The Romance of Chastisement

The Romance of Chastisement

Tuesday, December 30, 2014

The Blackmailed Wife (M/F)

Back when I was just a tyke I came across one of those crude pamphlet-sized books that sold in newsstands on 42nd Street back in the day. It was called "Blackmailed Wife" and featured a woman on the cover all dressed in black foundation garments held down across some other woman's knee, also clad in 60's style girdle, stockings, heels, etc. Her arm was raised, hairbrush in hand. It was my first exposure to the standard "blackmail" plot, so common in spanking lit of that era.

It's not so common now, for many reasons, but it has morphed into various types of other non-cons tropes like employment related scenarios as well as the well worn "shoplifter" scene.

Today's story, however, is the classic blackmail MacGuffin. A young wife has committed an indiscretion at a business conference, but she is found out by a colleague. The original author was someone named "Dodge." There must have been a part one to the story because this one picks up in medias res, but what has happened is fairly obvious as you will see....



 Maggie Seaver - Blackmailed Wife 

           
 By Dodge                                           

  As she has agreed, Maggie Seaver meets Dr. Eric Carlson in the lobby of the hotel for dinner. As she has been instructed, she is dressed in an attractive cocktail dress, black stockings and high heeled pumps.   

"Please, relax," he says as they walk to a nearby restaurant. "You look lovely tonight."  The evening is warm and a coat is not necessary. They dine at one of the local restaurants which has a reputation for its outstanding food and atmosphere. The dinner is been preceded by a cocktail and then accompanied by a fine wine. Maggie wants to talk about the previous evening. Eric tells her to not be concerned. It was a moment of passion. It is a thing that happened.  His assurances only slightly calm Maggie's anxiety.

 As she exhales slowly to relax herself, she does not notice the way Eric eyes her out thrust breasts and shapely nylon covered legs tapering into her high heels.  They continue talking. Eric Carlson asks about Maggie's background. She does most of the talking. She describes in some detail her career and life with her husband and family. The liquor is getting to her. The food, the atmosphere and the evening are enjoyed by both of them. They are pleased with each other's company and return to the hotel. Eric has paid for the dinner, much to Maggie's protest. He suggests that they go the hotel lounge for an after dinner drink and further conversation. Maggie considers declining the offer, but feels obligated.  She suddenly remembers her prior evening's mistake.

 "One drink," she says. "And it's my treat! Really, you didn't have to buy my dinner. I have an expense allowance." She immediately feels embarrassed by this last remark. Her cheeks color faintly.  Remembering the events of the prior evening have again made Maggie quite uncomfortable even though she has not admitted it to Eric. As she enters the lounge, she feels a little nervous, almost guilty inside. 

 The hotel lounge is quite dimly lit and not particularly crowded. Maggie had expected to sit at one of the available tables, but Eric leads her to a tall stool on the far side of the bar. A wall is close behind the short row of stools. The effect is to place them in a sort of alcove.  Maggie climbs on the stool with some difficulty due to her short tight skirt which rides high on her thighs exposing a wide expanse of stocking covered thigh. She hooks her high heels on the only rung of the stool. This action forces her knees slightly upward and causes her skirt to drift even higher. The darker top band of one of her stockings is slightly visible. Slightly embarrassed she tugs at her skirt, but with little effect.

  Eric stands next to her. He does not sit on the available stool. His position affords him an unblocked view of Maggie's shapely nylon encased legs. He stands between her and the area where a few customers sit between a number of empty tables, each with a flickering light in the center of it.

  "Keep your hands on the bar," he says matter-of-factly. His words and tone of voice startle her out of her alcohol-induced euphoria, but Maggie does as she is told.
 Eric states in a stern tone of voice, "I want you to listen to me very carefully!"  He places his hand on her nylon covered thigh. She gasps at the boldness of his action, but remains still. He lets it slide up to the top of her stocking. He tucks his finger lightly under the top of her nylon and rubs her thigh. Maggie stiffens. He looks her firmly in the eye. His eyes pierce into hers. She moves her hand.

 "Leave your hands on the bar," he hisses in a low voice. "You don't want to cause a scene."   Maggie does as she is told. She endures his fondling. She cannot help herself. She is suddenly aware of the nearness of her pussy to his hand. He withdraws his hand and lets it glide down her nylon encased thigh all the way to her dainty knee.

  "You were a naughty little lady last night," Eric says.  Suddenly she feels defensive. Her cheeks become hot, flushed red. "Well, I didn't do it on purpose," she starts. Realizing what she is saying, she stops and then continues, "I guess I did fail my responsibility to Jason." Then she adds hastily, "But, I certainly won't let it happen again."

 “I should think not. A married woman in your position.”

 Eric orders another round of brandy. “You deserve to be punished, you know.” He says it nonchalantly, but a thin smile curls his lips.

  She is startled. What does he mean, punished?

 Sensing her sudden panic, he tells her directly, "I am not a vindictive sort, but I believe that one should be accountable so I am going to give you a choice. If you do exactly as I say, you will return home at the end of the week and it will be as if nothing ever happened. If you choose to refuse, you will have to take the consequences. It's funny how rumors begin."

 He looks her in the eyes. Time passes. Maggie swallows. She fidgets on her stool and tugs again at the hem of her skirt which has once again slid up her stocking covered thighs to reveal their shapely upper reaches. She almost gulps her drink. 

“Are you willing to do as I say? Will you agree to go to my room and do exactly as I say?" he says. 

Strangely Maggie's mental answer is yes. She is fearful, yet also strangely attracted to Eric. He seems so domineering. The effect of the liquor she has consumed affects her, too. In the end she has little choice. However, she proceeds cautiously. 

"Do I have a choice? Is it really something that I should do? I don't know if I should be willing to do it." 

Eric smiles at her and replies in a friendlier tone, "Oh, come on, Maggie. Admit it. You know you have a problem. Think of me as someone who is here to help you with your special problem."
"Please," she whispers as tears form at the edges of her eyes.
 "Maggie," he says firmly, "you have a simple choice."

