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My Shirt


Sadie sat on the bed, leaning against the headboard and holding a pillow. Her knees were pulled up against her chest and she was watching Caroline grow more annoyed as she flipped through the hangers in her closet a third fruitless time.

“I swear, I just washed it a few days ago and I haven’t worn it yet.” She was in black dress pants and a black bra, and her blazer lay abandoned on the bed as she hunted for the button down blouse she wanted. She glanced over at her girlfriend, who immediately looked down. “Sadie…” she growled, suddenly suspicious.

Sadie peeked up. “Yes?”

”Do you know where the shirt I want is?”

The girl’s eyes ducked out of site again, and she saw her nod into the pillow. Ah-ha. She glanced at the bedside clock. She had plenty of time to dress still, and her girlfriend went to work well after her.

”And where might that be, little girl?”

”MydirtyclotheshampercauseIworeit,” she heard mumbled into the memory foam.

”Talk to me, please, not the pillow.”

Sadie looked up, and said this time, “My hamper. I wore it but I haven’t washed it yet.” She looked at her girlfriend with wide doe-eyes.

Caroline’s eyes narrowed in response. “You were going to let me spend my whole morning looking for a shirt you know isn’t in here?”

”Well… you look so pretty that I kinda didn’t want you to pick another shirt,” came the quiet impish response.

Caroline’s hands moved to her hips as she contemplated her girlfriend. “Why are you so naughty? And what am I going to do about it?”

Sadie just shrugged, not offering any challenge or suggestion, and Caroline couldn’t keep herself from grinning as she answered her own question. The last one, at least. “You need a spanking.”

She pounced on the bed and Sadie squealed as she was dragged over her girlfriend’s knee. She was still in her sleep shirt, which rose in the brief struggle to reveal the soft pink undies that covered her pretty round bottom.

”But Carrie! It looks so cute on me and you were working late and I missed you!” she said, knowing she sounded precious and sweet, and that it wouldn’t deter Caroline a bit.

The older woman adjusted her girlfriend’s body, settling her comfortably across her own thighs, and then rested a hand on her bottom.

”You are in trouble for so many things, little girl,” she said, patting Sadie’s bottom. “Starting with taking my shirt!”

She lifted her hand and then brought her palm down smartly, relishing the first of many swats and responding squeaks. Sadie always wiggled through the beginning of a spanking, no matter how serious or playful, and Caroline was happy to enjoy it. She concentrated on covering her bottom with sharp stingy swats, stopping only when she knew the girl had settled down some and her bottom was a pretty light pink.

”Now,” she said, over the soft content hum Sadie was making. She was not even pretending not to enjoy it. Caroline was going to give her something to wiggle about. “Let’s talk about how long it took you to confess.”

This time she put the strength of her well-muscled arm into the spanking, and Sadie responded immediately with renewed movement and protests. “But you didn’t ask! I answered when you asked!”

Caroline rolled her eyes at this silly defense. “You knew exactly what I was looking for, and you were not the least bit helpful, and now you are going to go to work with a sore bottom, and I hope everyone notices when you can’t sit still.”

”Caroline!” Sadie whined, reaching for her abandoned pillow, wanting to dive back into it as she blushed. Caroline paused to grab the pillow first, tossing it off the bed and well out of reach. “No hiding, young lady.”

”Cruel and unusual!” Sadie said indignantly.

”Oh let’s talk about cruel and unusual,” Caroline said, stopping the spanking again. “When was it that you wore my shirt?”

”Two nights ago,” Sadie responded poutily.

”And yet,” Caroline said, using her left hand to grab a fistful of her girlfriend’s underwear and pulling them up, enjoying the ensuing squeal and spill of round red cheeks, “I did not get a single picture of you. Completely unacceptable.”

She started spanking again, keeping her grip on Sadie’s underwear and concentrating on being true to her word. The girl would feel this well into the morning.

”I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry!” Sadie said breathlessly, flinging a hand back and having it scooped quickly up and pinned to the small of her back. “I’ll send pictures next time. As many as you want!”

”Good girl,” Caroline said with a smile, finishing the surprise morning spanking and then pulling her girlfriend up for a cuddle. She kissed the top of her head and mumbled something more about Sadie being naughty and incorrigible, stopping only when she felt a kiss planted on her own mouth.

