Another erotic story from the FLOGMASTER!Copyright 1985-2016 by the Flogmaster. All Rights Reserved. Free distribution via electronic medium (i.e. the internet or electronic BBS) is permitted as long as the text is _not_ modified and this copyright is included, but _no_ other form of publication is allowed without written permission. This document _may_ contain explicit material of an ADULT nature. ***READ AT YOUR OWN RISK!*** Anything offensive is your own problem. This story is for **entertainment** purposes only, and it does _not_ necessarily represent the viewpoint of the author or the electronic source where this was obtained. All characters are *fictional* -- any resemblance to real people is purely coincidental.
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(****, M/f, Intense, sensitive, paddling)
A teenager has to grow up quick when her favorite babysitter teaches her adult things. (Approximately 4,135 words. Originally published 1998-02.)
Tonight we egged Mr. Peterson's house. It was a nasty thing to do, but we were furious. He had pushed the city council into creating an 9 p.m. curfew for teenagers. So a bunch of us got into cars and drove by his house throwing eggs at it.
It would have been fine except for one thing: Jon saw me. It was just a glimpse as we zipped past, but the street light caught my face and I saw Jon's eyes and knew instantly he recognized me. Anyone else in the world and I wouldn't have been nearly as ashamed, but Jon... well, I sorta have a crush on him.
He lives next door. When I was little he used to babysit me. He's now twenty-four, back from college, and working as a lawyer in a small firm in town. He's dreamy.
He also knows just how to put me in my place. Something about his eyes -- just one glaring look from him and I just melt. I can't stand it when he disapproves of me. As a kid I used to confess all sorts of things to him, knowing full well it meant a spanking when my parents came home, but I couldn't help it: I wanted Jon's approval.
This weekend my parents are off skiing (I am grounded and couldn't go). Jon was instructed to "keep an eye on me." I knew he'd be waiting for me when I got home, so I put it off as long as I could. I arrived after midnight, and there he was, in the living room, reading a book.
"Late night," he said.
"Yeah." I sat beside him on the sofa. I felt ashamed and embarrassed. I hated this feeling of worthlessness inside me. For a long time we didn't talk, then I said, "I'm sorry, Jon."
"Doesn't make it right."
"Are you only sorry because I saw you?"
I shook my head. "You just made me realize it. I knew it was wrong, but everyone was doing it."
"Your parents aren't going to like this one," he said shaking his head. "You still get spanked?"
I would have giggled if the situation hadn't been so serious. "No! I'm nearly sixteen, remember?"
"Well, I'm too old. I just get grounded now."
"Grounded like this weekend?"
"That did a lot of good."
"I think a sound spanking would be a lot more appropriate," he said, and my shame deepened. "Let's list your sins: you broke your grounding, stayed out past curfew, and vandalized a gentleman's residence. I'd also venture to say there was booze with those kids tonight -- you didn't drink, did you?"
I shook my head in horror. "No. There-- there was _some_ beer, but I didn't take any. It makes me nauseous."
"You've tasted beer?"
Shit! He'd got me on that one. I blushed fiercely and looked away. "Er, once, a long time ago, before I knew better. It was just a sip, but it made me sick."
"Well, I'll ignore the beer, since I don't have any evidence. But your other crimes merit some serious punishment."
"You-- you really aren't going to tell my parents, are you?" I pleaded. I gave him my best hound dog expression, eyes all sad and weepy.
"No," said Jon. "You are."
"Oh, please, Jon, not that. I hate that. Confessing is the worst. Don't make me do that!"
Jon just looked at me, his brown eyes so soft and tender and loving I knew he was doing the right thing. It made me feel black inside. I fell in a heap across his lap and began to sob. Jon patted my back and caressed my head, whispering softly.
"Everything will be fine," he said. "Your parents will just ground you, you know that. Everything will be fine."
"It's not that!" I sobbed, "it's you."
"You hate me. You think I'm awful. I can't stand that."
"I don't think you're awful. I certainly don't hate you. I think you're a bit childish, perhaps--"
"Oooooooh!" I moaned. The worst thing in the world was to have Jon thinking me childish. I wanted him to think of me as a woman, not a little girl. "I'm not a child!"
