Although it seems like yesterday, these events took place some years ago when I was in my early thirties. I lived a few years in a rental apartment building in an outer borough, perfect for commuting to work but also letting me leave the real hustle at the end of the day. It was a nice building, but not fancy, and we residents seemed to take on that personality – folks were friendly and didn’t put on airs. I thought nothing of walking around in my sweats and a tee shirt when grabbing the mail or running errands.
I knew a good number of my neighbors, and one of my favorites was a young woman named Ashley who lived one floor down, just beneath me. I liked Ashley because she was smart and made me laugh. She was in school locally, and it was clear that her college education and experiences were building her confidence. She also played drums in a few local bands and had the style to go with it. She was always good for a wise remark when I’d run into her, especially when I unexpectedly would come upon her smoking up in the stairwell or just in the shadows by one of the side or back entrances to the building. “Caught again, young lady,” I’d say with a smile, and she’d stick out her tongue, or pout and take another puff for my benefit, with a hint of a grin.
On a few occasions when the mailman mistook the floors, Ashley would bring my mail up to me, or I’d bring hers down to her, and after awhile those quick conversations became small visits. I didn’t feel comfortable drinking with her, despite knowing that she was no stranger to alcohol, but if she was going to be up studying, I’d invite her in for a quick espresso or share some food. When I’d come down to her place, she’d often let me hear some of her latest recordings – she was really good. She also always offered to step outside and share a smoke with me; I always declined, just for propriety’s sake. (It wasn’t as if I didn’t partake myself on occasion.) She was partial to a pen, and would teasingly dangle it at me, and with a put upon tone I’d jokingly remind her of school the next day.
About a year after I met Ashley, I noticed that when I’d run into her, she seemed off – slightly anxious and rushed. She was never rude, but I got the sense that she had things to get to, and so I’d give her the out and cut off our conversations or visits earlier than I otherwise might have. She seemed to sense what I was doing, and would apologize and ask me to stay longer; I knew that she both meant it but also would be relieved if I didn’t.
One night, coming back from the gym, I came upon Ashley hanging out by one of the side entrances to our building. Her pen was in her hand, but she seemed to be staring into space, not taking a hit. As I came up to the door, she jumped slightly, startled.
“Didn’t mean to make you jump,” I Iaughed, and then teasing: “Are you planning to hit that or just stand out here all night?”
Her response surprised me: “Actually… I don’t know. I think I’m just gonna go back upstairs.”
“Well, don’t let me keep you. I know you’re busy, especially when you’ve got a night off from playing out.”
“Thank you,” she said, looking a combination of grateful and sheepish as she turned in to hold the door for me. As she moved inside and I took the door, she seemed to hesitate, and I asked, “Hey, is everything ok?” She turned back toward me, oddly not making eye contact, and after an initial pause, spilled out, “Um… do you think maybe you have time to come by for a little while?”
“Sure,” I said, perplexed, and followed her up. We climbed the stairs in an awkward silence, and I noticed her hand trembling just slightly as she put her key in her door. I now was fully mystified, and also wary of into what I might be walking.
Once aside, Ashley seemed to deliberately skip turning on the main lights and lit a lamp by the couch, and asked tentatively if I’d like anything to drink. Having come from the gym, I asked for water, and she poured two of them and said she’d be back in a moment, disappearing into her bedroom. Still puzzled, I glanced around, and was surprised by the amount of clutter. Unlike prior times when I’d been by Ashley’s place, her kitchen table and several chairs were covered in what looked like school books and papers.
After a minute, she emerged from the bedroom. She had changed out of her day clothes and was barefoot in a pair of pajama pants and a small tee shirt, with her blond hair pulled back. She looked awfully cute and, it occurred to me, vulnerable. Whatever was going on, I would have to tread gently. She seemed to hesitate halfway across the room, and then finally sat down on the other side of the couch, her legs curled under her while she toyed with her glass, sipping nervously and not quite looking at me. “So, um, how are things with you?” she asked.
I laughed. “They’re just fine, but I don’t think you asked me up to talk about me,” I said, prodding.
