennifer’s body

Jennifer, released after the first half of her skippering, looked at her panties, and considered how they’d feel on her glowing red bottom. She’d asked me for permission not to put them back on.

I considered some options, including putting them on her myself, with smacks for any fuss she made. But she’d just come so beautifully, bent over my desk, and as far as I was concerned she could do no wrong, and she must come to no harm. So I said, “I suppose that’s all right, Jennifer. After this skippering, I don’t think you’ll be wanting to flash anyone, not for a few days at least.”

“Oh sir, never again. Believe me.”

She reached for her blazer and put in on, dropping the panties into the left pocket.

We looked at each other. Jennifer broke the moment, running at me and kissing me. I kissed her back, gravely, one hand in her hair. With my other hand I lifted her skirt at the back and rubbed her bottom, her skin hot under my hand. She kissed me again, softly, thoughtfully, while I stroked her. But after a few seconds I gently disengaged her. “You’re a good girl. But you’d best go home, now.”

I pushed the button on my desk phone, and said, “Maddie, make out a taxi chit for Jennifer, and call her a taxi to take her home, right now. And when you’ve done that, come in and bring me my notes on the swimming pool.”

I turned to Jennifer. “Girl, you will wait in Maddie’s office now, until the taxi arrives. Go to the taxi when it arrives. You’ll see it, through the window. Tell the driver to take you straight home, and give him the taxi chit when you leave. That’s it for now. I’ll see you back here after school tomorrow. Why is that?”

“Because you’re going to give me the rest of my skippering, sir.”

“That’s right, Jennifer.” I lifted her skirt again. “Eighteen strokes. So you’d best make sure you behave yourself all day, tomorrow, hadn’t you?”

“Oh, sir. I don’t want any more strokes. Eighteen will be…” She smiled at me. “Enough to be going on with. I’ll be soooo good, all day. Sir.”

“You respond well to discipline, Jennifer. You really do need it, don’t you?”

She touched her bottom, then quickly took her hands away, remembering that she wasn’t allowed to comfort herself. “Yes, sir, it seems I do. Thank you, sir.”

I held the door for her, and she stepped into Maddie’s domain.

In a few minutes Maddie arrived in my office. She had papers with her, though she was only carrying them as a show, for Jennifer’s sake. She dropped them on the chair, and, without a word dropped her skirt and undid her blouse, bending over the warm part of the desk where Jennifer had just lain. 

I condomed up and entered her, taking the higher, tighter orifice, since I couldn’t give her the slippering I felt she needed, or I needed to give her. Jennifer was not to know that Maddie was subject to discipline as well. Not yet.

Maddie took me in silence, aware of Jennifer just a wall away, until she grunted at one thrust that also lurched the desk forward. I reached under her and stroked her pussy. I wanted to take my time, but the sounds Maddie had heard from her office had made her as aroused as I was, and we lasted only a few minutes. We struggled to stay silent while we came.

Later, we heard the taxi honk and Jennifer sing out a “Bye, sir!” We went to the stock room. I pulled out the spare mattress, some blankets and pillows and we lay together fondly, Maddie and I.

Wicked Wednesday: All slippery, and floaty

I poured a generous amount of the lotion onto her heated bottom. It took a lot, her skin seemingly almost drinking it in. But eventually there was enough for a creamy covering over the surface of her bottom, and I began to gently rub and stroke her, finger-tips at first, then increasing the pressure until I could feel her muscles. Jennifer had whimpered a little at the soft touching, but paradoxically made comforted pleasure sounds as the massage got harder and deeper.

Every movement I made tormented my cock, which ached for her. I need only unzip and she would welcome me into her and one, at least, of her virginities would have flown. But though I’m sure she longed for that as much as I did, it was still not the time.

But it was time to give her some relief. My massage had taken my fingertips into the cleft of her buttocks, to be received with soft sighs and murmurs. My fingers pressed on either side of her pussy lips, so very close but not quite touching. I whispered, “I think you could do with some massage here. Don’t you?”

“Oh, please. Sir…” Her voice was far away, as if she was dreaming.

