Carlos had been Jennifer’s tutor for almost six months before he first threatened to spank her.
He attended the same school and had been tutoring underclassmen for years. Jennifer lived with her mother, who had been the one to hire him at the beginning of the semester. She’d introduced herself as Ms. Beverly Mayfield, and she’d had him over for tea and to discuss the position. She’d casually informed him that she still spanked her daughter with some regularity, seeming to find it the only thing that kept the impetuous girl straight, just slipping the detail in amid other discussions about the job. The fact that Jennifer was well beyond what most considered age appropriate for such a punishment did not seem to faze her.
Carlos had nodded politely, expressed that he understood, and otherwise tried to put it out of his mind. For the first several weeks, he couldn’t imagine how anyone could find a reason to spank Jennifer. She was polite and worked hard, and she didn’t seem to become disheartened when they had to push through some of the more difficult concepts. She wasn’t late or unprepared, and he genuinely enjoyed their lessons.
There had only been evidence of Ms. Mayfield’s handiwork once. Carlos had come in on a Tuesday to find a watery-eyed Jennifer blowing her nose in the kitchen. He was a few minutes early and he had clearly caught her off guard; her mother had let him in and then gone upstairs. Her eyes had gone wide and she had scurried out, saying something about grabbing her books. She was more put together by the time she returned to the dining room for their lesson, but he couldn’t help noticing her inability to sit still for the two hours they spent together.
They were back in the dining room today, but Carlos wasn’t feeling any sympathy for his pupil right now. This was the third time in a row she’d failed to do the extra work he’d assigned her, so it looked like they were going to spend another day playing catch-up. She was barely paying attention to a word he said, and his patience was wearing thin. He knew her mother had been out of town for work, and he wondered if that might have something to do with the bratty version of Jennifer he was having to deal with.
She made a snarky comment as he was thinking about this, and before he could stop himself he said, “You are seconds away from finding yourself across my knee.”
Jennifer sucked in a breath, her eyebrows shooting skyward. “You can’t… I don’t think you’re allowed to do that.”
“Stop goofing off so we don’t have to find out. Now flip back to the page we were just on and read it through again, please,” he’d said sternly. He maintained eye contact as her mouth opened and hung there in a flabbergasted O. He wondered if she would call his bluff, if he really would put her over his knee. But just before he felt he must make a decision, she looked back down at her book, and turned the page.
He really hoped that would be the end of it, but she forced his hand during their very next lesson. Though she appeared to have done the work this time, it was evident it had been done in haste and was essentially useless for their lesson. She also seemed unable to keep from rolling her eyes at everything he said, and was constantly checking her phone, even when he was speaking. After the third such incident, he squared his jaw and said, “I want your full attention on the text, for the rest of our session, or I mean it. I will spank you.”
A mutinous look seemed to flicker across the girl’s face, but then she tilted her head slightly and said, “Fine.”
Things seemed to improve from that point on, at least for a bit. They were having a harder time getting through the material than he thought they should be, even knowing she hadn’t been putting in extra time between sessions. He’d moved to stand behind her, and was leaning over her shoulder, flipping through the text again, trying to think of another way to explain the subject. He never grew frustrated with those he was teaching when they didn’t understand something, only himself. He needed to figure this out.
He furrowed his brow and shifted his gaze a little; his head was so close to Jennifer’s that he hadn’t actually been looking at her face, but now he did and saw the smirk that resided there. He realized with a jolt that she had been playing him. She was wasting their time on purpose.
“Alright,” he said decisively, standing. He put his hand around the top rung of her chair back and pulled, sliding her with a bump away from the table. She squeaked and wobbled, losing her balance briefly, but he used that to his advantage as he took her bicep and pulled her into a standing position.
“Wait, why, Carlos, wait!” she said as she found herself belly-down across his knee. He’d never spanked anyone before, but it was a familiar enough concept and he had no qualms about it. He rested his large palm on her jean-clad bottom.
“I don’t know what has gotten into you, Jennifer, but I understand this is the most effective way to get it back out.” She wiggled, but he held her easily in place as he began to administer the threatened spanking. She cried out through the first several swats, then quieted, though her feet still kicked some. The rhythmic soft thuds filled the room for several minutes before Carlos decided he wasn’t making the impression he needed to.
“Stand up, please,” he said, guiding her up even as he made the request. Her hands went immediately to her bottom, where they rubbed at the sting as she pouted down at him. Her bottom lip protruded slightly, but he was keenly aware of the defiance still radiating from her. “Get those jeans down, please.”
Jennifer stomped her foot. “Carlos, I thought we were friends,” she whined.
“I thought so, too, but friends don’t treat each other the way you were just treating me. We will be back to buddies when I have spanked all the stubborn out of you. Now get your jeans down,” he repeated.
She stomped her foot again and her pout became more pronounced, but she did as she was told. His words had stung, as he knew they would. He didn’t like to scold her, but she needed to understand that she couldn’t have it both ways. She had been acting like a child and now was being punished like one. It felt very appropriate. He gestured with his head, and slowly she bent back over his lap.
Her jeans now rested mid-thigh, and her bottom was covered by a pair of lavender underwear. He flipped his hand over, resting the cool back against her bottom briefly and feeling a satisfying warmth radiating. He wasn’t sure yet that he was having any effects on her attitude, but he was certainly having some effect on her backside. He raised his palm and began to spank her once again.
The change in her body was immediate. One of her hands grabbed the pant-leg of his own pair of jeans, and her left leg kicked at the air. That was good. He concentrated on covering the entirety of her bottom, noticing that certain spots made her fussing become more pronounced, and so not sparing them for more than a few seconds at a time. Still, he could tell by the sounds she was making that he wasn’t exactly getting through to her. She sounded like an athlete recommitting herself to victory; her shrieks were balanced with grunts and growls.