"I see," she replies.   She looks at him once more. His lips silently mouth the word "yes." She take a deep breath, swallows her remaining brandy and says, "Well, all right. I guess maybe it would be OK, but you have to promise never to tell." She lowers her voice and leans toward him. "Especially since you make me feel like I have no choice. What are you going to do to me?" Part of her is fearful, part of her is excited.

  "I am going to discipline you for your errant behavior," he says matter-of-factly.

 Maggie pales. Discipline her? That word again. She shivers. Regaining her composure, she shifts on the stool. She does not try to fix her wandering skirt, but places her hands on the bar and grasps her glass.

"If I go with you, you aren't going to tell anyone about this are you?" 

"Of course not," he replies with a tone of assurance. “It will be our secret.”

"What do you want me to do?"   She shifts on the low backed stool seeking to find a more comfortable position. She crosses one leg over the other. Eric runs his hand up her stocking covered leg from just below her knee to where her stocking top protrudes surreptitiously from under her skirt. Maggie stiffens but does not resist. Momentarily he rests his hand firmly on her thigh and looks deep into her eyes. Maggie drops her head and averts his piercing gaze.  

“I want you to come with me.”

  Eric Carlson takes Maggie’s arm and escorts Maggie Seaver across the hotel lobby and into a waiting elevator. The smartly dressed Maggie attracts the attention of more than a few of the men in the lobby area. The elevator arrives at the requested floor. Maggie is led to Eric's suite.

She enters and he closes the door behind her. The room is a small suite with a seating area separate from the nearby bedroom area.

He sits and motions for her to approach.  "Are you ready to accept your discipline?" he says.

“I…I suppose, yes.” She fidgets. It is awkward standing in front of him like some errant schoolgirl.

  "Very well, Mrs. Seaver," he addresses her. "First you must learn your name. For tonight you will be called Margaret. That is your given name, isn't it? Say your name for me."

 "Margaret," she repeats.

  "Next you must learn how to address me. You will address me as Sir. Say it!" he orders.

 "Sir, I must address you as Sir," she repeats.

 "Next you must attain a proper state of dress when being disciplined as a signal of your understanding of and consent to the need for your discipline. Remove your dress, Margaret!"

   Eric gazes intently at the beautiful young woman who stands before him and fidgets nervously on her high heels. Maggie gasps slightly. She had expected something like this, but at first she does not respond. Then, raising her gaze to meet his, she can sense his impatience from the frown which grows across his face. As she stands motionless under his increasingly stern gaze, she once again turns her face downward to avoid direct eye contact.  Summoning up her resolution to go through with it, she once again lets her eyes meet his. She feels a sense of shame and humiliation at being ordered about like a disobedient child.

At the same time, his intense, commanding look also sends a flash of nervous excitement through her. She feels strangely sexy, sexy in a vulnerable sort of way. She is not in control. He is. It frees her from the moral dilemma of having to choose. She must obey.

 Reaching behind her back she undoes the clasp at the top of her tight fitting dress. She then grasps and lowers the back zipper. Maggie's cheeks redden with embarrassment as she pulls the dress off her shoulders, letting it fall down over her lacy black slip and nylon stockings. Daintily standing on first one of her sleek high heeled pumps and then the other, she steps out of the dress. As if in practiced fashion, she takes the dress and sets it on a nearby chair.  Now lingerie clad, Maggie moves quickly and quietly until she stands opposite him once again.

"We shall begin with a full confession of your misdeeds. I shall expect a reply in the most exacting level of detail. No facts should be left out. Your ability to reply accurately to my questions will influence the severity of the punishment which I shall prescribe. Do you understand?" 

She nods her head in assent. The mention of punishment sends Maggie's mind reeling with apprehension. Sensing a need to be on her best behavior, she adds, "Yes, Sir." 

As he mentally prepares to question her, Eric's own excitement begins to build. After seducing her, he has succeeded in getting the lovely Maggie Seaver to give assent to what he plans. She stands before him dressed in a black nylon slip, black silk stockings and tall high-heeled pumps. The slip has a lacy top which affords some view of the skimpy black brassiere which is confined beneath it. The hem of the slip is wide and also of transparent lacy nylon. It ends just below mid- thigh. Thus a long expanse of Maggie's shapely legs in their nylon clad sleekness is visible. Her high heels have thin tapering heels which are judged to be fully four inches in height. Her carefully combed hair sets off her beautiful facial features.  With make-up just freshly applied Maggie couldn't have looked lovelier, or more vulnerable. Her embarrassment had added a goodly touch of color to her cheeks as well. Only the narrow black straps of her slip and brassiere cover her otherwise bare shoulders. The slip clings tightly to Maggie's body. Her pert breasts, narrow waist and shapely hips are all in clear evidence. 

Over the course of a full ten minutes she confesses fully her misdeeds and the reasons for her marital infidelity. If this had been a trial, it would have been obvious to even the most lenient juror that she is guilty. She begins to realize that she really does deserve to be punished.  Sniffling at times, Maggie admits full fault for her unsatisfactory performance.

 Eric alternately questions her and then lectures her in a stern tone of voice. It was not until she finally speaks words which indicate her capitulation that he shows a brief smile.

  "Sir, you are right," she says, "I have been naughty. I do deserve to be punished." But then she add softly, "Please be lenient with me. I promise to do better. I know I can. I won't let it happen again."  Having gone through the questions and listening to her own responses Maggie realizes that her words ring true. She has been naughty. She has been a poor excuse of a wife. She wants to make it up in some way. She really does need to be disciplined!

 "There are several alternative forms of punishment that I could consider," Eric explains matter-of-factly. "Some are quite severe-- a session in tight bondage, for example. Others would be quite lenient. Say, for example, I could have you stand at attention in the corner for a period of time; perhaps with your slip having been removed.” Then he smiles broadly, he sits forward, his eyes shining with excitement. He is like a cat about to pounce.