“But you’re going to have to ask me, Jennifer. This has to be your choice.”

“I choose you to… No, I mean, please massage my pussy, sir? Please?”

I counted five seconds, then began to stroke her soft, plump, wet folds. Jennifer moaned, then, a second later wailed as if I’d spanked her again. Her appreciation was loud as I slipped one, then two fingers into her, and pressed the other two fingers against her clitoris.

We moved together, her slippery centre moving rhythmically forwards and back, up and down.

In less than a minute her hands and buttocks clenched, and she made a long, low, melodious moan like a whale calling in the deep to another whale, of surpassing and hypnotic beauty. Her mouth had opened wide, as had her eyes, and she flopped on the desk as she came.

I kept going, fingers working inside and outside her pussy, and she was soon wailing that cry again, body tense, her upper body clear of the table. As she came this second time I smacked her bottom hard, twice, knowing she wouldn’t feel it as pain. The sound intensified, and then with a grunt she collapsed again.  

A long time passed. I slowly withdrew my fingers, and leaned down to blow on and then kiss her poor tortured bottom. Eventually Jennifer opened her eyes. She looked at me as if she was surprised to know who I was. Or where she was. “Oh, that was so lovely.”

I smiled at her. “You’re so lovely, Jennifer.

“I feel so strange. Kind of floaty. Just… weird.”

“Yes. I’ll get Maddie to call you a taxi. I don’t think you should walk home.”

She looked at her clothes. “Can I dress now, sir?”

“Yes.”

Jennifer took her skirt, first, slung it round herself and did up the catches and buttons. Then she looked at the tiny panties. Her bottom was swollen, and for all that she was in a beautiful daze just then, it hurt. “Is it all right if I don’t wear these, sir? I’ll be very careful.”

Wicked Wednesday: Repair work for spanked Jennifers

Jennifer had just taken a dozen smacks with the slipper. It seems like a cosy, domestic implement, but in fact a firm slippering hurts much as the cane or paddle. She had another eighteen strokes to go, and I’d offered her a break, if she wanted to come back and finish her slippering tomorrow. 

It was always a dilemma. One the one hand she felt she couldn’t take any more. On the other, it’d mean she had more of the slipper to look forward to and twenty-four hours to think about it.

At last she said, “Oh sir, I wanted to take it all today. I was trying to be brave.”

“Of course you were brave, Jennifer.”

“But the slipper… it doesn’t care what I try to do. I don’t think I could stand more, sir. Not now. Can I come back tomorrow? For the rest? Please?”

I paused, as though it were a hard decision, though I’d offered her the choice just a few seconds earlier. At last I said, “Yes.”

“Thank you, sir.”

I said, “Can you stand?”

“I think so, sir.” Jennifer slid to her knees on the floor. Her hands hovered near her bottom, but she thought better of touching it. She put her hands on her head, instead. She wanted to be good, and for me to see that.

“Oh my god, sir. I’ll never. Ever. Do that again. Oh my god.”

I stood up, my cock still tenting my trousers. I felt sorry for her, but I also desired her. I imagined the heat of her bottom blaring into me, while she knelt on the carpet and I took her from behind. I held out my hand.

Jennifer saw my erection, but made no comment. She’d seldom known me not to be hard, when she was in my presence; it was a fact of life. She took my hand, and I helped her to rise, shakily, onto her feet. Then I held her.

“Here,” I said. “Just lean on me. You can cry, little one. And you were very brave. The slipper is a much fiercer implement than most people think. It’s ok not to be able to take two dozen in one go. You did well.”

“Thank you, sir.” She leaned in against me. She sniffled, once, but the tears did not resume. “I tried so hard. But it hurt so much. I don’t think I’ll sit down for a week.”

“You’ll be surprised how fast you recover, Jennifer. Which reminds me. I want you to bend over my desk now.”

“Oh sir! You said–“

“Silly girl. This isn’t punishment. This is repair work, for spanked Jennifers. Like yesterday. I’m going to put some lotion on your skin, to reduce the pain, and cool it down and reduce the swelling. So: are you going to bend over so I can cool you down, or do you want a touch of the cane first?”