Caroline glanced at the clock again and sighed. “Okay, I need to get dressed. And pick another shirt.”

Sadie kissed her cheek sweetly and untangled herself, tossing the abandoned pillow back on the bed as she went over to their full length mirror and looked over her shoulder at her rosy behind and hiked up undies. “Can I fix these?”

Caroline eyed her as she pulled a blouse from the hanger. “Go let the dog back in. And bring me a coffee please. Then, yes.”

Sadie smiled and skipped toward the door. “Yes, ma’am.”

A Lesson from the Tutor


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.

Good and Still



Paul had just turned off the car and then plucked the phone from Edith’s hands.

“Get inside and find a corner.”

Her chest was instantly tight at the command, and she felt the corners of her mouth drop down. Her most immediate impulse was to argue– it almost always was– but a quick scan of his eyes made her think better of it. Next the whine of “why” popped into her mind, but she rejected that as well. She knew exactly why.

They’d been to a movie, a fun one, and though he hadn’t mentioned her fidgeting, he had placed a hand on her thigh to settle her about a quarter through and had given it a squeeze more than once after. Each time she had forced a deep breath and attempted stillness again, but eventually she would find herself rearranging her legs in the comfortable arm chairs or bouncing on the soft seats.

She knew he wasn’t actually upset, and this wasn’t real trouble exactly. But it felt real enough.

She didn’t manage a “yes, sir,” but she did as she was told. Once there, she took several deep breaths, committed herself  to stillness once more, and tried to figure out how she was feeling.

It confused and thrilled her that her favorite scripts never seemed to tire. She was always afraid that they would, that one day her heart wouldn’t race with certain tones and phrases. But here she stood again, nose touching the corner and hands on her head. She decided she was feeling small and sulky and vulnerable.

“Edith, come in here,” Paul called to her after several minutes, just as she was beginning to contemplate allowing her feet to wiggle. Still, she left the corner with reluctance, shuffling toward his voice. Now that she was actually going to be spanked, part of her had very much changed its mind about what she really wanted to happen here. The bath brush on the bed made her bite her lip.

“Undo your jeans and bend over the bed. And let’s talk about how we act during the movies.”

The blush rushing up Edith’s face somehow translated to a scramble of her fingers at the button of her denim. She shoved her jeans down and bent over, feeling indignant now about the whole situation. A bit of stubbornness eroded as she felt him grab the sides of her underwear and slide them swiftly down to bunch at her knees. She could see him in her periphery as he stepped back and his hands moved to his belt buckle, the sound of its removal slick and practiced. She groaned and turned her head, but that put the bath brush directly in sight. There was no good option.

“You are lucky I didn’t pull you out of the theater and spank you in the hallway,” he said as the first lick fell sharply across her bottom.

“Paul!” she yelped, mortified at the thought, “I wasn’t that bad!”

“I don’t think you sat still for more than ten minutes at a time, young lady,” he scolded, the belt falling hard again and again.

“I’m just fidgety!”

“You were disruptive,” he replied as the belt landed across her sit-spots. “And I know you are capable of being still.”

“I’m not!” she wailed, hands covering her face and toes digging into the carpet. Every lick made her flinch and they were coming fast.

“I’m not going to argue with you, Edy. I’m going to incentivize you. Maybe I should make you practice sitting still every day for a bit.”

“Paul!” she gasped as he concentrated on the same spot for a moment. “No thank you! I don’t need that please!”

She was more panicked by that than anything he had done so far; it was clear from her tone. He smiled to himself and laid into her for another minute, increasing the arc of each swing and listening to the leather slap against her skin and to her small pitiful noises.

“Ow, wait Paul,” she said when he stopped with the belt and picked up the wooden implement. “That’s enough though!”

He brought the circular end down with a satisfying pop, and her voice wavered. “Ow ow ow ow!”

Her fingers crept back along the comforter as he spanked her, grabbing handfuls of it near her waist.

“Keep your hands out of the way, Edith,” he said, annoyed but not slowing his pace. “I’m serious.”

“I’m not I’m not I’m not!” she shrieked nonsensically, unable to explain that she knew better than to put her hands in the path of the bath brush. I’m not going to get in your way! They were just… fluttering.