“ But for a naughty wife who has done what you’ve done, nothing is quite as effective as a good sound spanking!" 

She blinks. Did she hear right? A spanking?  

 "Isn't that correct, Margaret?" he presses the matter. "What you really need is a good sound spanking, isn't it, Margaret?"  

She can feel her cheeks growing quite warm. The thought makes her pulse race."Well, yes, I guess so," she finally admits between deep breaths, knowing that this is the answer that he is expecting. 

"Have you ever had a real spanking, Margaret?" he asks in a clinically detached tone of voice. "I mean a real spanking. Not just a few slaps over your clothes!"

  "Well, no - no Sir, not really," she admits, swallowing noticeably. She has occasionally played some spanking games with her husband, but Maggie has never had a "real" spanking, not even from her father when she was young. She is apprehensive, hoping that the telephone will ring or something will happen to change the subject.

  "Mmmmmm," he shakes his head severely. "I'll have to change that tonight. I think that a real spanking, one that you know is for real, might go a long way towards correcting your misbehavior."

 Maggie's mind reels and she can't think straight. A spanking wouldn't be as bad as some of the other things that she figures he could dream up. Still, it would be very humiliating to be spanked, really spanked, at her age. But that is what is going to happen.
He moves to a long couch which sits directly next to the comfortable arm chair in which he had been seated. He seats himself on it and pats one thigh in a business-like manner. 

  "Come on, Margaret! Over my lap!"

 She gulps in dismay at the fate that apparently awaits her. "Oh, Eric, I couldn't! I couldn't lie over your lap! I'd feel silly!" she protests, the words spilling out and pouring over one another.  Her desperate pleas and inventive reasons why she shouldn't be spanked continue to tumble out, making Eric glow with anticipation.

 "Come on, Margaret!" he finally says with a sense of impatience in his voice. "Stalling around will only make it worse." Gazing severely at Maggie's trembling, blushing lingerie clad body, he beckons to her with one hand.  

 She takes a deep breath and gathers up her resolve to get it over with.  The shock of the bizarre sentence which had been imposed has short circuited her ability to think clearly. Maggie's head is awhirl and her knees feel as if they might to out from under her at any moment. 

"Come on, Margaret! It’s what you deserve," he tells Maggie with a tone of ultimate finality.

  Feeling almost numb, she stumbles forward. Her face is flushed and her lips are quivering noticeably. He grabs her wrist and upends her face down over his capable lap in the traditional, old-fashioned spanking position.

 "Hold still, Margaret!" he demands, quickly twisting Maggie's right wrist into the small of her back to make it difficult for her to move. "If you don't behave, I'll have no choice but to tie you."

  She feels panicky at the prospect of being tied up. At this point she is sure that he is capable of anything. She protests, but with a touch of submission in her voice. She resolves to hold still. Suddenly aware of the fact that her short black slip has worked up to reveal quite a bit of nylon,  there is nothing that she can do except blush. She suddenly remembers that she is wearing nylon stockings and not pantyhose. Her panties are exposed to his gaze and her cheeks redden even more.

 He pauses for a moment to contemplate what is ahead. There are few things more enjoyable than preparing a fully mature woman for discipline. The fact that this is another man’s wife's initiation into the world of discipline spanking makes it all the more enjoyable. His observant eyes quickly note the plump fullness of Maggie's slip-clad bottom and the shapely curves of her nylon- clad legs. He reaches for the black lacy hem of her slip.

Maggie resigns herself to what she know will happen. She tells herself again that she really does deserve to be punished. She has been unfaithful and she will now get what is coming to her. 

Fully in control, he slowly draws the slip hem upward to reveal more and more silky nylon stocking covering deliciously tapering thighs. Lightly tanned flesh emerges from the tops of Maggie's tautly pulled stockings, which are held up by a lacy black garter belt. The stunningly provocative sight is more than enough to excite any man.  Working with deliberate slowness designed to maximize the pleasure of each revelation, Eric continues pulling up Maggie's black slip to reveal more and more delectable thigh flesh accented by the black garter straps. Finally, he catches his first glimpse of her matching black bikini panties! The tiny, sexy garment displays her exquisitely contoured buttocks to total perfection. Despite his stern manner his heart skips a couple of beats at the breathtaking sight that suddenly confronts him. He quickly flips back Maggie's slip fully to her waist! 

Maggie's face is now a deep scarlet color. She thinks about desperately struggling to reach with her left hand and pull her slip down. With a sinking feeling she realizes that she wouldn't, even if she could. She have never felt so totally undignified and helpless in her life. Momentarily resigning yourself to her fate, she begin to understand what discipline is all about. 

Eric is thoroughly enjoying the exquisite sight of Maggie's voluptuous feminine buttocks adorned by black lace trimmed bikini panties and long, smooth legs enhanced by sheer, taupe nylon stockings held up by a black garter belt. On her feet, she still wears the black high-heeled pumps. Her nylon covered legs are swinging freely in the air, unintentionally making the sight all the more provocative.  Knowing the reaction it will provoke, an anticipatory smile appears on Eric's face as he slowly reaches for the waistband of Maggie's tiny panties.

She remains silent as she feel masculine fingers pressing against her smooth back and expanding the elastic waistband of her panties. She thinks about struggling but she knows that will only make it worse. She has by now totally resigned herself to the punishment which she fully deserves. She is, however, forced to endure the supreme humiliation of having her panties lowered for discipline.

 He peels the wispy garment down just as slowly and deliberately as he can under the circumstances. Maggie's exquisitely shaped buttocks, a shimmering pink-white above her slightly tanned thighs, come into full view as he pulls her panties fully down. 

She is filled with anxiety at the thought of having her bare bottom thoroughly spanked. Thoroughly spanked for real. It is to be a new experience. Distraught, she desperately holds her legs tightly together in a frantic effort to protect as much of her feminine dignity as possible. Her shame and guilt overcome all else. Twisting around and catching a glimpse of her own bare bottom, which suddenly seems so very big, she bursts into hot, salty tears. 