“Sir!” Jennifer moved at light speed, it seemed. She was over my desk, legs apart in what seemed like no time at all.

I took the lotion from the cupboard. “I should say that this is rather… personal, Jennifer. When I apply the lotion I’m going to have to touch you in a very intimate way. As you recollect. You can have Maddie in to supervise, or I’m sure she’d be delighted to do it for you.” 

“No! Please sir, I’d rather it was you. Only you.” I knew, as she did, that with those words she was giving me a lot more than either of us were saying. Aloud.

“As you wish. Then turn your head, so your cheek rests on the table. Arms out, over your shoulders. Good.” I uncapped the lotion.

Wicked Wednesday: Writhing, kicking and bawling

Jennifer heard me sigh. She knew I was appreciating the view she was giving me, over my lap. And she remembered why she was in that place. She said, “Please sir, please give me the slipper. Hard. Don’t show me any mercy, even if it blisters my bottom.”

Her voice was shaky, high-pitched, on ‘blisters my bottom’. She found that was a scary thought.

In reality I wasn’t going to raise any blisters, not on a first slippering. But a little fear would do her no harm. I said, “Good girl. You asked very nicely. And of course I shall.”

I placed the slipper on the crown of her left buttock, so she knew where the next wave of pain would arrive.

Then I raised it, drawing it up over my shoulder. Jennifer said, “Oooh,” when the slipper was gone. I let her wait while I counted, slowly, to five. Then I swept the slipper down, landing on her bottom with a solid, rubber on skin impact. The sound was louder than a pistol shot. Jennifer screamed, and her body stiffened.

I watched her fight for control, and brought the slipper down again. Both cheeks were showing a slipper-shaped mark, blossoming to a deeper red than the marks left by my hand.

Jennifer writhed and screamed and cried, her arms and legs flailing, while I held her in place and continued.

After the first six I concentrated on the softer skin of her lower bottom, and the volume and urgency of her cries escalated. I gave her the eleventh and twelfth strokes on the backs of her thighs, sending her frantic. She was weeping copiously, and the tears flew in the air as she wildly bobbed and shook her head.

I stopped after the twelfth stroke. “You’re halfway done, Jennifer, girl.” If she heard me she gave no sign, still writhing, kicking and bawling. I said, “Settle down, Jennifer. I’m allowing you this time to recover yourself. But you will be quiet and behave yourself.” Still no difference.

I let my voice become harder. “You lie still and keep quiet right now, Jennifer, or I’ll give you extra!”

That worked magic. She put her legs together and pressed her thighs down, over mine. She pressed her fingers on the carpet and pushed herself back a little, so her bottom was again in perfect position for me.

And she stopped her wailing, though the tears still flowed.

“Good girl,” I said. “Now, you have another dozen with the slipper to go. Plus six penalty strokes. Would you rather have them now, or come back to my office tomorrow to take them then?”

Jennifer froze. For a long time she said nothing. 

Wicked Wednesday: Kiss the slipper

I watched while Jennifer crawled to the cupboard, and opened it. It was a cornucopia, for her, of instruments and devices meant to restrain her, to constrict her and to cause her pain. They told her about her future. Her eyes were wide open. She made no sound.

Her mouth was open too, but she was fascinated rather than frightened. She was a girl who’d admitted she needed discipline and direction, and these items were for just that. She found the slipper and reached for it. She held it in her hand, and looked at me; crawling on hands and knees back to me would be awkward.

I said, as if I was annoyed with her, “Hold it in your mouth, girl! And come here!”

I sat back in the chair where she’d had the first half of her spanking. Jennifer crawled towards me. Her eyes were blank; she was focussed within herself. I think she was lost in this new reality, where strange, painful but sexual things happened, and she could neither predict nor choose what they would be. That was terrible, and it was hot.

I took the slipper from her mouth and caressed her hair with my hand, as though she were a cat, or dog. I said, “Still on your knees, but upright girl. Up!”

Jennifer straightened her back. I brushed hair away from her face with my fingers. “How are you doing? I know your bottom hurts. It’s meant to, I’m afraid, and you deserve it. But are you all right? Emotionally?”