"Shhhhhh," Jon whispered. "It's okay. Everything's okay. I know you are growing up. I didn't say you were a child. I said you were childish. That's a different thing."
"But you do hate me! You think I should be spanked like a baby!"
Jon sighed, rubbing the back of my neck sternly. "Now listen to me, Josie, I don't think you should be spanked like a baby at all. I never said that. In fact, I think you should be spanked -- spanked most soundly -- but like an adult!"
Something in his tone made me stop crying. "What do you mean? Adults don't get spanked."
"Sure they do," he said. "Husbands and wives spank each other all the time. Lovers do too. Bosses and employees, teachers, friends -- it's very common."
I wiped some tears off my face. "What's an adult spanking?"
Jon looked at me grimly. "I can't explain it. I'd have to show you."
"Yes. It's the only way. Adult spankings are nothing like little kid spankings. Are you ready to be an adult?"
I hesitated. It sounded intriguing. I didn't know what it meant at all, but I had a hope that this was my escape. "If I let you give me an adult spanking, then you won't tell my parents about what I did?"
For a moment Jon seemed to waver, then he nodded. "Okay. But it's going to be a long, hard, _serious_ adult spanking. Several of them, in fact, as you've got a lot to be punished for."
"Okay," I said, feeling better. A chill was passing down my spine but I ignored it, preferring instead to think of how grown up receiving an "adult spanking" sounded. No more little girl Josie. Now I was a woman!
Jon stood up, leaving me on the couch. "Stretch out on your stomach," he said. I obeyed, nervously realizing how this position left my bottom vulnerable. But after all that was what a spanking was about, right? Even an adult spanking?
Jon sat beside me on the couch. His right hand went straight to my bottom. I tensed immediately.
"Relax," he said kindly. "Only little girls cry and fuss over a spanking."
I could feel his palm on my butt. My Lee jeans were my favorite, dark blue with no pockets in back, accenting the smoothness of my rear. Now I felt every nuance of Jon's touch. His hand felt heavier than I expected. He didn't move it but just rested it there, waiting. I held my breath.
"Put your arms under your chest," Jon said. "I want you to rest on your forearms. Keep your head up."
I slid my arms underneath myself, propping myself up so my face was visible and upper chest was no longer in contact with the sofa.
"That's good." Jon smoothed my long hair with his left hand, and I felt his right slide off my butt and traveled down my right leg. Everywhere his hand touched my skin tingled like I'd been stung with nettles.
"Keep your legs flat," he said, firmly pushing my legs down into the sofa cushions. "An adult woman does not kick her feet and struggle like a little girl while being spanked."
I shuddered, remembering how much I used to kick and fight during my childhood spankings. Sometimes Mom would have to hold down my legs while Daddy paddled me. My cheeks went crimson as I thought of how childish that looked, and a horrible idea occurred to me: Jon seemed to know about my kicking -- had he somehow witnessed one of my spankings? Oh, that was too horrible to contemplate!
My attention was returned to present, however, by Jon's hand sliding up my left leg and caressing my left bottom cheek. I wiggled slightly, in anticipation. Surely he was going to spank me now!
"Be still!" scolded Jon, and I gasped at the harshness of his voice. But I also obeyed instantly, freezing in terror of his disapproval.
His hand began to rub my bottom very gently. He slid his palm all over my bottom. I never thought my bottom was especially big or anything, but it seemed to take Jon hours to rub my entire ass. He rubbed up to the small of my back, at the top of my jeans, down the sides of my hips, and even between my legs, up into the crack. His touching me there set off all sorts of bizarre fireworks inside me -- I felt tingles and heat and dampness and my heart went crazy, pounding away like a drum in a fast-beat rock song.
Jon pulled my legs apart slightly, using both hands, and I just lay there and let him. I couldn't have stopped him if I'd wanted to, and I didn't want him to stop. It was like my body was a lump of clay and Jon was massaging and kneading it into the a beautiful sculpture. His touch left me panting and sweaty. I was weak inside. All resistance had been drained from me.