He paused his onslaught, then said, “I want you to count the last twenty. And I do not want you to move.”

“Yessir,” she said quickly, gathering her arms up under her chest and bracing herself. The bath brush landed with a crack seconds later. “One, sir!”

He moved swiftly after that, and she squeaked her way through the swats. He reminded her once to put her leg down, silent but for a tap of the brush against her calf muscle. When he was finished, he pulled her underwear back up but left her jeans down. She stood and dove into his chest the moment she was allowed. Tears pricked at her eyes and she could tell she’d have trouble sitting still later.

That was a vicious cycle for the fidgety if there ever was one. She would try to be good though, she thought as she pressed her cheek against his firm chest and wrapped her arms tightly around his middle. As good and still as she could be.



Sadie stretched and yawned, then curled back up on the couch, head resting in her girlfriend’s lap. Caroline smiled and brushed a lock of hair behind the younger woman’s ear, then said, “One more episode?”

“One more episode,” Sadie grinned, shoulders hunching with glee. They were having the laziest ever Sunday and she was loving every minute of it. The moment was cut short by the sudden appearance of a dog snout and a barrage of puppy kisses. Laurie, their lab, had come in on his spindly legs to say hello.

“Ugh!” she said, turning quickly and burying her face in Caroline’s stomach. “Too many kisses, Laurie!”

Caroline ruffled the girl’s hair slightly and then leaned over her to catch the dog’s collar. “He’s got something in his mouth… hold on… out, Laurie… out… good boy. Good. Huh. It’s a piece of cardboard. I wonder if he got into the recycling.” She leaned back and looked at the brown scrap in her hand as Sadie rolled back over and looked up. Facing her was the address label from a package she had meant to return over a week ago but had been putting off. She felt her eyes getting wide and closed them, rolling back toward the television and grabbing the remote from the table in front of her.

“No he couldn’t have, I took it out this morning. It’s still empty.” She clicked play, and the opening credits began to roll on their current binge watch. They never skipped the intros to shows. She set the remote down, but it was immediately picked back up and the show paused.

“Okay, well he still got into something, and we need to figure out what. Up, please.”

“Car-o-liiiine,” Sadie whined, now just stalling for what was looking inevitable. She was answered with a tug to her ear, and she begrudgingly sat up. Caroline gave her a stern glance, and then both women looked toward the hallway, where they could see other bits of brown and white packaging the dog had dragged out when they weren’t paying attention.

“Where on earth…” Caroline said to herself as she stood, walking toward the debris. She didn’t pause to pick any of it up just yet, wanting instead to find the source of the destruction. There were pieces strewn on the stairs, which she followed all the way into the guest room. Laurie greeted her with a completely unabashed wag of his tail, stretching his long front legs out and looking up at her with an obvious invitation to play. “Not now, mister. This is very naughty. What is all this stuff?”

Downstairs, Sadie sat on the couch with her arms crossed, tears already welling up in her eyes. She hated being caught, and she hated being in trouble, and both were seconds away.

“Sadie Michelle! Come here, please!”

Sadie’s head dropped limply forward and her shoulders sagged, and then she dragged herself off the couch and headed upstairs.

~   ~   ~

“What is all of this stuff, young lady? And why is it all under the bed in here?”

Caroline gestured at half a dozen stacked boxes, some missing strips from the puppy destruction, then moved her hands to her hips as she watched her girlfriend fidget.

“You are trying my patience,” she said when no answer was forthcoming. She saw the dampness beneath Sadie’s eyes, but it only meant one thing to her at this stage– her girlfriend felt guilty about something. “Out with it.”

Laurie whined and cocked his head, looking from one woman to the other. Sadie frowned and bit her lip, then said quietly, “It’s just my Christmas returns.”

More quietly still, she said, “And a few cyber Monday things.”

Caroline pursed her lips. “Yes, I remember you telling me you had taken care of those.”

“Well,” Sadie said, looking at her hands as she popped her knuckles one by one, “I sorta did, because I got them all packaged and addressed and printed out the labels.”

“But they never made it to the post office.”

“There’s still time! Everything has a return date of six weeks or more, so I still have…” Her excitement dipped slightly as she did the quick math. She tried to recover, finishing as earnestly as possible, “Tomorrow. I can run to the post office tomorrow.”