After a few moments of hesitation, continuing to play with her glass and scrunching her toes, she said, “Well… um… lately I haven’t been so responsible?” Wanting to take her seriously but also keep the mood light, I said, “Are you asking me?” She blushed and said, “I’m sorry… no, I, um… was letting you know.”
“Ok then. And why are you letting me know?”
“Well… it’s just that… it’s gotten kinda bad…” And then the words just fell out: “… and it’s all my fault! I’ve been smoking way too much and then I don’t finish my reading and studying, and I’m late for class or I don’t go at all because it’s embarrassing to walk in late, and now I’m so behind and that stresses me out so I smoke more and… I just don’t know what to do.” She looked up then, with just a hint of wetness in her eyes.
“Well that’s no good at all,” I said. “I’m sure you can get back out in front of it all, though. You just need to take a week or two, with no smoking, and bear down. They’ll be crappy weeks, but when they’re over and you’re caught back up, you’ll feel great. It’ll totally be worth it. Maybe I’ll even celebrate with you and finally let you talk me into smoking with you,” I said, smiling.
She laughed at that, but then became pensive again. “I know you’re right, and I’ve been thinking of doing that. I just can’t seem to get myself to start and… I thought maybe I need some help?”
“Well, if you’re asking, of course, if I can. But how? I can’t imagine that I know the first thing about your courses,” I joked.
She was quiet again, now hiding her face, but I could see a blush spreading. Sensing that something important was coming, I waited. Finally, she spoke, in barely a whisper. “When I was growing up, I had a friend, Sara. We got in trouble together a few times, and…well, she told… um, she said that her aunt that she lived with was gonna punish her.” Now, intuitively, I thought that I sensed where this might be going. I wanted to let Ashley lead there, though, at her own speed and comfort. Gently, I asked, “How did Sara’s aunt punish her?” She said nothing, clearly struggling. Taking a chance, I slowly reached out and tilted her chin up. “Ashley, how was Sara punished?”
Her eyes now clearly wet, she answered in the same barely whisper: “Her aunt gave her a spanking.”
“I see. And why are you telling me this, Ashley?”
“Because… well because I know Sara was pretty well behaved. I mean… like I said we got in trouble sometime, but she just really had it together. And…um… I just always wondered… if it would help me.”
“If what would help you, young lady?” I asked, now warming to the role I expected that I would need to take.
“If, um… if I had someone… sort of like a big brother… who would I guess keep an eye on me and help me with… uh… behaving?”
“Well, it’s always easier to accomplish anything when you have someone in your corner, and I’m sure that would help. What would this big brother figure do if you didn’t behave?”
Her face now could not have been more red. Finally, she said, for the first time with a bit of assurance, “He’d give me a spanking.” I let that sit for a moment and then asked, “Ashley, would you like me to take that role for you?”
“Yes,” she whispered.
“Well because… well, I thought I could ask because um… we’ve talked a lot and I know you’re open minded and thought maybe you’d be willing to help. And also, um, I know you pretty well, and I trust you and I know it wouldn’t be something that was ever… you know… like uncomfortable.”
Grateful that she held such a high opinion of me, and even feeling a bit unworthy, I said, “I’d be happy to do that for you, Ashley. You know I’ve been rooting for you as it is, in school, with your bands – anything you’ve wanted to do and told me about. You’re an amazing person and I’m honestly humbled that you would ask me this. I think we should take things slow, though, and see how much help you might need and how effective it can be. I don’t want to do anything that makes you uncomfortable… at least emotionally, anyway,” I said, giving her a smile and gently squeezing her arm.
She nodded and quietly said, “Ok. Thank you.”
I let a moment pass, and then said, “I suppose we should address your inability to cut down on your smoking and get back in front of your course work. Do you agree?”
“Ok,” I said. “Please come over here, and have a seat on my knee.”
She stood uncertainly, padded over, and let herself down on my lap, her legs and feet dangling, and I held her still with a gentle hand on her back and my arm across her legs. “Ashley, did your friend tell you how her aunt spanked her?”
“Um… yeah… she told me a few things.”
“Go ahead and tell me. When Sara needed a spanking, what happened?”
I had been wrong earlier: her face could get redder after all.
