New Years Recollections and Resolutions, Part I

This story is a standalone continuation of the Three Ghosts of Halloween. The characters are the same, through it should enjoyable without having read the other story.

“Deck the halls with bows of Holli, Fa La La!…” I hummed along to the music of Jingle Bells as I dug around in my closet looking for something to wear tonight. I don’t know why tune was still in my head, being that Christmas was a week ago. I guess I was just in a festive mood. Tonight was New Year’s Eve and it was time to get my party on. Since becoming an adult, I had become to prefer the New Years celebrations to those of Christmas. Christmas is great and all, but it is a time for family, while New Year’s is a time for friends. The later is just less stressful for me.

I pull the bottom pair of jeans from the stack then give them a good shake. These were my best pair of skinny jeans and I prayed I could still squeeze into them after the holiday food frenzy. I took a deep break as the waist neared to top of my thighs. Releasing my breath, I pulled the jeans up and gave a slight hop. When I landed the waist had cleared by hips and settle into their natural place. I quickly zipped them up before attempting to breath again. I was quite amazed at how easy they went on. Maybe I hadn’t gained as much weight as I had thought.

Next up was a cute top. The first couple options I pulled from the hangers were too “worky” or “cluby.” I wanted something that had an understated sexiness to it. Part of tonight’s fun was going to be teasing Adam all night long before we christened the New Year our special way. I turned around and started on the other side when I pulled out a black cashmere sweater with a mild V-neck. Just the thing get his motor going.

I pulled the sweater over my head and adjusted the front to show a fair amount of cleavage. I moved over to the full length mirror to admire my outfit, “Damn I look hot!” I ran a hand down my body, smoothing out a couple of wrinkles. “Why hadn’t I wore this combo more this winter?” Like a tidal wave, the events surrounding my last wearing of this sweater came back.

I snuck the bags through the backdoor, hoping Adam wasn’t home yet. I had left before him, but I wasn’t sure where he was going, so he could be back already. It would wreck the surprise if he saw his Christmas presents before Christmas. Also, I might have spent a little bit more than I had intended, but the deals were so good.

I tip-toed through our house, like a teenager trying to sneak in after curfew. I had to bump into everything in my path and squeaked every floorboard I could on my way to the master bedroom. I was sure I had made it when I opened the bedroom door only to have the same outcome as most teenagers, being caught.

“Ah, you got home,” Adam said from behind the glow of his laptop. In the low light, I wouldn’t make out much, but he looked a little annoyed from here. “Put away the gifts then we need to have a talk.”

“But..but..but…” I tried defending myself against the unknown accusation.

The next few minutes were a blur. Adam quickly informed me that he knew exactly how much I had spent, and that it was considerably more than we had agreed to spend jointly. Like a thousand dollars more. And that any purchases made for myself would be returned in the morning, plus, he was going to implement our post-Halloween agreement. The next thing I really remember was being face down over his lap as he went to work on my butt. I was squealing from his hand within a minute. When tears started to come he stopped, and began scolding me about my poor spending habits. I have to admit this wasn’t the first time I had spent a little bit too much.

“Ok, stand up,” Adam commanded. I was half expecting him to continue for another 10 minutes of stingy spanks, but he had asked me to get up, like my spanking was all over.

I eased myself off his lap, and immediately started to rub the sting out of my bottom. I barely touched my bottom before he took my wrists and held them together in front of my pussy. “Hey!”

“Not yet, your spanking is even close to being over,” Adam chided as he got up, holding my wrists together with one hand. “I think this is much too serious for a hand spanking.” My heart sank at those words. After the Halloween incident, I had gotten this great idea to look up adult spankings online and spent most of the weekend learning all about the subject as well as domestic discipline and a couple things I wish I could unlearn. The masterful part of my idea was the Discipline Agreement I wrote up and presented to Adam at dinner on Sunday. It basically said he could spank me anytime I was naughty and anyway he deemed appropriate. The thorough fool I am, I provided him examples of misbehaviors and appropriate punishments.

I was spun around and escorted over to the decorative chair we kept in corner of our room. Adam must have pulled it away from the wall, because when he popped me up onto it so I was kneeling, facing the back, I had plenty of room to hold on to the back without bumping my head into the wall. I closed my eyes, waiting for want additional punishment he had in store for me.

I heard it before it’s fiery touch exploded across my bottom. He was using my white leather belt and not holding anything back. In a split second I regretted ever agreeing to be spanked as a second stroke came back. Adam followed my directions exactly, giving me just over dozen horrible strokes while ignoring my pleas for mercy. I was a crying mess when his hug surrounded me and carried me to bed.