He tried to remember if Ms. Mayfield had mentioned anything else about spanking her daughter when she’d told him about her punishments. No, nothing he could recall. There was something, though. He continued to plaster the girl’s bottom with sharp swats as he recalled the day he’d seen her crying in the kitchen. Ms. Mayfield had let him in, and he assumed she must have just finished the discipline session. She had been holding something, carrying it back up the stairs with her. What had it been?
Carlos watched his hand rise and fall, noticing that as her underwear rode up and out of his way, the swats rang out more crisply. His other hand was firmly gripping Jennifer’s waist, just above her hip, keeping her easily balanced on his lap.
A hairbrush. She’d been carrying a solid wooden hairbrush.
He stopped spanking, and felt Jennifer’s body relax across his lap. Her death grip on his pant-leg immediately left, her hand hitting the floor as if she was mad that it’d wandered in the first place. Carlos was considering his options, trying to make sure he did the correct thing. The brief pause was enough to let Jennifer nudge him in the right direction. Apparently bored and thinking she had outlasted him, she said in a disinterested voice, “Can we get back to studying now?”
“Go get your mother’s hairbrush, please,” he said, moving his arms out of the way. He felt the muscles of her stomach tense against his thighs.
“Carlos…” she began, her voice much more timid than it had been a few seconds ago, and with no move to get off of his lap.
He remained firm. “I’m sure you know where she keeps it. Go on,” he said, giving her a swat on her right cheek. She made a small whining noise, but stood awkwardly. She paused to look down at him, clearly trying to convey some sort of message, not quite “I’m sorry” but she certainly wanted him to think she was sorry. His expression was unchanging and so she turned with a huff toward the stairs.
She was a bit more somber when she returned, one hand gripping the falling waistband of her still undone jeans, the other holding the implement. She handed it to him, pout back in place, and he accepted it gravely, saying, “Thank you. Back over my knee please.”
“But…” she began, searching for any good reason why he shouldn’t follow through.
He decided not to give her much time to think, instead reaching up to tip her gently across his waiting lap. He swiftly pushed her jeans back down, this time close to her knees, and then he decided to pull her underwear down as well; they were nothing but in his way now. She whimpered, and he knew he had guessed correctly that this was how her mother must spank her. He tapped the wooden hairbrush against his palm, and then against the side of his own thigh. It was a hefty tool, and he winced a bit. Yes, this would certainly be effective.
He patted the flat smooth end on her hot bottom, then brought it up and back down sharply. Her whole body jerked, and again with the second swat. Satisfied that he would make an impact without breaking her, he settled into a new rhythm. Now that it was the hairbrush landing on her bottom, the wiggling became constant and the noises Jennifer made lost their defiant edge.
“Ow, okay, please, I’m sorry,” she said to the floor, but Carlos recalled the red rim to her eyes that day in the kitchen and noted that there were no tears in her voice now. He tightened his grip around her waist and began to spank her a bit harder. Her legs kicked like a swimming frog but he didn’t slow down or let up. The next time she attempted actual words, her voice quivered. “Please, Carlos. I’m sorry I wasn’t being serious.”
He nodded, though she couldn’t see it. Her hand was once again at his leg, this time her fingers wrapped around his ankle. He kept the brush steady and began to speak.
“You haven’t been putting in the effort I expect to see from you, Jennifer. We aren’t going to accomplish anything if you aren’t even trying.”
“Yes sir, I understand!” she cried out, and he was surprised by how appropriate the polite address felt coming from her. He should have done this several lessons ago. A glance down confirmed what her shaky voice had already told him. He saw several tears fall to the floor.
“I hope so,” he said, concentrating on continued precision. He recalled her attitude just before he had decided to spank her, and any thoughts he had of not being thorough left him. Her bottom showed obvious signs of his effort, but he continued to spank her. “I want our time to be enjoyable, but above all we will be productive.
“Yes, sir,” she said again, and he knew that in this moment she would agree to almost anything.
Well, he didn’t need much. Just a few promises.
“You will complete your assignments, from your professors and myself, in a timely manner and with your full effort. And when I’m here, we will work. Not goof off or play tricks.”
“Yes, sir,” she sobbed, feet slowing their kicks as her energy became depleted, but still unable to still them under the onslaught of the brush. He decided they were about finished, and so he delivered a few dozen more swats, harder at first and then softer, before setting the brush aside. He kept her over his lap, slipping her underwear back into place and rubbing her back and bottom as she cried.
Eventually he gave her another tug, and she rose obediently. She stood in front of him, jeans down and one hand rubbing her bottom while the other wiped her face with the sleeve of her shirt. Now that he had finished spanking her, he wasn’t sure what to do. Like so much of today, though, he followed his instincts and opened his arms tentatively.
She was practically a blur as she dove into him, curling up in his lap and whimpering as her bottom took her weight. He adjusted her so her fanny dangled off of his lap, and she cooed when he stroked her hair and shushed her gently.
After several minutes, she shifted a bit and then slid off his lap, giving him one more side hug. “Sorry I was being so bad earlier.” She winced as she tugged up her jeans and buttoned them.
He smiled at her, pleased and amazed at the transformation, and said, “I don’t think we’ll have any more trouble today.”
She shook her head emphatically, moving to the chair next to him instead of across now. “No, sir. Not today.”
He raised an eyebrow, unsure if her comment was a threat or a promise or just the quiet talk of someone with a sore bottom trying to behave. But Jennifer didn’t see the curious look on his face. She was already finding her place in the text book.