“She told me… uh, a few things… um, her aunt would pull her pants down and lay her over her lap…”
“Just her pants?”
“Uh…. no. She, uh… her panties too.”
“I thought that might be the case. And did her aunt spank with just her hand?”
“I think usually… but sometimes when we’d really been bad, she said she might get it with a hairbrush… and when we were a little older her aunt would use a belt.”
“Did she spank her soundly?”
“I think she got it good,” she whispered. “I mean… she said a few times that she deserved it… but she was still real nervous when it was gonna happen. There was one time when we were just hanging out doing homework, and she seemed quiet, and I asked… and, um, she said that her aunt gave her a spanking that afternoon and her… her bottom was sore.”
I let that sit there, letting her think about it, and then said, “Ashley, it seems to me that you deserve a spanking for how irresponsible you’ve been lately. Do you agree?”
Sitting on my lap, looking away, her apprehension coming off her in waves, in the moment she seemed little older than a ten year old who’d been caught being naughty. I could hear how torn she was as she eventually breathed, “… yes.”
“Ok. I won’t like having to do this, but I think it will help you, and over the next few days I expect that we’ll talk about it and see if that’s been the case. I want to be very clear about what is about to happen to you, young lady.”
“Ok…,” she nodded and seemed to curl up, suspecting her fate but desperate to not hear it.
“In a moment, I’m going to have you stand up, right in front of me. I expect you to keep your hands at your sides and cooperate, and I’m going to pull down your pajamas, and then pull down your panties. Then I’ll help you over my knee, like the naughty little girl you’ve behaved like… and give you a very sound spanking on your bare bottom. I’m going to spank you until your bottom is bright red and very hot, and I think you’ve learned your lesson. Do you understand all of that?”
Impossibly, here blush deepened. “Yes… please… not too hard?”
Overcome with sympathy for this young woman about whom I cared so much, I gave her a quick hug and then held her shoulders as I looked directly in her eyes and said, “Ashley, I want you to understand that you’re safe here. I’m not going to do anything – anything at all – to harm you in any way. But you also need to understand that these next few minutes are going to be extremely embarrassing, and that the spanking is really going to hurt. I know that you have quite a bit to do, but for tonight, you’re going to go to bed after this, and I promise that you’ll be sleeping on your belly. You can get up early tomorrow, get going with some coffee and not your pen, and begin the work of getting back in front of things.” She hung her head, in acceptance and, I imagined, shame that her behavior had made this talk necessary.
I lowered my hands to Ashley’s waist, and helped her to stand, guiding her directly in front of me. Her fingers clenched and unclenched, as she seemed not to know what to do with her hands despite cooperating and keeping them at her sides. I slid my thumbs into her pajama bottoms and slipped them over her hips and took them all the way to the floor. As my hands came back up and I slid my thumbs into the sides of her panties, she brought her own hands up to cover her face, hiding how mortified she must have been but still cooperating in her own way. “I know how embarrassing this is,” I said to her. “I’m sorry to have to do it, but when you’ve earned a spanking, having your panties lowered and getting it on your bare bottom helps you fully understand how immature and childish your behavior has been. If you hadn’t behaved like a naughty little girl, I wouldn’t have to discipline you like one.” I slipped her panties down, all the way to meet her pajamas around her ankles. With her short tee shirt, she now was bare both in the back and in the front. Not wanting to unnecessarily or inappropriately humiliate her, I made sure to keep my eyes up on her face, where I saw the first of what was soon to be many tears slip between her fingers.
As gently as I could while broking no debate, I guided Ashley around to my side. Perhaps realizing that they wouldn’t be doing her any good at her ankles, she stepped out of her pajamas and panties, but I felt her stiffen slightly when she reached my side. “I’m scared,” she said pitifully, through her hands. I reached up and gently lowered her hands from her face, taking them in mine. “It’s ok to be nervous, but you don’t have to be scared. You’re going to have a very sore bottom when this is over, but I promise to take good care of you. This will hurt, but you won’t be hurt, ever, ok?”
“Ok… thank you,” she whispered.