“Go get the paddle,” Caroline said, no hesitation in her voice.

“No, but Carrie–“

“Go on.”

Sadie’s face scrunched up and her bottom lip quivered for a second, and then she stomped her foot and turned around, going to fetch the punishment paddle from its home in their bedroom. In the mean time, Caroline turned to Laurie, who let out a quizzical yap.

“I’m not happy with you either, young man,” she said, but he just gave another sharp bark and wagged his tail. She smiled at him, then patted her leg so he would follow her downstairs, where she let him outside into their small fenced backyard. He would be content to run off some energy for a few minutes, and she had something to take care of.

~   ~   ~

Back upstairs, Sadie was leaning against the wall of the guest bedroom near the dresser, arms crossed, surly, paddle dangling limply from her hand. Caroline walked past her and sat down on the bed, then crooked a finger at the pouting girl. Sadie trudged over to her, not handing her the implement but not fighting when the other woman reached up to take it, setting it on the bed beside her.

“Get those hands up,” Caroline said, and Sadie slowly obeyed, locking her fingers around the back of her head and feeling the hem of her t-shirt slide up closer to her belly button. She closed her eyes as she felt Caroline grip her underwear at the hips and drag them slowly down her bare legs. Sadie never felt modest except in these seconds— it hadn’t even crossed her mind to wear pants since they hadn’t left the house, though Caroline had gotten dressed earlier— and she let out a sigh of relief once she was over Caroline’s lap.

She was squirming again immediately as her girlfriend’s palm made contact with her bottom, and it kept falling with rhythmic certainty. “Owwww, c’mon,” Sadie said pitifully, knowing her bottom must already be pink, even after only a moment. Caroline’s hand was wide and hard and she was taking care to cover every inch of her girlfriend’s bottom.

“This is just a warm up, little girl, and you are lucky you are getting that. I do not appreciate being lied to.”

“Ow, but I didn’t lie! It was just a different interpretation of the goal!”

Caroline increased the force behind her swats and was happy to see a physical response from the girl over her knee. “It was a reinterpretation of a goal we had already set together. You knew exactly what I meant when I asked if this chore had been completed.”

Sadie kicked her feet, hearing the annoyance in her girlfriend’s tone and feeling embarrassed about her poor defense. Her frustrated kicks turned into scrambling when she felt the sharpness of wood land on her already warm bottom. There hadn’t been a warning or anything! Just the sudden shift from palm to paddle. “Carrie!” she screeched.

“I’m not impressed with the choices you have made here, Sadie Michelle. I’m sure you kept telling yourself that you would get it taken care of, but did you put it in your calendar? Did you set any reminders up on your phone?” Caroline paused just long enough to be sure there weren’t any protests coming, that she was correct in her assessment, before continuing her lecture. “And after your first lie, you felt like you couldn’t come tell me so I couldn’t remind you either.”

She was swinging the paddle hard and fast, ignoring the increasingly sad noises coming from the girl over her lap, including the wailed, “I’m sorry!’ that came shortly after she paused her scolding. The dark wood of the paddle flashed against her girlfriend’s red bottom, but she didn’t slow her pace. She hadn’t wanted this interruption of their lazy Sunday either, but she did not take the situation lightly. They had no rules about shopping. They had rules about honesty. They had rules about asking for accountability. They had rules, and breaking them had consequences.

And so, Sadie found herself crying as Caroline continued to spank her, paddling every inch of her bottom and deliberately landing the thin wood across her sit spots. She kicked her underwear off at some point, but didn’t notice they were gone. She couldn’t concentrate on anything except for the bite of the implement across her sore and swollen bottom and the occasional desperate promise that she was so sorry and would do better, she really would.

Eventually the spanking did slow, though even through her sniffles, Sadie knew this meant the lecturing was about to begin again. She swiped a hand under her nose as Caroline said, “I am not happy about your impulse toward reinterpretation or your ability to convince yourself that it was okay so long as you took care of it.”

Swats still landed intermittently as her girlfriend scolded, but it was her words that caused the wail that escaped Sadie now. The woman’s ability to cut through her excuses surprised her every time, and in her current position she was defenseless against it.