“Sir, that was terrible. Awful.” But her eyes were clear, and she didn’t seem to feel that ‘awful’ was such a bad thing. “I know I deserved it, sir. And I want to clean the slate. I was behaving… very badly. But it huuurt. It still hurts. And I’m afraid of what comes next. The slipper’s going to hurt even more, isn’t it?”

“Yes. It stings like fire, I’m afraid, Jennifer. It can raise blisters on your bottom. Literally. But you don’t get as many strokes.  I think two dozen will finish this. Perhaps more, if you don’t keep still for me.”

“I’ll try, sir. But it’s so hard not to try to get away. You spank very hard, sir. If the slipper’s worse than your hand, I may go out of my mind.”

I reached down to the kneeling girl, and drew her in for a hug. “You’re going to learn, little one, that a sore bottom motivates good behaviour and deters you from bad. No matter how much it hurts, it happens because I care about you, and your well-being.”

She looked down, her hair falling over her face. I brushed it away. “I know you care about me, sir. I can feel that even when it hurts so much I think I can’t bear it.”

“Well, this won’t be the last time I make your bottom sore. And you’ll learn something else, which is that getting a sore bottom, when you deserve one, isn’t the end of the world. Girls have been getting spankings for thousands of years, and yet there are still girls.”

She frowned at that, and her brow cleared when she realised I knew I was talking nonsense. She smiled, and wriggled forwards in my arms to kiss my neck.  “Well, I’m only one girl. Am I going to get thousands of spankings in one year?”

“Well, thousands means plural. Two thousand spankings would mean I have to spank you six times a day, every day.”

“That’s silly, sir!”

“Oh? Silly?” My voice suggested that she might be on dangerous ground.

“Of course. You’d only have to spank me five point four-seven times a day. Five and a half spankings, with rounding up.”

I laughed, and then she joined in, giggling at her own silliness. “All right, Jennifer. It’s time, girl. Kiss the slipper.” I held it to her lips. She kissed the rubber side warily. “Good girl. Now get over my lap, bottom up, head down, and ask me nicely to slipper you hard. Without mercy, even if your bottom blisters.”

The corners of her mouth fell. She remembered where she was, and that she would be crying again, like a baby, all too soon. But she placed herself lithely over my knee. This time she held my shin with both hands to steady herself, and her thighs were a little open, all primness forgotten. Her little pussy pouted at me, damp and plump from her own arousal, in that softest valley between her buttocks and her thighs. I sighed at the beauty of it, and of Jennifer.

Wicked Wednesday: Hands and knees

I’d asked Jennifer if she was working her way back to being a good girl. Jennifer took nearly twenty seconds to respond. Her head shook, but she decided to keep her nose to the corner. “Yes, sir, I hope so.”

I smiled at Maddie, almost awed at Jennifer’s complicity. Maddie grinned. She knew what that had cost Jennifer, and how happy it had made me. She said, “But she’s not quite a good girl yet, is she?”

“No, not quite. She has a little way to go. I’m sure you’ll hear some more crying shortly. But she’ll be fine.” Jennifer made another little sound in her throat. She was shaking now, and about to cry again.

“If you need me to hold her down…”

“Oh, I think Jennifer knows better than to try to get up. Don’t you, Jennifer?”

There was a longer gap. And there were sobs again. At last she said, with phlegm in her voice, “Yes, sir. I will be good. You know that.”

Maddie and I exchanged smiles. Maddie had caught some of my admiration for this girl. She said, “I’ll hunt out that draft. Do I bring it in even if you’re dealing with Jennifer?”

That seemed a powerfully erotic possibility. A confrontation between the two of them while Jennifer was under the intimacy of discipline. But I said, “No, I think we’ll allow Jennifer some privacy while she’s finishing her punishment. I’ll send for you when I’ve finished.”

Another muffled sound from Jennifer. The tears were coursing down her cheeks again. I stood up. “”Jennifer.”

“Sir?”

“Come here. And Maddie, that’s all for now.” But Maddie watched poor scarlet-bottomed, scarlet-faced Jennifer get up and totter towards me. When I’d caught Jennifer in my arms and embraced her she left.