“Over my knee, young lady.” With that I helped her to bend over, and lifted her legs up onto the couch, letting her lie fully across my lap. In just her little tee shirt, she was naked from her belly down, her bare bottom raised in the same position that countless naughty girls and boys had found themselves in. I couldn’t help but notice how cute and soft her behind looked, with her skin still pale and creamy. She crossed and uncrossed her ankles, scrunching and unscrunching her toes, and she trembled when I rested my hand on her bottom.
“Ashley, you’re about to learn a good lesson over my knee. Anytime you think again of letting your smoking interfere with important things like your course work, I want you to remember the position that you’re in right now, lying here with your panties down, about to get a long, hard spanking on your little bare hiney. If you don’t want this to happen again, you’ll have to start behaving.”
With that, I tightened my grip on her waist, holding her in place, raised my hand, and slapped it down, hard, on the underside of her left cheek. She gasped, “Ow!”, but then my hand slapped down again on the right side, and then the left again, and for a half minute it seemed as if she didn’t catch her breath at all, squirming desperately as I fell into a steady rhythm and her bottom was set on fire. By the time that she caught her breath, the stinging spanking had so heated her behind that all that came out was a chorus of “Ow!”s and “I’ll be good!”s and “Please don’t spank me!”s as she kicked and squirmed over my knee, unabashedly falling into the parlance of a naughty little girl getting an old-fashioned punishment. Shortly after, her bare bottom swiftly reddening under the burning swats, she stopped protesting and I saw her shoulders shake as she began to cry.
Feeling terrible but knowing that Ashley was getting exactly what she needed, I continued to spank her soundly, covering the underside of her bottom and laying extra hard swats at the crease of her legs and bottom, right where she’d sit down, and just slightly below. Her squirming increased significantly and I had to hold her tight. I began to spank even a bit harder, but slowed the rhythm of the spanking in order to let the sting of each swat really sink in, and took the opportunity to scold her. “You won’t be sitting down after this lesson, will you, young lady? This is really going to help you remember to be responsible, isn’t yet?”
“Yes! Yes!” she cried, muffled with her face buried in the cushion.
“I thought so. We’ve learned tonight that you aren’t even a little too big to have your pants and panties pulled down, to be turned over my knee, and to cry your way through a well-deserved spanking when you need one. You’re not too big for a spanking, are you?
“No! I’m sorrrryyyyy!”
My hand was really blistering her poor bottom now. My palm was on fire, and I could only imagine how hot and sore her behind must have been. As I increased the speed of the swats again, her writhing over my knee reached a crescendo together with her wailing as she let herself go, and I made sure to concentrate on the task at hand as she exposed herself with her increasingly desperate squirming. “I know that you are sorry, young lady, and I don’t like doing this, but I need to teach you a lesson that you won’t forget so that it doesn’t have to happen again any time soon. I hope you understand that if your behavior doesn’t improve, this will happen again. I will take your panties right back down, put you over my knee like any other badly behaved little girl, and give you a spanking on your bare hiney that will have you sitting gingerly for a week.”
With that, I brought the hand spanking to its conclusion, finishing with a dozen blazing hot swats on her sit spots, and another dozen right across the underside of her bottom, stinging the sweet spots under both of her now crimson cheeks at once. Her feet drummed furiously into the couch as I finished spanking her, her shoulders racked with sobs. When I finally rested my hand, saying nothing but comfortingly rubbing her back, she continued to cry softly, her cherry red bottom throbbing as she moved her hips against my knee, trying to relieve the awful sting.
“Ashley, you have a very red bottom,“ I told her. “I hope that you fully understand that you earned it, and how to avoid getting another spanking.”
“I’ll behave better,” she mumbled into the cushion. “It hurt so much…”
“I know that it did.” She stiffened and let out a little sob as I added: “Unfortunately, we’re not quite done. If your friend Sara had been as irresponsible as you’ve been when she was a teenager, and had gotten weeks behind on her school work and put herself in danger of failing due to her own immaturity, what would her aunt have done?”
“What would her aunt her done, Ashley?”
“Young lady, please answer my question,” I said, laying a hard swat across her hot bottom.
“Owwww…. ok….. she would have… she would have spanked her with her belt.”