“And we do not invest in mistakes in this house. Do you understand me? I promise the spanking I would have given you a week ago wouldn’t hold a candle to the paddling you earned today. But you let one bad choice lead to another until you ended up right here, getting your bottom spanked.”

She snapped the paddle down several times quickly to drive the point home as Sadie kicked her feet and said plaintively, “I understand, Carrie! I do! I’m sorry.”

“You can be sorry in the corner, and I don’t want to see you move an inch until your punishment is over. Understood?”

“Yes, ma’am,” Sadie agreed without hesitation. She screeched her way through a final flurry of swats, and then she was being guided up and shepherded to the corner by the dresser where she had stood so sullenly just minutes before. She felt Caroline press a wad of tissues into her hands, which had been folded obediently behind her, and she offered a watery “thank you” as she wiped her nose and felt Caroline kiss the back of her head.

~   ~   ~

This time when Laurie offered his slobbery kisses, Sadie accepted them gratefully. She heard him bounding up the stairs before she felt his tongue on her calves; Caroline wouldn’t have let him come to her if she was still in trouble. And of course, when she was done being slobbered on, her girlfriend was there with open arms and comforting words. She helped Sadie redress, repackage her things, and clean up the hall; next they made a plan for the post office. Sadie could hardly be pried from Caroline’s side after she had been disciplined, which suited the older woman just fine. Soon they were resettled on the couch, this time with the puppy piled on top of them, ready to finish their show.

School Bully


The rumors are true. I didn’t want to believe them but they have piled up too fast for me to deny. My sister, my baby sister, is a bully.

How did I not know? You have always been such a sweet kid, and even though my weekends home have been less frequent as I prepared to graduate, I’ve always seen you as the same little girl, following me around, wanting to be just like me.

You even followed me to this tiny little college town! I couldn’t believe it when you applied, but nothing has made me happier than the thought of spending our senior and freshman years together. Just like in high school, I got wrapped up in student government, and we have made real changes, and everyone knows me and they don’t hesitate to say hello or tell me about a problem if they think I can help.

Only now, the problem I keep hearing about is you. In fact, I’ve had more conversations about you than with you this semester. I’m busy a lot, but I would make time for you if I could get a hold of you. This is just not what I imagined.

Maybe I shielded you from too many consequences when we were kids. I don’t know. I can’t explain how you became a mean girl, but I guess you did and I definitely need to fix it. I have a legacy to protect here, and I don’t want my bratty kid sister to be the thing people remember about me.

No time like the present. You haven’t been responding to my texts or calls and you weren’t in your dorm when I tried to stop by this morning. But I see you now, across the cafeteria. You have a couple of friends at your table, no one I know well yet. Now that I know to look for it, I can see the looks of apprehension on their faces when they talk to you. You are beautiful and intimidating and I’m sorry I have to do this, but I do. I stand on my seat and cup my hands around my mouth.

“Hello, friends!” I project over the noise of the lunch crowd. The cafeteria is almost always open, but someone makes announcements during every meal, and this time slot is mine. A quirky tradition, but I love it just like everything else here. A respectful almost silence descends, and I swear I see you roll your eyes. My temper spikes a bit, but I keep it in check and my voice cheerful as always.

“Just a few quick things. The library is offering extended hours during finals week. Doors will close at 2am and the coffee shop will be open until midnight. Also the vending machines in Munger Hall have finally been fixed as of this morning. And on a personal note…” I hesitate, just long enough that I am sure everyone is paying attention.

“I’ve heard reports all semester that students are being terrorized by none other than my very own little sister.” My eyes turn to you, and your mouth drops open. “And I’m sorry. It isn’t strictly my job to manage underclassmen, but she is my responsibility and I promise it will be taken care of. Thank you.”

I hop down, ignoring several “ooooos” and the chatter that grows with every step I take in your direction. There is no avoiding me now.

“I need you to come with me,” I say when I reach your table, but you are glaring up with your arms crossed.

“I hate you. I can’t believe you just did that!”

“I’m not going to say it twice.”

I see the same stubborn mask descend on your face that used to indicate a brewing tantrum. At least some things haven’t changed. You stand and throw your napkin on the table, and say louder than necessary, “I am not going anywhere!”