Eric is not the least bit moved by the display of emotion. He will thoroughly enjoy this. The two cheeks of her lovely upturned ass are quivering in a shamefully brazen display as her panties have been pulled down fully below the tops of her nylon stockings. Holding Maggie down firmly with his left hand and forearm, he raises his right hand in the air and takes careful aim.

   "SMACK!" His right hand lands noisily against the velvety smooth flesh of Maggie's upturned bottom. He continues the spanking, landing his hand firmly on first one, and then the other, of her ass cheeks. Her neck is taught with anticipation of the next stinging swat. Her hair falls down around her face. Her shapely, stocking covered legs jerk as if pulled on strings. Her mouth flies wide open and a contorted grimace suddenly appears on her pretty face. The realization that she is being spanked on her bare bottom is mortifying. She sobs in abject shame.  To Maggie, a previously undisciplined woman, it is a timely realization to learn that a bare-bottom spanking can be so effective in making her think twice about her behavior! And the humiliation of having it on her bare bottom makes her feel its full effects.

 Smack! Whack! Splat! Whack!  

Completely disregarding Maggie's sniffling and sobs of regret, Eric applies his hand with strokes that begin above his shoulder and swing in a wide arc. Each loud whack momentarily flattens her fleshy ass cheeks and makes Maggie buck up frantically on his lap as the sharp jolts of pain tear through her buttocks. Her hair is flying about, she twists and kicks every way she can to minimize the pain. Still, she does not try to escape her fate. She knows that she deserves, for the first time in her life, a real spanking. Nevertheless it is stinging something awful. Tears are soon clouding her vision.  She continues sob in anguish. Her bottom is beginning to feel hot and prickly all over, and that makes each spank more painful that the prior one.

Whack! Splat! Smack! Eric’s eyes are glued to Maggie's rapidly reddening buttocks. He repeatedly applies his hand where he thinks that it will be felt the most. As Maggie's buttocks redden, he begins to spank the flesh of her upper thighs where it protrudes above the darker top bands of her nylon stockings. Maggie's shapely, nylon covered legs jerk wildly and afford him an increasingly enticing view of her lush, dark brown pussy hair and the plump, pink lips it its midst. She flops about wildly in his lap. The more she flops the harder he spanks.

 Tears pour down Maggie's cheeks and she is beginning to think that he will never stop. "Please," she sobs. "I can't take any more. I'll do whatever you say! I'll be good! I've learned my lesson!" Her nylon-clad legs flash wildly back and forth in a manner which leaves her feminine charms wantonly displayed. Her burning bottom keeps tightening and flexing in a hopeless effort to reduce the impact of the highly painful blows.

 Even though Maggie is not speaking distinctly, Eric understands her and pauses. It is not his intention to hurt her needlessly, but a real spanking requires time. He knows that if she were not crying for real, the spanking would not have been meaningful to her.  She lays passively across his lap, trying to control her emotions.

"That's only the first half of your punishment," he informs her.

That is a startling revelation. What else? "Please, Sir, I can't take any more. I've had enough. I've learned my lesson," she sniffles.  At this point she knows better than to try and resist. She tries to appeal to what she feels sure he wants to hear. "I know I deserved the spanking. But, please, no more. I can't bear any more." 

 Eric talks to her calmly but firmly. Maggie is suddenly a very contrite young woman. He indicates that while he will not grant amnesty from her remaining punishment, he will grant her some relief and commute her sentence to a form of punishment other than continued spanking, but she has to agree to follow his instructions exactly. He informs Maggie that he will place her further spanking in suspension and that she can serve out the last portion of her discipline by satisfactorily performing several additional acts of obedience in a satisfactory manner.  Willing to agree to most anything to get out of being spanked further, Maggie willingly agrees. Her sobs have subsided so that she can once again speak distinctly.

 "I want you to stand in the corner facing the wall. Do you understand?" he continues. 

Maggie is in no position to decline. "Yes, Sir," says simply.  

He assists her in regaining her feet. Momentarily she nearly loses her balance on her high heels. Retaining a grasp on her upper arm, Eric marches Maggie to the corner of the room and stands her facing the wall. Her face is only inches from the wall. Her panties are at her ankles.

 "Feet together, Margaret!" he commands.   She complies.  "Raise your slip to your waist and hold it there," he instructs.  

 She does not turn to look at him. His instruction needs no explanation. In a sign of submission, Maggie Seaver, a lovely and justly spanked lingerie clad woman, reaches down and grasps the hem of her black lacy slip. She raises it up to her waist where Eric adjusts it to his satisfaction, placing her well spanked and bright red bare bottom on display.

 Maggie keeps her face to the wall as he speaks a final instruction, "You will remain as you are, slip up and facing the wall, until I tell you otherwise." 

 Maggie nods silently in assent.  She makes a truly stimulating sight. Standing with her high heels held together, her shapely legs covered in black nylon stockings are fully visible from her shapely ankles to the tops of her thighs which protrude above the two darker top bands of her nylon stockings. Maggie's panties remain lowered. Her garter belt with its lacy black top and dainty garter straps which hold up her nylons is also completely visible beneath.  Eric seats himself on the sofa and gazes intently at Maggie as she stands in her punishment position in the corner with stocking covered legs and bare bottom fully displayed.

 After a few minutes, his voice suddenly jolts Maggie back to reality. He stands next to her and once again explains the nature of her position and the fact that he is placing her on probation. At his direction she is allowed to pull her panties once again up over her bottom. This done, she is allowed to turn to face into the room.  Maggie is allowed to exit to the bathroom, where she is allowed to repair her make-up and hair. She has been issued a firm set of instructions and informed that she will be expected to follow them fully.  She returns to the sitting room, having repaired her make-up and re-combed her hair.

Eric is alone sipping a drink as if nothing out of the ordinary had happened.  "You really are in need of continuing correction," he says. "I need to keep you properly focused on your responsibilities," he muses without really expecting an answer from her.