“I thought so. Since you’ve behaved like a naughty teenager yourself, I’m going to give you a dose of my belt now. It won’t be a long one; just enough to let you know what you might get if your behavior doesn’t improve and I have to discipline you again. Stand up now, honey.” She did, slowly rising from my lap and putting her feet down, covering herself in front and with her other hand over her bottom as she remembered her nudity. I stood and with a firm hand on her back, led her around the back of the couch.
“Bend over and put your hands down on the cushions. This will sting badly, but it’s important that you stay in place and don’t reach back. It’ll be over soon if you’re a good girl and cooperate.”
Her face was as red as her behind as she bent forward, her bottom raised high, fully exposing herself. I did everything I could to put thoughts of her nakedness out of my mind, and, rummaging in my gym bag, came out with my stiff leather belt. She seemed to shiver as I folded it over and she heard the clink of the buckle.
“Please don’t spank me anymore…”
“I’m sorry, but this strapping will keep your bottom sore until morning. You’ll have a hot, aching reminder when you get up, to get right to work.” I placed my hand on her back, as gently as possible while keeping her bent over, and laid the first lash across her sit spots, the crack of the belt as it met her tender skin shockingly loud in the empty room. She howled as the sting set in, “Ohhhhh… it hurts! It hurts!”
“I know, honey, I wish that it didn’t have to…” Without pausing, I proceeded to complete two dozen hard strokes, striping her bottom and her sit spots. Though the strapping lasted barely more than a minute, she cried her eyes out during it, squeezing the cushions, kicking her feet back and curling her toes, and pleading that she would be a good girl. When it was over, she lay there, as exposed and vulnerable as she’d likely ever been, crying as her punished bottom, pale and smooth just a short while ago, throbbed, now deep red and clearly very sore.
After a few moments, I helped her to stand, and as she leaned against me and buried her face in my shoulder, I picked her up, one arm under her back and the other under her legs, and carried her back around the couch and sat down, with her curled on my lap. She leaned into me, turning to let the cool air soothe her burning behind, and I very softly stroked the underside of her tender cheeks, telling her that she was a very good girl and a wonderful person who I cared about and was proud of. As her tears began to slow, she said in a tiny voice, “I’m sorry… I’m gonna behave better, I promise.” I lifted her head and wiped a few tears away.
“I’m sure you will. But I want to be clear: you should behave better not because you don’t want another spanking, but for yourself. You’re a very talented drummer, but I know that you’re also putting yourself through school for a reason. You’re very smart to have more than one plan, and whichever path you end up taking, it’s important that you do your best. These past few weeks haven’t been your best, but I’ll bet that this reminder will have you on top of things again. The punishment was just that: a reminder. And now you’ll know that if you misbehave – not over little things but really misbehave and get yourself into trouble in a way that has you going in a bad direction – you’ll know that you’ll get another reminder, and how.”
“Honey, I want you to say it. What kind of reminder will you get?”
Barely whispering, “You’ll give me a spanking….”
“That’s right. What kind of spanking?”
“Over your knee… on my… on my bare hiney.”
“That’s also right. And what else will happen, afterward?”
“You’ll spank me with your belt.”
“And what kind of bottom will you have after?”
“A… I’ll… I’ll have a red hiney, that really hurts.”
“Yes, a bright red little bottom that’s hot and sore long after the spanking is over, so that you really remember it.”
Snuggling against me, “I know… I’ll remember this spanking for a long time.”
After letting her sit for a minute, I set her down and pulled her into a brief but tight hug. Letting her go and gently squeezing her arms, scrupulously not looking down at her nakedness, I said, “It’s time for bed. We can talk about this more another time… or not, if we don’t need to. I’m going to be your friend and always be rooting for you no matter what. Take your pajamas and panties and go to your bedroom, and I’ll let myself out and lock the door behind me.”
She hugged me again then, quickly, then bent down and gathered her clothes, and padded to the bedroom. As I let myself out, I glanced back, and my last sight of her that evening as she closed the bedroom door was her turning to whisper good night, and her thoroughly spanked bare bottom, red as could be and still just as cute.
Next Part: The Aftershow