Well I have my own streak of stubborn. I grab the empty end chair from your table and flip it around, then snatch your wrist and yank you forward. Pulling you off balance is easy, in part thanks to your ridiculous boots. Only a freshman would wear heels like this to a regular day of classes. You have so many things to learn.

Today’s lesson comes over my lap, where you have just landed with a shriek. “This could have happened back at my apartment,” I say unsympathetically, “but you have been awfully hard to get a hold of.”

You struggle, but all you accomplish is helping me get your skirt most of the way up, showing your round bottom covered in only some too-thin tights and a pair of cheeky red underwear. I have your wrist again, firmly grasped and pinned just by your hip. It is safe to say I have a hold of you now.

“This isn’t fair! You aren’t in charge of me!”

I smile grimly, resting my hand on your thigh, which is cold beneath the translucent material. It is my turn to roll my eyes. Next I’m going to make you buy pants for the winter.

“You earned a spanking and now you’re going to get it, and that is all there is to it, young lady,” I say firmly. I’m aware of many eyes on us now, but you are my only concern.

“And I’m too old! I’m too old for a spanking and you have to stop!!!”

Time to show you how untrue that is. I lift my palm and bring it down with a resounding smack. I hear someone behind me gasp; maybe they also didn’t really believe this was going to happen.

Again and again my hand finds your bottom. You tug at your wrist and throw your body sideways and kick your feet, but you are no match for me. I keep you in place and spank you thoroughly, pausing after only a minute to fight with your tights.

“Stop! Stop it stop it stop it!” you squeal as I tug them inch by inch down the curve of your backside.

“I am not stopping until I am sure I will never ever hear another report about your behavior. Not the rest of this year or the ones after that, whether I am here to watch you or not,” I lecture, hand landing hard and fast. “I know you are good and you need to start acting like it. No more of this high school crap.”

Your underwear don’t do much to protect you; they aren’t much good for anything besides framing your bouncing cheeks. Your tights are tangled around your knees, but you are still fighting me, banging your free fist against my thigh and yelling at me to stop.

I know you have to be feeling this spanking, but I think you are too full of adrenaline and anger right now. I need you to feel as embarrassed as I have been, listening to all the ways you’ve disappointed me so far. Time for these panties to come down. I grab the band in the middle and pull, revealing a bottom that already looks a little swollen.

“Wait! Wait please!” you squeal, and there is an immediate change in your pitch. Your legs finally still as your modesty is ignored, which gives me the opportunity to shift you over one knee and lock them in place. “This isn’t fair!”

Now as my palm targets your sit-spots, you are starting to sound like my baby sister again. Your screeches sound more like wails, and the fingers of your trapped hand have grasped the leg of my jeans. You are starting to break.

“It’s time to get rid of this attitude,” I say, not slowing down in the least. “This is a good school. Filled with kind people, and bridges you have no business burning. I have gotten complaints from everyone from the janitors and RAs to your classmates and professors.”

“I’m sorry!” you say quickly, and I don’t believe you but it’s a start.

“I’m sorry, too. Sorry to have a spoiled brat of a sister walking around here like she runs the place. But I am not sorry for spanking your bottom, and I will do it again any time I need to. Is that clear?”

“Yes! It’s clear, it’s clear!” you say, pushing against my thigh, struggling now in a different way. You aren’t defiant, but every smack makes you wiggle and kick and whimper.

“I mean it. And I have eyes everywhere. I will know if you put a toe out of line.”

“I understand,” you say, and there is a sob under the last word. Of course, I’ve seen you cry your way out of punishments before, even fallen for it a time or two myself. This will not be one of those times. If anything, I spank you harder.

“And in case that isn’t very obvious by this crowded cafeteria, I don’t care where this has to happen. There is no place safe from a spanking when you’ve earned it.”

“Okay,” you say pitifully. “Okay. Please. I’ll be good.”

“You’re sure?” I ask, again molding my hand to your sit-spots, and you squeal and cry.

“I’ll be good! I’ll be good I’ll be good I’ll be so good, I promise, please,” you babble.

Satisfied that you will certainly do your best, I decide to end your punishment. No more lecturing now, as I put all of my concentration into spanking your sore swollen bottom and ignoring your pitiful sad sounds.