Maggie does not reply, but dressed in lingerie, nylon stockings and high heels she stands before him in silence and listens.
 "Be in your room at two P.M. tomorrow afternoon," he says. "I will call you and you will do as I say. Dress appropriately. If you follow my instructions, you will earn your release tomorrow. You may leave now."   

Having little choice in the matter, Maggie does as she is told. What would her husband, Jason, think if he found out? It wouldn’t be a simple spanking, that was for sure.

 "Remember that I expect your complete obedience," he says as she exits the room and closes the door behind her.

She returns to her room, chastened, humiliated and apprehensive.
 

Saturday, December 27, 2014

F/M Spanking Story Sunday -- Miriam's House

Here is a tale that has some potential. It may be part one of a longer saga or it may have never been completed, but it's a good start. This came from Usenet, circa 1999 and was penned by Jason Chattsworth III. As we know, all blue blooded preppie boys are into being spanked by their girlfriends.



    Miriam's House
           
            After classes, Norma and I met for snacks in the Student Union.  Wavy, black
hair framed her beautiful, dark complexion.  She tried for the Naomi Campbell
look, and got it pretty close:  beautiful smile,  perfect teeth, pouting lips,
and perfect body.   Norma was a goddess, and I would do anything for her.  More
to the point, and perhaps more honestly, I would do anything that I hoped would
get me into her bed.

            Over nachos and pop, she told me about an A she had received on her Economics
research paper.   I praised her strong efforts, then showed her a C that I had
received in History.   The night before the test I had been out partying instead
of studying.   "I really need to try harder like you," I said.   "My parents
paid a lot of money to send me here, and every time I choke like this,"  I
smacked the offending C paper,  "I feel like I'm letting them down." 

            "You seem like an intelligent guy, Jason.  I'm sure you could do better."

            Good news and bad news.  I was pleased that she considered me intelligent, but
at the same time, I was embarrassed that she agreed that I wasn't putting forth
my best effort.  Somehow, producing sub-standard work didn't seem like the best
way to impress a woman.

             Looking across her drink at me, Norma seemed to want to say something, but
she was holding back.   "What?"   I finally asked.

            She giggled.  "Am I that transparent, Jason?"

            "No," I said.  "I mean, I know you're shy about telling me something, but I
have no idea what that could be.   I hope that we can tell each other
anything.  For example, I'm dying to go to bed with you."

            She smiled.  "I know, but I'm not ready for that yet..."

            "And I respect that," I said, feeling elation and hope at her use of the
word, YET. "You're worth waiting for."   However, I'd hoped that she was ready
now.   "So what are you too shy to tell me?"  I asked.

            "Okay, then, Jason."   Her complexion darkened in what I had come to realize
was a blush.  I pinken-up when I'm embarrassed, but she became even redder,  just one of the many things I loved about her.  She looked around and lowered her voice to a whisper.  "Have you ever been spanked?"  

            "Spanked?"   Of all the things I had expected Norma to say, that took me by
surprise.   However, after I'd made such a big deal of how we could talk about
anything, I couldn't balk now.   "Well, sure.   My dad used to spank me, but
not since I was 12."

            Norma licked her lips.  "How did he go about it?"

            "Well, he would take me down to the basement.  Then he would have me drop my
jeans, and bend over and grab my ankles.  Then he would give me about 12
stingers with a big, old wooden paddle."

            "Did he make you drop your underpants too?"  she asked.

            She was embarrassing me, but I wanted to appear mature and worldly, something
very important to a Freshman in college, so I tried to maintain a cool
composure.   "No, he never made me do that."

            "Did it hurt?"  asked Norma.

            I sighed.  Where was all this leading?   "It  hurt when I was little, but by
the time I was twelve, it wasn't so bad.  Maybe that's why he stopped.  I guess
he figured he could  make a bigger impression by grounding me, and withholding
allowances."

            "What sort of things did you get spanked for?"

            "Smart mouth sometimes, other times bad grades.  Telling lies.   Oh, and I got
caught smoking once."   Then I decided to toss it back at her.  "What about
you?   Were you ever spanked as a child?"

            "Never,"  Norma said.  "My parents didn't believe in corporal punishment." 

            "Oh,"   I said, disappointed.  I'd hoped we were leading up to some juicy
stories, but apparently not.   "So you've never been spanked."

            "I didn't say that," said Norma with a secret smile.  "I was never spanked as
a child, but I have been spanked as an adult."

            "Wow."  I hadn't expected anything like that.  "How did that come about?"

            "You've met my roommates Miriam and Lydia.  We have a special arrangement
among ourselves.  We spank each other if we don't get good grades, or if we
violate the rules of the house.  Like if we sluff-off scheduled housework or
yard work when it's our turn, things like that."

            "I see."    I didn't really, but I couldn't think of anything else to say.
All I could think about was this beautiful woman bent over taking a spanking
from another beautiful woman.  Miriam and Lydia were both as hot as Norma.  I
felt a tightening in my jeans.  "Do you girls spank over your clothes?"

            Blushing, she said, "No, bare bottoms.  Miriam says it hurts more that way.
Plus she likes to measure the progress of the spanking by how red and marked we
get."

            "I see."    My jeans became even tighter.  "Do you spank with your
hands, or do you use a paddle or something?"

            "Depends.   For a first offense we might just get a hand spanking.  For a
repeated offense, we might get a hand spanking, plus the paddle.  For the
really bad stuff, we get all that, plus the cane."

            Fortunately, my growing bulge was hidden under the table.  "And have you ever
been caned?"   I asked.

            She nodded.   "Miriam caught me smoking in her house.  She doesn't allow that.
 She gave me the works on that occasion.   Hurt like hell.  That damn cane left
marks on my bottom for almost a week.  She said if she ever caught me smoking
again, she would give me a punishment day.  That would be an entire Saturday,
and I would get several spankings from both Miriam and Lydia throughout the
day.  It worked.  Not only don't I smoke in her house anymore, I stopped
smoking altogether."