Jennifer, in my arms, looked up at me. “Sir. I try to be a good girl. I know I deserve punishment. And I know I need… direction.” I brushed the tears from her cheeks with my right hand.

I smiled at her. She tried to smile back, but she was a sad, spanked, humiliated girl. “But it’s so much. It’s so new for me. What… What’s next, sir?”

I put my hand on her poor blazing bottom, and let my fingers press low, between her buttocks, nearly – almost – touching her pussy. I held her tight, and kissed her forehead.  She buried her head in the crook of my right arm, and relaxed there. We both wanted more than we could give each other at that moment. Waiting was hard, for both of us, but it was good, too. I kissed her forehead again and she moaned, but it was a far, far happier sound.

“Do you see the cupboard behind my desk?”

“Yes, sir.”

“I want you to go to it now, and open it. You’ll see a lot of things designed for naughty girls like you: canes, paddles, straps and more.”

“Sir?”

“Just a moment.” I made her take a step back, and undid the two bottom buttons of her school blouse. I pulled the tails to the front and tied them, above her hipbones, so they couldn’t come down and interrupt what was to come.

“Now, Jennifer, go to the cupboard. You’ll see it’s full of what are called instruments of discipline.” She nodded, awed. “You’ll get to know most of the things in there, and what they’re for, over the next year or so. But I want you to find the slipper. A man’s slipper. It’s an old one of mine, actually. It’s got a plaid pattern, and a rubber sole. Fetch that, and bring it to me.”

Jennifer turned to the cupboard. I smacked her bottom sharply, and she yelped, putting her hands where I’d smacked. “No, girl, you don’t walk. On your hands and knees, Jennifer.” I smacked her poor sensitive bottom again, getting another yelp. “Go!” 

Wicked Wednesday: Nose to the wall

I knew Jennifer thought her spanking was over. She’d heard me say she’d been a good girl during her punishment, and hadn’t processed that I’d said, so far. She was in for a mild surprise. But I patted her prettily red bottom, and said, ““You can roll off, now, little one. Good precious girl. Kneel between my knees.”

Jennifer moaned. Her body was hard to move, and painful. But she lowered her knees to the carpet, and looked up at me. A more experienced girl would probably have directed her attention to my cock at that moment. It was a tent-peg in my trousers, as blatant in my need as she’d been in hers. But Jennifer paid my cock no attention, neither as sexual prize nor threat. Instead she looked at my face and snuffled again, tears still descending down her cheeks.

“I know what you mean, now, sir. When you said I really won’t do it again, once I’ve been punished for it. I really won’t forget now, sir.”

I smiled down at her, and cupped her face fondly. “You’ve been a good, brave girl, so far.”

This time she heard it. “So far?”

“Yes, little Jennifer. You’re at the halfway point. I want this to be a body memory for you.”

“Oh, sir. My body will certainly remember this!” That was a flash of humour. She’d already recovered a little.

“Yes. But my work isn’t done yet, pretty Jennifer. And I’m afraid nor is your lesson.”

“Oh, sir. I really hurt!”

I handed her a handful of tissues. “Blow your nose now, Jennifer. And dry your eyes.” She took the tissues gratefully and honked into them as decorously as she could. “Good girl!” I said when she finished. I took them from her and tossed them into the bin behind my desk.

She looked up at me, waiting to be told what to do. She’d noticed my cock. She hoped, I think, that my next order might involve her doing something about that. I suppose she’d read about fellatio, and heard other girls talk about it. If that had been my order I believe she’d have obeyed with relief, and I’d have come in her mouth in less than a minute. But it was too early to lead her into direct, unambiguous sexual activity.

I said, “Get up now, little one. Go and stand in the corner, nose right in the corner with you. Hands on head!”

“Sir.” She got to her feet, and walked to the corner. She stayed there, red bottom and thighs arched out a little, breasts and nose pressed to the wall.

