The following story depicts non-consensual physical discipline between adult and teenaged participants. Those offended by graphic descriptions of corporal punishment should read no further. This is entirely a work of fantasy: all characters and events represented herein are completely fictional.
ROOMIES
PART ONE: SHANNA'S TALE
“It's about time you were taught a lesson, young lady!”
Joe Bradley was angry.
He was at the end of his proverbial tether with his young flatmate. Ever since she'd moved in two months ago, he'd had nothing but smart remarks, lip and attitude from Shanna Wilson. With her long blond hair and huge, blue-crystal eyes, Shanna considered herself something very special, relying on her sweetly mischievous smile and little-girl pout to get her own way. Like most teenaged girls, Shanna believed she had carte blanche to do exactly what she pleased: after all, she was young, beautiful, and habitually inclined to believe she could get away with just about anything.
Unfortunately, Shanna had met her match in Joe Bradley.
Joe had taken enough of the girl's willful manipulations and errant misbehavior. Never a man to tolerate disrespect from any woman at the best of times, he d decided that his pretty little tenant was ready for one of Joe Bradley’s patented attitude adjustment courses.
“Your reign comes to an end today, Little Princess,” he told her in the most unambiguous of terms.
Shanna listened in trepidation to her roomie's spiel. Standing in the living room with Joe towering over her, she felt an uneasy sense of deje vous, that odd, surreal feeling that she'd experienced all of this before. As indeed she had - Joe's heated tirade reminded her of the hundreds of dressing downs she'd received back in the days when she still lived with her parents. Scoldings which had usually preceded a trip over her father's knee for a good, hard spanking.
Shanna tried to push the thought away.
Joe wasn't her father, and she wasn't living at home now. She was a mature, confident young woman with a steady job and a string of credit cards in her handbag. As long as she payed her rent on time, and did her share of the house work (not that she d been doing much of either lately, truth be told), Joe had no reason to complain. Anyway, she was an adult now, and no one could impose rules on her (so, why did she feel like a six year-old girl who'd been discovered with her hand in the cookie jar five minutes before dinner? A six year-old girl who would soon be sent to her room wailing apologies and rubbing her sore little bottom with both hands?).
Adopting her most grown-up tone, Shanna tried to reason her way around Joe's anger, pointing out that she wasn't a child and he had no right to speak to her like one. However, she was dismayed to hear her voice trembling like a frightened school girl's, despite her assertions of maturity. Joe brushed her objections aside with an ease that was almost contemptuous. Exactly the way her own father used to dismiss her appeals with an impatient wave of his hand. The gesture brought back some rather uncomfortable memories of swift justice over her Daddy's knee.
Lapsing back to the reality of the Bradley household, she felt roughly three feet high beneath Joe's angry glare. Looming above her with his hands planted emphatically on his hips, he pointedly demanded an explanation for her recent bouts of misbehavior. Almost against her will, Shanna found herself apologizing, begging forgiveness for her lack of consideration and making desperate promises of good conduct for the future.
But Joe was singularly unimpressed by Shanna's cries of remorse. It was too late in the day for vows of moderation.
“We're way past the point of no return now, Young Lady,” Joe told her, and began unbuttoning his shirt sleeves, “you're in for one whale of a shock today, Little Miss. I've warned you time after time about keeping this place clean. I'm sick and tired of telling you to pull your share of the workload. Well, if talking's had no effect on you, then I guess there's aways the alternative, isn’t there?”
Shanna stepped back, her deep, liquid-sky eyes widening with bright girlish fear. Knowing the answer before she even opened her mouth, Shanna asked in a querulous, uncertain voice:
“What - what do you mean?”
"I'm going to give you a spanking,” Joe told her evenly, waving his finger before her face, “a good, old-fashioned spanking over my knee - something you should have had a long time ago!”
Shanna gasped in shock, her small, delicate mouth gaping wide: “NOOO!”
It was meant to be a sharp, negative retort, the determined refusal of a self-assured woman of the nineties, but it sounded more like the quailing protest of a spoilt litle girl who knows that she's in enormous trouble. She felt her eyes filling up with hot tears. Her former maturity and adolescent self-confidence had vanished like a mist before the sun.
He was going to spank her!
She could see it happening in the slow-time video of her mind's eye. In a few seconds, he would reach out, take her smooth, pale wrist in his strong right grip, and lead her over to the sofa. Crying and simpering, she'd be turned over his knee and her soft, round tushie revealed as he flipped her skirt up and lowered her underwear ...
“NOOOOO!” she cried again, tears spilling down her cheeks as she attempted to back away. She immediately found herself rooted to the spot. “No Joe, no, please, don’t SPANK me!!” she pleaded.
But Shanna's tears and pleas could not deter Joe's determined stride. Rolling up his sleeves, he stepped towards her, a grim-faced man with a duty to perform (one he found much to his liking, considering recent events), a duty which could not be put off for even a moment longer.
“Yes, a spanking,” Joe told her, lacing a brawny arm around her shoulders and herding her toward the straight-backed chair (not the sofa, as she had imagined), “you're going to have your bottom well and truly smacked, Little Girl. You're going to get everything you deserve, and a little more besides.”
Shanna wailed.
This couldn’t be happening to her!
She was eighteen years old, a high school graduate; completely independent in every sense of the word - and about to go over her roomie’s knee for a long, hard spanking. He'd paddle her until her lush, round bottom-cheeks were throbbing with hot, smarting pain. She was suddenly aware of how small she was, how easily Joe Bradley would make good his threat. She glanced down at his wide, calloused hand, imagining how much it would to hurt when he applied to her tender young bottom.
He's going to SPANK me!!
The thought raced wildly around her mind, like a small, panic-stricken animal seeking escape from a darkened cage. He was going to bend her double and take down her panties and whale her poor little derrier –
and he wasnt even her boyfriend!!