            "And another offense is bad grades?"  I was beginning to realize where this
was heading, at least part of me hoped that's where it was heading.  Another
part was hoping I was wrong.  

            "Yes, tuition is very expensive.  Sure I work a job after classes, but my
parents are sacrificing for the tuition too.   Maise says that punishments keep
us from slacking off."

            "Does it seem to help?"  I asked.

            She smiled again.  "Well, I just got an A on my Econ paper, didn't I?   I was
getting Cs earlier in the semester, before Miriam implemented our spanking
policies.  And our house is usually pretty clean.   Miriam's rules also."

            "So Miriam makes the rules?"  I guess I had entered stalling mode.  I wasn't
so sure I wanted this conversation to enter the next phase. 

            "Well, it's Miriam's house.  She inherited it from her parents and there's no
mortgage, so she lets us live there for living expenses.   As long as we follow
her rules.  It's a good deal, plus Miriam is a senior and she’s teaching us to be more
responsible."

            It seemed to be working.  The few times I had visited Norma at the house, it
had been immaculate.  And she was making excellent grades.  "Does Miriam ever
get punished?"  

            "Well, Miriam says she's bound by the same rules and penalties, but so far she
hasn't broken any of the rules and she's an honor student, so it hasn't come
up.  I've gotten punished four times.  Lydia's gotten it six times.  She keeps
forgetting to take out the garbage on trash day.  The last time she forgot, she
got the cane."

             Like I said, I had a good guess where this was leading, but I hesitated
before taking the final plunge.  We stared at each other for several seconds
before I finally asked,  "Why are you telling me all this?"

            She took a deep breath before she said, "I've only known you a month, but
your grades hover in the C and B range.  However, you seem like a very
intelligent guy, and I'm sure you could make As if you really applied
yourself."   Suddenly, I knew I was right,  and I felt a tightness in my gut.
"And I'm willing to help you achieve you're full potential," she said.

            "Help me how?"  But of course I already knew what she was going to say. 

            "I think you deserved to be punished for your C paper, especially since you're
capable of so much more."

            There it was, out in the open.  "You want to spank me?"   She didn't say
anything more.  There was no need, she had already said it all.  For a long
time I didn't reply.  I didn't bother to ask if she was serious, because I
could tell from her expression that she had meant every word.  She reached
across the table and took my hand, interweaving her dark fingers with my pale
ones. 

“If you’re game, I am,” she said with a mysterious smile, and gathered her things,
getting ready to leave. “Follow me.”

            Then she stood,  picked up her books and wove among the noisy tables toward
the exit.   It was her firm bottom undulating under her tight skirt that
finally decided me.  Maybe if I let her punish me, it would lead to something
more, a classic case of a male thinking with his genitals.  Grabbing my books,
I  quickly caught up with her.  On the steps outside, she said,  "Both of my
roommates have classes this afternoon, Jason.  We would have privacy."

            "What if they come home early?"   Looking for an excuse,  I hadn't expected
the punishment  to arrive this quickly, especially since I hadn't agreed to it
yet. I guess the very act of following her indicated my assent.   Norma had
just taken it for granted, and I hadn't said anything to disavow the
impression; quite the contrary.  It was already too late to back out without
looking like a weenie.

            "They won't.  Cutting classes is one of the most serious offenses.  We get the
cane the first time for that one.   And they know I'm done for the day, so they
would be afraid I'd catch them."

            "Listen. This spanking thing – is this for real? Does it hurt?"

            "Miriam says that if the punishment isn't painful, then it won't be a
deterrent.  Without a real and serious punishment we won't modify our behavior.
 In other words this won't be fun for you."  She held my hand as we walked
through the park, and we looked like any other enamored couple strolling along
the paved walkway.   Who would have believed that this beautiful woman was
taking me to her house to beat my butt?  Then we were past the fountain and off
campus. “But it will help you to bear down on your studies, so there is a benefit. I like
you and I want you to do as well as me. Then we can be together.” She smiled at me.
“You want that don’t you?”

            What could I say?

            Miriam's house was within easy walking distance of the campus, and we got
there all too quickly.   We strolled up the sidewalk to the two-story brick
house, and stopped under the overhang of her porch. 

            At the door, she kissed me, a lingering, warm kiss that stopped just short of
tongues.  She pulled away and said,  "Okay, Jason, this is your last chance to
change your mind.  Once we go through that door, you must do whatever I tell
you until your punishment is over." She unlocked the door and swung it open.
"I also want you to realize that you will be the only one nude.  This will not
lead to a sexual encounter.  After your punishment, you'll have to leave."
Then she stepped into her house.  My stomach was in knots and I was
apprehensive as hell,  but I followed her inside.

            We put our books on a table in the foyer, then she led me to the parlor.  It
was a small room, but a mirrored wall made the area seem larger.  The softness
and friendliness of her face, hardened to a firm, determined expression.  She
had me take off my shoes and shirt.  "Okay, Jason, stand in the corner while I
get things ready."

            Half-naked, I felt self-conscious, as I stepped to a point where two walls
joined at a right angle.  "Lock your hands behind your head,"  said Norma from
behind me.  What had I gotten myself into?  I wondered, as I complied with her
instructions.  "Now leave your hands like that until I tell you otherwise,"
she said.   I wondered how many times Norma had been in this same position at
Miriam's command.   Had my sweetie's tummy felt as knotted as mine did at that
moment?

            Norma was silent, but I could hear the rustle of her skirt as she moved behind
me;  a chair scrapped across the hardwood floor.   Startled, I felt her hands
on my waist, then they slid around to my front and fumbled with my belt.  "Keep
your hands on your head,"  she whispered, as she unfastened my buckle.  Then
she unsnapped my jeans, and lowered my zipper.  The denim sagged and rolled
away from my hips, then she was tugging, forcing the material down my thighs
until they lodged at my knees.   "Stay like that,"  she said.   Then I could
hear her skirt rustling about the room behind me again, as I stood there with a
bulge in my jockeys.   I heard the chair move again, then her warm hands were
at my hips again, and her fingers slipped under the elastic band of my shorts
and slid them down.  My bare butt felt cool in the air conditioned room, as my
shorts joined my jeans at my knees.   My erection jutted toward the corner, and
in my embarrassment  I was glad I faced away from her. 