I finally stop and I want to hug you, but we aren’t quite finished even when I pull you up again. There is mascara smudged all around your eyes and your hands immediately tug down your skirt in the front, but it remains bunched up in the back and most of the room has a clear view of your very well spanked bottom as you sniffle and look down at me. I am still sitting with my hands on my knees and a stern expression as I look into your watery eyes, making sure you are fully aware of your audience before I continue.

“Apologize to everyone, for being a bully and a brat and now for disrupting their meal.”

Fresh tears roll down your cheeks and you gulp in a breath and whisper, “I’m sorry.”


“I’m sorry,” you say, loud enough for me this time, and I nod. “Very good. Let’s get you cleaned up. Come here.”

People slowly return to their conversations, and you take a few wobbly steps to stand between my knees. I tug up your underwear, then your tights, listening to you hiss as they rub against your bottom. Finally I fix your skirt, stand, and run my thumbs gently under your eyes before kissing your forehead.

“I think we still have some things to talk about,” I say gently, smiling only a little when your eyes widen. “Just talk, unless you can’t behave yourself.”

“I can behave,” you say in a small voice.

“Good. Let’s go back to your dorm.”

I grab your purse from the floor, put an arm around your waist, and walk us toward the door.

Worth It?


She touches my bruises lightly as I lie belly-down on her bed, pajamas and underwear pulled halfway down my thighs. My head is propped up on my hand, watching her. She’s being tender, but even the soft pads of her fingers hurt. I don’t show it on my face.

“The belt? Just for being on your phone?”

I shrug my shoulders. “He says he makes rules to be followed. And he says he doesn’t like using his belt, so when he does he makes it count.” I let a wince slip through then, caught in the memory of the spanking I’d just gotten. Dad didn’t monitor the content of my devices, but he wanted me off of it after eleven and he got alerts when I hit a certain amount of screen time. I’d argued with him as much as I could over it, told him it wasn’t fair and I was too old for that kind of surveillance, but he said as long as he paid the bills, he made the rules. I couldn’t afford a phone as nice as the one he agreed to get me, so eventually I’d taken the deal. I’d hit my screen time threshold at a very inopportune moment tonight, so he’d gotten pinged that I was over and knew I was on it late. Two strikes for the price of one.

“I guess my mom wouldn’t be thrilled if I was on my phone after lights out. She never checks on me though and I just keep it on silent. You shouldn’t have snuck over here,” she says, frowning at the end, but I just flash her a reassuring grin.

“Well I couldn’t text you once he took the phone, and I had to say goodnight to my girl.”

She smiles, blushes. She’s right, of course, but easy to distract at least. Her expression becomes concerned, a bit bashful, and she asks, “Was it bad?”

“Nah, it wasn’t too bad,” I lie. He’d walked in without knocking, and there I was, lounging on my bed with a stupid grin on my face under the glow of my fancy new phone. I felt like I’d been punched in the gut when I saw him, hands going to his hips and mouth taut.

I wouldn’t figure out how he’d known I was up until later, and he didn’t pause to explain. Once he’d seen me, there was no defending myself anyway. He’d begun to undo his belt while I was still scrambling up. “Dad, wait!” I’d said uselessly.

“You know the rules,” he had replied unsympathetically. “And you know what happens when they get broken in this house.”

My mouth had opened, then slowly shut again. He was right about that one. I was suddenly resigned. “Yes, sir,” I’d replied miserably, putting my phone down on the nightstand, knowing he would take it before he left.

“Will you tell me about it?” she asks hesitantly, concentrating on her survey of the damage done instead of looking at my face, and now it’s my turn to blush a little.

“Not much to tell, really.”

“All right,” she says with a hint of a pout, which makes the corner of my mouth tug up. Everything she says and does feels precious to me.

“Why are you so curious? No one ever spanked you with a belt before?” I tease her gently.

“No!” she answers emphatically, eyes widening. “Of course not.”

“Of course not,” I repeat, grinning at her again as if we don’t both know her to be a world-class mischief-maker. “Well, I have encountered the belt more times than I would like to recall, and never once has it been fun.”

She bites her lip, but stays quiet, listening.

“I had to take these down,” I tell her, gesturing at my currently lowered clothing and bare bottom, “and bend over the bed, and behind me I could hear him folding it in half, and it’s almost worse than the actual spanking, hearing that and knowing what’s coming.”

“Only almost?” she asks.