“Noooo!” Shanna keened in her tremulous, wavering voice, “don’t, please don’t Joe. I don’t want to be spanked.”
“Yeah? Well, maybe you should have thought of that before, little girl,” By the time he’d marched her over to the chair, Shanna was weeping loudly, her face gleaming with fresh, salty tears. She held her free hand over her bottom in an unconsciously protective gesture. Joe turned her around to face him.
“All right. Take off this dress,” he commanded, looking her up and down, “strip down to your bra and panties.” Shanna stared at him for one second of numb disbelief, then exploded into a new storm of tears. This was too much: she was going to be punished the way a particularly naughty little girl might be punished by her father (and, in fact, Shanna had been disciplined by her Daddy in precisely this manner on occasion). Joe was going to spank her in her underwear!!
“NOOOOOOOO!!” She wailed, covering her face with her hands, as if she could somehow hide from her quickly approaching retribution. Part of her mind - the mature, rational part - was telling her that he had no right to do this; to subject her to such humiliating treatment. Maybe she had been a little naughty, but she didn’t deserve a spanking - and surely he had no right to make her to undress like this. And yet, paradoxically, she felt utterly powerless to resist.
“Please, Joe,” she sobbed, hating the begging, pleading pitch of her voice, “please let me keep my clothes on-”
“Right now', Joe warned her, “you get that dress off right now, or I’ll spank you so hard you wont sit down for a month!!”
“I won't, it’s not f-fair”, she stammered, but there was no conviction in her refusal, no real strength to her words. She felt compelled to comply. Childlike, she reached back and began unzipping her dress, weeping while she did exactly as she'd been told. Joe waited with folded arms, looking sternly down at Shanna while she slipped the straps of the dress off her shoulders.
“It-it’s not fair,” she sobbed, as if he hadn’t heard her the first time. She couldn’t believe she was doing this - undressing down to her underwear in front of her housemate! Worse still, she knew there was no escaping her punishment. Joe was going to put her over his lap for a very long, very thorough, and very painful spanking. A spanking which she honestly believed she didn't deserve.
She dropped the dress down to her tiny waist, and began to shimmy it over the gentle curves of her hips. Between her fear of being spanked and the embarrassment of her forced striptease, Shanna could do nothing but weep like a frightened little girl. Which was precisely what she’d become in the last ten minutes. The humiliation was virtually indescribable. Like most girls of eighteen, she loved wearing pretty lingerie beneath her daywear - it was like having a delicious secret she could hide from everybody.
Well, now she had to share all of her delicious little secrets with her roomie. Her brassier was a blue-white satin wonderbra, thrusting her full, pert breasts up into a deep, perfectly formed cleavage. One of the bra straps had looped off her left shoulder; it was covered with lacy blue trimmings. Her flesh was ivory smooth and alabaster pale, having only the barest touch of a suntan.
He's going to spank me; he's going to SPANK me, Shanna thought, her mind caught on this endless, looping phrase. She didn’t want to be go over his knee, she didn’t want to strip down to her panties, but she felt she had no absolutely choice in the matter. Joe had made his decision, and she was going to pay her due with a hot bottom.
“No - nooooo,” she whispered through her tears.
Long hair hanging over her face in blond arabesques, Shanna bent over to wriggle out of the dress's slim waistline, gradually exposing her scanty, high-cut briefs to Joes dispassionate gaze. A pair of soft blue g-string panties, decorated with tiny bows and white lace fringes, they co-ordinated perfectly with the wonderbra. Gleaming like liquid satin against Shannas creamy skin, they looked as if they'd been airbrushed onto her body.
Stepping out of the dress, she stood in front of Joe, divested of everything except her bra and panties and the black high heels she'd bought with her first pay-check three months ago. She was crying very hard now; Shanna had never felt so ashamed in her entire life. She felt small and vulnerable and - paradoxically - naked. This was far worse than than if she’d only been required to raise her hemline and bare her bottom. At least then she’d be allowed to keep most of her clothes on.
She straightened up, placing one hand over her cleavage and using the other one to wipe the tears out of her eyes. Her body was as slim and graceful, bearing all the lithe, nubile beauty of youth. She lowered her face and continued sobbing; everything she had was on full display- her undies didn’t seem to hide anything.
Joe looked on, his expression one of vague satisfaction. She'd had this spanking coming for months now - since the day she'd first walked in through the front door, in fact. He planned to teach little Shanna Wilson a rather painful lesson concerning respect for her elders.
“Now - time we had your spanking underway,” Joe informed her, reaching out to grasp her slim, white forearm, “over here now, young lady.”
Joe made himself comfortable on the straightback chair while he guided the whimpering girl over his lap. Even through her underwear, he could see that Shanna had a truly magnificent derriere. Her temptingly plump bottom-cheeks almost begged for a good, hard spanking beneath their tight, lycra restraints.
“No, Joe, no , please don't, I PROMISE I'll behave myself from now on,” Shanna whispered as Joe placed her firmly over his knee, holding her in place with his left hand. Her trim, luscious tushie quivered invitingly, directly beneath his gaze.
“You bet you will, Princess,” Joe replied. He raised his hand - large and flawless and as hard as polished iron - and Shanna's spanking finally began.
Bowed over Joe's knee, Shanna braced for the first impact.
Her bottom-cheeks tensed like guitar strings, clenching back and forth with anticipation. She whimpered loudly, squirming slightly on his lap in hopes of avoiding the full force of the blow. The air was cold against her naked thighs, and she felt utterly unprotected despite the clinging presence of her underpants. She'd never imagined this could happen to her - once she'd left home, she'd believed that her spanking days were all behind her.
How could she have been so wrong?
TO BE CONTINUED