            She kept me like that for several minutes, while she bustled about the room.
I had the impression that she wasn't really doing anything other than delaying
the moment:  building up my apprehension of my impending punishment.  And it
was working, to a point.  She was taking this so seriously, I had no doubt that
she intended to spank me as significantly as she could.  However, since this
was my first "offense,"  according to Miriam's rules, I should just get a hand
spanking, and I doubted that Norma could do me much damage.  After all, during
my last spanking Dad hadn't brought me to tears even  with a wooden paddle.
What was this frail, young thing going to do with just her hand?  Then I
remembered that Dad had only given me 12 prescribed swats.  Norma had not
mentioned how many swats she would give me, or a time limit or anything.  I
suddenly realized that I had no idea how long this punishment would last, and
that made me all the more nervous.
   
            "Okay, Jason, it's time,"  said Norma.   "Turn around."   My face was hot with
shame as I turned around and saw that she was sitting in a straight-back chair
that she had moved to the center of the room.  I was very conscious that I had
exposed my erection to her, but she seemed to ignore it, instead staring firmly
into my eyes.  "Why are you going to be punished, Jason?"

            "I --   I got a C on my test."

            "You're capable of much better, aren't you  Jason?"

            "Y - yes,"  I stammered.  "I'm not living up to my full potential."

            Norma gave me a grim smile.   "I intend to help you live up to your potential,
Jason."   Her eyes wavered, then widened a bit as they settled on my penis. 
"You seem to be enjoying this too much,"  she said.  "Let's see what I can do
about that."   Then she smoothed out her skirt.  "Lay across my lap."

            Somehow, I hadn't expected that.  I mean, there she was sitting in a chair so
I guess I should have figured it out.  My dad had always made me bend over and
grab my ankles;  however, Norma obviously had other ideas.  And she was in
charge.

            I stepped to her side and found that I was facing the mirrored wall.  I could
see myself, fully erect, standing next to this beautiful woman.  My face was
beet red, contrasting starkly with her chocolate complexion, and my penis was
just inches from her face.  Behind me there was another mirror, so with the two
mirrors working together, I could see my pale butt.   For a moment I imagined
her taking me into her mouth, but that's not what happened.  Instead, she
grabbed my wrist and tugged me forward.  Awkwardly, I settled across her lap,
my feet on one side, my hands gripping the chair legs on the other side.  My
erection pressed against her firm thigh, but if she noticed she gave no
mention.  In the mirror I saw her look down at my pale bottom then raise her
hand.  "Here we go, Jason."  Her hand smacked on my left cheek with a meaty
pop.  A slight sting registered on my consciousness, and I had time to think,
"not so bad,"  before her hand exploded on my other cheek, with more force this
time.  A heavier sting, but still not too bad.  In the mirror I could see two
pink hand prints glowing on my bottom. 

            Then she spanked me again, several smacks in rapid succession.  She turned up
the heat, but nothing I couldn't handle.  In the mirror I could see her hand
rising and falling;  I could hear the slaps and I could see my reddening cheeks
jiggle with each blow.  I saw her grim facial expression, which scared me but
excited me at the same time. This went on for several minutes;  she didn't
spank all that hard, but she spanked with the precision and steadiness of a
metronome.  Through the stinging, I felt a nice, warm glow, and my erection
became even tauter.

            In the mirror Norma's hand was a flurry of motion as she repeatedly struck my
butt:  left, right, up, down, covering the entire area of my bottom, leaving no
bit of flesh untouched.  I was a deep crimson all over.   It was finally
starting to hurt;   I involuntarily kicked at a particularly hard swat and I
felt my cheeks part.  I hoped I hadn't exposed my hidden orifice to my beauty's
eyes, but if she had seen anything I didn't want her to see, she made no
comment.  She wasn't allowing anything to distract her as she continued to
pound my butt.   Amazingly her force increased, actually pulling gasps from me
as well as a couple of groans.  It was starting to sting.

            "Maybe we're finally starting to get somewhere,"  said Norma, as her hand
continued to bounce from cheek to cheek.  Yes, it was definitely hurting;  I
was kicking more frequently now, but I gripped the chair legs as I flinched
with every blow. A fire was building on my bare bottom, the intensity increasing with each smack.

 Finally, she stopped.  "Stand up,"  she ordered.    I stood
and rubbed my sore bottom.  My smooth flesh was warm to the touch, and in the
mirror a deep crimson covered both cheeks.  She had warmed me up considerably,
and at one point I had actually been hurting. However, now that it was over, I
could only feel a warm glow, that I found to be rather pleasant, as must have
been evident by my erection.  This time Norma made no effort to turn her eyes
away from my arousal.

            "I could feel it against my thigh,"  she said, in a tone that was more
thoughtful than aroused.  "You're obviously enjoying this too much, aren't you,
you naughty boy?"

            There was nothing I could say to that;  my penis said it all.

            "Technically, I should stop now,"  said Norma.  "This was your first offense
for poor grades, and you've graciously accepted  your prescribed  hand
spanking.  However, this thing,"  and she nodded at my cock,  "indicates that
the punishment wasn't severe enough.  You obviously aren't in great discomfort,
and I'm afraid you haven't learned your lesson.  And if that's the case your
grades won't improve and this spanking will have been for nothing.  In fact you
might have enjoyed this so much, that you'll deliberately get another C, just
so you'll get another spanking for the same offense.  In other words I'm afraid
I might have given your poor study habits positive reinforcement."