“Only almost,” I confirm. “He lit me up like a Christmas tree tonight. It hurts and it’s loud and I have to stay in place.”

She looks at me so tenderly that I forget what I was saying for a second, and then there is a voice in the hallway.

“Honey, who are you talking to?”

She claps a hand to her mouth and her eyes go wide with panic. Her mom. We thought she was asleep. I feel a little panic too but I make myself squeeze her hand reassuringly before I slip off and under the bed. I barely have time to pull my pants back up before she knocks, then enters without pause.


“I heard you talking,” her mother says, and just beneath the duster I can see her slippered feet. She walks slowly across the room, opens and closes the closet door, then makes her way toward the bed. We’re so screwed.

“Mom! I just… I was… on my phone. I’m sorry.”

“I see,” her mother replies, stopping in her tracks, and I breathe a sigh of relief. It is short-lived, as her tone shifts from vague suspicion to decidedly stern. “I’m going to get the hairbrush. You get yourself ready.”

“Mom, please! It was just for a minute and I—”

“You know how I feel about you being on that thing late at night, and I told you what would happen if I caught you at it.”

“But Mom I just—”

“Get ready, please.”

“Please, Mom… I don’t want… can’t you just…” she sounds so lost and I want so badly to crawl out from under the bed, but it would only make it worse for both of us.

“Right now,” her mother says firmly, and I watch her feet leave the room. I hear my girlfriend groan pitifully, and now it is her feet I see slip from the bed to the floor right in front of me, bare except for the polish on her toes. Seconds later, a pair of white underwear descends, pooling around her ankles before she steps out of them, and then her mother is back.

“We had an agreement, young lady, and as long as you live under this roof, there will be consequences for your bad behavior. That phone is a privilege and it comes with strings attached.”

She sits on the bed as she lectures, and it sinks just the tiniest bit above me. My face is inches from the back of her ankles, but I am too afraid to move away. There is another small moan of distress, and then my girlfriend’s feet disappear, leaving her underwear crumpled in front of me.

I wish I could disappear, but instead I am trapped under this bed, my own bottom still throbbing with my heavy heartbeat. There is one more small, “Please, Mom,” and then the spanking begins.

I thought most of her panic was about me being here to listen, but I realize pretty quickly that there is no circumstance where someone would willingly take this spanking. As best I can tell, her mom is only using her hand, but the swats are forceful, and even muffled by the mattress above, I can hear my girlfriend’s gasps and whimpers.

And it goes on forever! I keep losing track of the number, but I know it’s a lot. Her mom only pauses once, and even though I can’t see it, I know it is to pick up the hairbrush. She has only landed a few before the whimpers turn into apologies.

“I’m sorry! Momma, please! It won’t happen again. I swear, I’m so sorry! Please!”

The only thing I hear her mother say is, “Keep your feet down.”

She is equally thorough with the hairbrush, and by the time she winds down, I am sure we will have matching bruises. My poor girl is sobbing at the end, when she is allowed up and I see her standing on tiptoe and hear her soft “ow ow ow” as she hops around the room.

Her mother gives her a moment before she herself stands and turns. I have to shove my hand in my mouth to keep from making a sound; I’m somehow sure she is about to bend down and look under the bed. Instead, she must have pulled back the covers because the next thing she says is, “Time for bed, young lady.”

I hear a shuddery intake of breath, and then the mattress sinks slightly again as she climbs in. Her mother says goodnight, turning off the light as she leaves and closing the door behind her.

I lie in the dark listening to the soft crying above me for a full count of sixty before I slide out from under the bed and crawl under the blanket with her. She doesn’t turn, but scoots back against me and grabs for my arm, wrapping it around her desperately. I think we’re both too nervous to even whisper, so instead we just lie together, her bare bottom radiating heat that leeches through the thin cotton of my pajama pants. I lean up to kiss her temple, and her face is just as warm and I feel her tear tracks on my lips.

I put my head on the pillow and nuzzle my face in her hair, and we take a deep unplanned breath together. I wonder if she is suddenly weary, as I am.

I should really get up before I fall asleep; we’re both phoneless now, so I can’t set my usual 3am alarm. But it’s so comfortable, wrapped up together like this, and it has been such a long night. I decide to lie still for just a few more minutes.