I let her stay there for ten minutes, while I worked on a proposal for city funding for the swimming pool. Though it was as hard for me to concentrate as, I’m sure, it was hard for Jennifer to stay in place. After fifteen minutes I pushed a button on the desk phone. A minute later Maddie entered the room. Jennifer, to do her credit, know better than to look round when she heard the door open.

“Can you bring me the earlier draft of the swimming pool proposal? I’d put some notes on it.”

Maddie knew why she was in the room. “Of course.” She made a show of noticing Jennifer. “Oh! She’s been very well spanked. I thought Jennifer was a good girl?”

Jennifer made a low, distressed sound in her throat. But she didn’t move. “Well, she’s earning her way back to good-girl status. Aren’t you, Jennifer?”

 

Wicked Wednesday: Tears before the pause

I put one hand on the small of her back, pressing her down. She sighed. Not unhappily. We were agreed, Jennifer and I, that this must be done. I said, “Can you remember, what was going through your mind, just before you bent over to show off to those boys?”

“I don’t know, sir. I don’t–”

“Well, Jennifer, that moment led you into pain and shame. I want you to remember that.”

“Sir?” But the discussion was over. I brought my hand down, hard, on her bare bottom, across both cheeks, and the pistol shot sound and her first, astonished wail, filled the room simultaneously.

“You will never, Jennifer!”

Then a series of hard spanks, one side then the other, two on her lower buttocks and two on the soft bubble-butt crown of her bottom, then another in the centre, across both cheeks, now bounding, out of her control, while she yowled.

“Make that disgraceful display of yourself again!”

Then I gave her another six, just as hard. Reality for Jennifer was all motion and heat and pain, and her own cries while I lectured her, one or two words for each smack. “You! Are! Not! To Be! A Silly.”

Then I changed the rhythm, speeding up. Her bottom was energetically mobile, and she howled, her feet kicking and her hair flying. I get her another six hard smacks, my palm landing four times across the lower slopes of her bottom, and twice on her thighs. “Little!” I roared.

The next six, delivered lustily and fast were all directed across her upper thighs. “Flasher!”

That was unfair, of course. Jennifer was an innocent, too innocent for her own good. But I wanted her to take more care; innocence mixed with acting out can be a dangerous combination.

I’d considered saying “slut!”, a powerful word for girls, since I wanted her tears to spill. But “slut” was too strong for her, and I didn’t want her internalise it.

‘Flasher’, plus a sore bottom, would do. I resumed her spanking as hard as before, her bottom and thighs blazing red and in wild motion. And there was a change in her reaction. She was bawling like a baby, unrestrained, weeping, her nose running, tears shaken from her eyes to the floor below her. She was sorry, now, and not just because she was being spanked.

She’d forgotten about modesty. Her legs sprawled again, though this time in furious motion. Her pretty pussy presented itself to me, wet and desperately in need of comfort. Or of any attention at all: if I spanked her soft lips she would come as surely as if I stroked her. I tightened my grip on the small of her back, and continued her spanking, hard, loud, in a steady rhythm.

At last, after about sixty spanks, I leaned down, still holding her in place, and spoke more gently, near her ear. “But you’ll learn to behave, won’t you?”

She was still wailing in her pain and her shame. She hiccoughed several times before she could answer me, even though I’d let my hand rest on her blazing hot bottom. “Y-yes, s-s-sir.”

“I think you will too.” I was so hard for her, at that moment. I had enjoyed spanking her sweet little bottom, but it was her submission that called to me. She knew it, of course, and she pressed herself on my cock. There was something comforting for her in its hardness at her proximity, in the energy that had passed between us, and simply in the feel of it. She liked my penis and its response to her, and she’d sometimes moved her body so it was held between her thighs, though the spanking prevented her from carrying out any plans involving the placing of her body: the pain and heat had mostly controlled her movements, not her.   

Her snuffles had subsided, but she had cried, thoroughly and without control or dignity, for several minutes. I smiled down at her body, now resting across my knees. I wanted to pat her bottom, but at that moment no contact of that hot, red skin would act as a comfort.

Instead I said, “You’ve been a good and brave girl, so far.”” She smiled. I don’t think she noted the “so far”.

She’d thought she’d been dealt with and this was over. But this was only a pause.