Then Jon's hands were back to my bottom. This time it was both hands at once, rubbing, squeezing my cheeks, gently pinching soft fingerfuls of flesh. His hands pulled at my t-shirt, tugging it upward, leaving a four-inch gap of bare skin before my jeans began. I could feel the cool night air on my skin and it made me shiver with delight and wonder. Just that slight bit of exposure made me all horny inside. I longed for Jon to touch me between the legs again, but now his palm was just resting on my bottom.
"Are you ready for your spanking?"
It took me a moment to realize the question was posed to me -- I nodded rapidly.
"Answer out loud, please," said Jon. "And call me 'sir'."
"Yes, sir," I said. I'd never called anyone sir in my life, but the words seemed natural and not the least bit awkward.
"What are you ready for?"
"I'm ready for my sp-spanking, sir."
"That's very good, Josie. Now we shall begin with a nice hand-warming."
What followed was the most astonishing experience of my life. I had no knowledge of what to expect. My memories of getting spanked when I was younger were filled with tears and dread, usually of Daddy's paddle or Mom's hairbrush. I didn't expect a hand-spanking to be very painful.
The first swat, however, dashed that theory. A thick stinging melted over my ass. It was quickly followed by another, and then another. Jon alternated, spanking my left cheek and then my right, each blow extremely solid. Pain radiated from the focus-point of each smack and the smacks came so quickly that the pain from my left cheek would just begin to dissipate when the sting would begin on the right.
This continued for I don't know how long. I wasn't much conscious of the pain -- only the glowing warmth of my backside and profound emotions coursing through me. There was something overpowering me, some dreadful feeling inside me that welcomed the heat in my ass and longed for it to continue forever. Tears burned in my eyes but I scarcely noticed or cared. I stretched out my body and quivered, basking in the warmth of the hard spanks. Between my legs my sex ached and throbbed. My breasts felt heavy and when I pressed downward my nipples rubbed against the back of my hands. My nipples were so hard I could feel their stiff shape even through my bra and shirt.
Suddenly the spanking stopped. It took me a moment to realize it was over, and then an overwhelming despair gripped me. How could it be over so soon? Surely we had just begun! My body burned with memories and my bottom steamed with warmth that felt wonderful.
"Oh, please," I moaned.
"Did you like your warm-up?" asked Jon.
"Thank you sir," I whispered. My body pulsed with feeling. Jon's hand still rested on my ass. I longed to feel it completely, for it to grab me roughly, pinch me, plunge deep inside me.
"Don't get up," ordered Jon. "I want you to remain in position. But you will remove your shirt and hand it to me."
Shivers of terror and excitement passed through me. I stammered, but couldn't speak. My face went hot with shame as I struggled with my will. Slowly I raised myself to my elbows. I bent my head and pulled at the back of my shirt, dragging it over my head. I could feel my skin being exposed to air: my belly, my back, my breasts. I tore the skirt off my head and slid it down my arms and off completely, handing it over my shoulder to Jon. He took it and tossed it onto the coffee table.
I lay shivering in anticipation, my warm bottom making my naked back seem cold. I was grateful I wore such a modest bra, thick and white. Just this morning I'd been annoyed because my skimpy ones were all in the laundry.
"Shall we continue?" asked Jon.
"Yes, sir." I lay back down, my blushing face between my arms. I didn't want Jon to see my excitement.
"Face up, please." The hand gave a warning pat on my rump. I raised my head, my cheeks flushing with embarrassment.
The spanking was quick and hard, no more than several dozen sharp wallops that produced little cries of alarm from me. Tears stung my eyes and I whimpered, my ass actually hurting this time.
"Stay," said Jon, and I heard him rise. He walked passed me, and into the kitchen. I held my breath, wondering what was going on. Then he was back, a looming silhouette marching resolutely toward me. He was carrying something, something large and rectangularish. Oh, God, no! It was the heavy wooden cutting board from the kitchen counter. It was shaped like a large paddle. Memories of bottom blisters from my father using that exact instrument on my rear brought tears to me eyes.
"Please!" I cried. "Not the paddle!"
"Be quiet. Adults do not whine like children. This is an adult spanking. Adult spankings are much harder than little children spankings. We have scarcely begun."