            I wasn't entirely sure where her line of reasoning was heading, but I was
starting to feel uncomfortable standing with a raging hard-on and freshly
spanked bottom in front of  my fully dressed girlfriend.  However, I was
excited that she felt there would be a next time;  that meant she considered me
to be her ongoing project.  

            "I think you need more punishment today,"  said Norma.  "I haven't made a
strong enough impression with just my hand, so I think the paddle is called
for."   She was looking me straight in the eye, and she seemed to be waiting
for something.  "Don't you agree?"  she finally asked.

            She wanted my permission.  I had endured the prescribed punishment, but she
wanted me to voluntarily accept extra punishment.  Well, the hand spanking
hadn't been so bad:  mildly discomforting, but even more exciting.  How bad
could it be?  So I said,  "Whatever you think is best, Norma." 

            She smiled, then the stern expression dropped over her face again like a hood.
 "Bring me the paddle."  She pointed to a small table next to the door, where I
noticed a mahogany paddle for the first time.  It was difficult walking with my
pants around my knees;  they hobbled my movements like shackles, and somehow I
found that even more humiliating, because it seemed to emphasize my punished
butt.  I didn't like retrieving the paddle for my own punishment.  My face was
hot with humiliation, and my butt was warm from the recent spanking.  I was a
mess.   The paddle was shaped like a fraternity paddle,  and it was heavy in my
hand, much heavier than the paddle Dad had used on me so many years ago.  It
would do a lot of damage and I started trembling with fear.  What had I gotten
myself into? 

            As if reading my mind, Norma said,  "The paddle is intended for repeated and
more significant offenses.  Since this is your first offense and you are
voluntarily accepting extra punishment, I will go easy on you this time."   I
felt a momentary sense of relief that quickly evaporated at her next words.  "I
will only give you 25 swats this time, instead of the 50 swats, Miriam normally
prescribes."

            She was standing next to her chair and reached for the paddle;  reluctantly, I
handed her the instrument of my correction.  Twenty five swats with that
monster seemed like an AWFUL lot.    "Bend over  and hold onto the seat of the
chair,"  Norma ordered.  "In order for you to receive the full effectiveness of
this paddle,  we both need to be standing."

            Bending over, I placed my hands on the chair;  the seat was still warm where
her sexy bottom had rested just moments before.  "Grip the edges,"  she
directed.  "This is going to hurt, and you'll need something to hold onto." 
As I followed her instructions, she knelt behind me and tugged on my pants.
They fell to my ankles, and she had me step out of them.  I was now completely
naked, not that anything significant had been covered before, but somehow this
made it worse.  At least  I didn't feel "shackled"  anymore.  I quickly
realized that wasn't for my benefit. 

            "Spread your legs,"  said Norma. 

            I inched my legs apart, but apparently not enough.  I felt her paddle tapping
my inner thighs, forcing them even further apart.  When Norma was finally
satisfied, I knew my parted cheeks were revealing too much;  my testicles
dangled freely, and the head of my penis dug into my belly.

            "Now we begin,"  said Norma.  Immediately, I heard a loud meaty crack;  for a
moment there was only numbness, which quickly evaporated as  pain rushed in to
fill the void.  I gasped, but held my position.  The next swat caught me lower,
where the cheeks join the thighs.  This time she pulled a moan from me, and I
almost stood up, but the third stroke hammered me back into place.  I actually
yelped.  Then she delivered a quick salvo of five, which brought me up on my
toes.  My entire bottom burned with raw fire.  I knew I couldn't possibly take
any more, but then I realized we weren't even half-way done yet.

            "Looks like we're making progress,"  came Norma's calm voice.  I realized that
my erection had eroded, and my limp penis now dangled between my thighs.
"You're no longer enjoying this, are you?"

            "No, Maam."

            Since she had accomplished her goal and spanked me limp, I hoped she would end
it early, but that was just wishful thinking.   She measured out each bruising
swat, one at time with a noticeable pause between each one, so that I could
experience the full, fiery effect of each blow. 

            At first I merely flinched with each swat, but I was soon yodeling and
twisting and kicking in an excruciating ballet of pain.  Somehow, through it
all I managed to hang onto the chair and maintain a reasonable semblance of the
proper positioning.  Finally, it was over. 

            "Okay, you can stand,"  said Norma.  I stood and rubbed my bottom;  this time
the flesh was no longer smooth, but hard and pebbled all over, and very hot to
the touch.  "So did you enjoy that, Jason?"

            "No, Maam."

            "Are you going to work harder at your scholastic endeavors."

            "Oh yes, Maam.  Definitely."

            "Okay, then you may get dressed."

            I dressed as quickly as possible, and the heavy material of my jeans pressed
painfully against my well-punished butt.  "From now on,"  said Norma, "you must
show me all of your papers.  Anything lower than a B will get you more
punishment.  Next quarter, you won't be allowed to earn anything lower than
As."

            "But what about Economics?"   I almost whined.  "That's my worst subject."

            "Then you'll just have to study harder.  Or I'll paddle harder."  I knew she
meant it, and that was something I wanted to avoid.  By this time she had
escorted me to the front door.  "You must leave now."

            "But couldn't we study together, or, or ... something?" 

            "Sorry, but I have an important matter that demands my immediate attention..
Besides, I know what you mean by 'something,'  and I told you from the
beginning that wasn't going to happen today.  This session was strictly
discipline, nothing else."

            Heavy sigh, as I stepped onto her porch.  At least she let me hug her, and she
gave me a warm kiss.  As we were pressed together, I felt her nipples taut
against my chest, and suddenly I had an inkling of that "important matter" that
demanded her attention. As if sensing my new awareness, she abruptly pulled
away.

            "See you tomorrow,"  she said.  As I walked away, I looked back a couple of
times, hoping that she would change her mind if she saw how "good" I was
behaving.  However, by the time I got to the end of her sidewalk, she had
disappeared into her house, and I had only a closed door to look at.  Maybe
next time, I told myself hopefully.  Maybe next time...