Jon sat beside me and the heavy paddle plopped down on my butt. I could feel it there, so heavy and hard, covering my entire ass. I trembled in fear. I knew it hurt -- it hurt very badly. It would make Jon's hand spanking seem like love pats.
But even as I dreaded it, a part of me became excited. Between my legs I felt a surge of wonder, and a hot flush passed through my body, up my chest and over my face. I was nearly frantic with anticipation. Would it hurt as much as I remembered? Would it hurt even worse? How hard would Jon paddle me? The realization that it was Jon who punished me -- Jon who stared at my butt as it bounced under the spanking -- drove me nearly off the couch in frenzied delight. But I wasn't allowed to move, so I buried my movements by thrusting myself deeper into the sofa, the soft cushion pressing against my crotch.
The paddling was slow and deliberate. The first few blows made me want to scream. They were monstrously hard, stinging my entire ass so badly I could hardly stand it. I wanted to beg Jon for mercy, to howl that it was too hard, too painful, that I couldn't take it. But in the back of my mind was that image of me as a little girl, lying across Daddy's lap and kicking and screaming -- so childish. I swallowed my fear and forced myself to remain in position, moaning as the paddle continued to wallop my ass.
After a dozen or so the pain reached a peak and I could relax a little. It wasn't that it didn't hurt any more -- each stroke bit into me like an electric shock -- but the pain was familiar, and nothing to be feared. As the paddling continued, my butt grew hotter and hotter and my breathing shorter and shorter. The sofa was damp with my tears. My naked back, which had been so cool earlier, was now covered with a thin sheen of sweat. My bra felt damp. I longed for some of that moisture to reach my scalded rump.
The paddle came again, an incredibly hard spank that made me see stars. I grunted in pain and let out a little cry. My bottom swelled and pulsed and I tensed, waiting for the repeat, but it did not come. I glanced over my shoulder. Jon stood there holding the paddle in his hand.
I gasped for air. "Yes, sir?"
"This is an adult spanking, not a little girl spanking. You do understand that, right?"
"All right. There are things you must do in an adult spanking that you never did as a child."
"An adult never protests or disagrees with punishment. Do you understand?"
"Okay. You will obey me immediately: take off your bra."
I felt as though I'd been slapped. The words rang in my ears and I felt hot blood rushing through my body. A part of me was overwhelmed with the thrill of Jon seeing me naked, while another part was horrified. Still another part set off warning sirens that this was not proper punishment -- Jon was a pervert and just wanted me nude.
Before I could make sense of all the conflicting emotions, however, I realized my hands were already moving. They'd found the clasp at the back of my bra and were struggling to unfasten it. I was obeying Jon without thinking about it. Alarms in my brain cried out for me to stop, but I couldn't. It was like I was watching someone else. My bra slipped off and I handed it to Jon silently, my face a red blotch of shame.
"Thank you," said Jon.
WHAM! The paddle slammed into me without warning and I howled and nearly reach back to grab my ass. WHAM! WHAM! WHAM! came the paddle, harder and much faster than before. This was no careful, deliberate paddling -- this was a wild pounding. My body jerked and bounced and shuddered in pain. Dimly I was aware of my newly naked breasts dangling freely beneath my face. I could feel their flesh bouncing and trembling with every hard whack of the paddle, but I couldn't begin to care. The pain in my ass was so intense I couldn't focus on anything else. I wept and used all my energy to hold myself in position so I wouldn't kick like a baby.
Thank God this paddling wasn't as long as the first. It was over after just a few agonizing minutes, but I was exhausted when Jon put down the paddle. I collapsed on the sofa and just wept, my naked skin gleaming with sweat. I could smell my body odor as I sobbed.
"Stand up," said Jon. I didn't move. "Stand up!" The paddle whacked my ass really hard and I cried out in misery and stumbled to my feet. I stood next to Jon, looking at the floor, my arms crossed in front of my chest.
"Put your hands at your side."
I stared at Jon in horror and moaned, shaking my head. It was a big mistake. Like the wind he moved, so quickly I didn't have time to react. He pulled me to him, bent me over slightly, and with the paddle in his right hand delivered half a dozen of the hardest blows yet to my tender rump. I howled and begged for him to stop, leaping onto my tiptoes. His left arm was wrapped around me, holding me somewhat still as he paddled my ass.
"Are you going to obey now?"
I sniffed. "Yes sir."
"Put your hands at your side."
I didn't hesitate. I put my hands down, leaving my breasts totally exposed. My face burned and I wished I'd never been born I was so embarrassed. But then Jon smiled, a soft, sincere smile.
"Beautiful," he whispered, his voice marked with a tone of awe. I blushed to my toes, but a warmth began in my belly. Jon thought I was beautiful! I smiled back and stood up a little straighter, proudly thrusting my breasts toward him.
"Take off your shoes," he said. "Leave your socks on."
I kicked off my tennies and waited.
"Now the jeans."
Somehow this didn't shock me as much as the bra. I hesitated, but only for a few seconds. Then unbuttoned my jeans and slid them down my legs. My bare legs felt cold, but I didn't care. I stepped out of the jeans and tossed them. Now I was naked except for my underpants and my socks.
Jon nodded. "Turn around."
I obeyed, trembling as I did. My butt faced him, the plump cheeks barely contained by my thin panties. I expected the hard wooden paddle to crash into them, but instead I was startled by the gentle touch of Jon's hand. He cupped my bottom, feeling the pebble-like welts on the skin left by the paddle.
"Nice and toasty," he whispered. Then he took his hand away. "Back on the couch."
I stretched out again, propping myself up with my forearms, my body nearly nude. My bottom felt huge and vulnerable, my panties so thin as to be almost invisible. I was grateful to them for whatever protection they offered, but I was extremely frightened for what I feared was to come.
Jon sat beside me again, and again his hand went to my bottom. This time I could feel his hand ten times more clearly than before, both because there was less material between it and my flesh, and because my ass was hypersensitive.
"So, what do you think of your first adult spanking so far?"
I exhaled heavily. "It hurts," I said.
"Isn't that to be expected?"
"I-- I guess."
"Feel anything else?"
Once again my face was consumed by a powerful blush. "I feel strange inside," I whispered.
"Confused. I... I like it when you touch me there--"
"You mean here?" Jon squeezed a hunk of my ass and held it.
"Ahh! Yeah, there. It-- it makes me horny!" I hissed, bowing my head in shame. My sex pulsed wildly.
"You like feeling horny, don't you."
"Isn't that very naughty?"
"I suppose, but I can't help it."
"I can," said Jon, and he proceeded to spank my bottom several times with his hand. "Is that better?"
"A little," I whispered. My mind was spinning wildly. This was making no sense at all. Here I was, shamefully naked in front of my childhood crush, my bottom being paddled and spanked severely, and yet I was nearly delirious with joy. Though I knew it was wrong to achieve such pleasure from punishment, I wished Jon would never take his hands of my ass.
"How's this?" Jon spanked me a dozen times, hard and fast.
"Better," I murmured, the pain in my ass swelling to nearly mask the ache between my legs.
"Okay, this then," said Jon, and I screamed loudly as the paddle whacked me again and again. Jon didn't stop at a dozen, though, but gave me two dozen cracks that left me breathless and sobbing. My panties seemed to have ridden up into my crack and left most of my cheeks bared for the paddle, for my skin burned like nothing I'd felt yet.
"I'm going to have blisters!" I moaned. I ached to reach back to caress my bottom but I was afraid Jon would use that as an excuse to paddle me more.
"Blisters are very adult," said Jon, his hand drawing gasps from me as he fondled my tender bottom. "A proper adult spanking always leaves blisters and welts and weals."
"Yes, there's much more to come. You still have a whipping coming, and perhaps a switching."
"Please, Jon! No more!" I cried, but at his words my belly was doing flip-flops and I discovered the hunger between my legs was swelling to such an intensity as I had never imagined possible.
"Adults don't beg. Adults accept the consequences of their actions."
I gulped and gritted my teeth. It seemed that tonight I was going to do an awful lot of growing up. What a wonderful life!