“Honey! Where is the bottle of champagne?” Adam’s call from downstairs broke me from my revile. I blinked a couple of times, before noticing in the mirror my hand was rubbing a phantom throb from my bottom. I blushed slightly as I hurried downstairs to find the champagne for him. I had no intention of repeating the Black Friday incident tonight. How could I? We were just going over to our friends for drinks and some games.

It took me only a minute to gather up the champagne, deserts and couple of games we were taking over to Rick and Brittney’s. Once Adam helped me in to my new winter coat, a Christmas present from him, we were off to walk the block and a half to our friend’s house. I had contemplated asking Adam to drive, but the crisp winter’s air felt refreshing. It was quite romantic actually, gazing up at the stars as I held onto my man’s arm. The old fashion light posts lit our path while gentle breezes tried to tickle beneath my pea coat. I felt like I was living in the middle of a romantic movie.

After a brief greeting, Rick took Adam downstairs to show of his new toys. I heard something about XBox before I lost all interest in their conversation. Boys and their toys; things I’ll never understand.

“Do you think we’ll see the guys before midnight?” I asked Brittney as she led the way to the kitchen.

“Yea, the fridge is almost empty in the bar down there. I give them an hour before they come looking for food or beer.”

I chuckled as added, “They can have all the beer.”

“You know it girl. I got big bottle of Jose Silver so we can make margaritas. Let the men have their beer!” Brittney responded, pulling 1.75L bottle of tequila from the counter next to the fridge.

“Margaritas, yikes!” I thought. It tastes so good, and makes me get so bad. I took a quick glance around the counters, looking for some alternative. Anything other than tequila. Wine? Vodka? Whiskey? Nothing was present, and I doubted the fridge would offer anything other than beer. What to do? What should I do? What will I do? Brittney had never seen me after a couple shots of tequila. I actually hadn’t had tequila since that bonfire party Adam dragged me to a couple months after we started dating.

—-

“Hey Babe, what a shot?” Adam asked as he pour some cheap off-brand, tequila into plastic shot glasses.

“Sure!” I grabbed the pink cup and held it high while Rick took a blue one and Adam took a neon yellow.

“Cheers!” I said tapping the guy’s cups then tossed back the shot. The tequila burned in all the good ways. First my throat warmed to its embrace, then a couple gentle tinges in my stomach before I could feel it coursing through my veins. All of a sudden I felt extra alive.

I grabbed the bottle of tequila and poured out another round. I threw mine back before the guys had their plastic cups in the air. The second one was better than the first. The third was even better. We ran out of tequila on the third and Adam volunteered to go get more, and some much needed chasers.

The music felt so good at that moment I just had to dance.

I placed a knee on the edge of the table and tried to propel myself onto it, but my lack of balance was sending me backwards. Luckily, some gentleman saw my problem and provide a little help, and with big hand planted firmly on my ass, I was standing on the table. I let the music do its thing, guiding my hips to the beat as I raised my hands above my head.

Eventually the rock song ended and was replaced by a more upbeat song, “Opps I did it again!” Brittney’s music video shot through my mind, as if it was a personal challenge. I could show her sexy. That little Disney star didn’t know sexy if it was looking her in the face. I closed my eyes as my hips popped with the beat.

My pleated skirt joined my hips, swaying to and fro as the hem danced it’s way up my thighs. The cool night air seeping into the previously clammy confides invigorated me. I just started to increase my gyrations when the song ended and a new, quicker beat song started. For a moment, I was tempted to get down. The singular repetition of snare and bass was sapping my energy. Tequila convinced me to give it a try, and I began putting out my left leg an tapping along with the beat. Two measures later the guitar joined in and recognized the song.

“Sweat Baby! Sweat Baby!” the lyrics blasted from the speakers, encouraging me pantomime the story being portrayed. ” Imitated brushing sweet from my brow, will keeping my hips swaying with the beat. “Put your hands, down my pants, and I bet you’ll feel nuts!” I slipped my right hand down the front of my skirt while making a mock surprise face and cover my mouth with my left hand.

“Come on, get down from there!” Adam yelled over the music. I swept my hand around to brush him off, but depth perception had left my vision at least a shot ago. My hand missed him by two feet and instead getting him to move back, provided him with an anchor to hold me.

“No..” I continued to sway along with the beat which by now only existed in my head. “Let maaa danccce!”

“Hey!” came a collective protest from every guy around. Adam ignored them all, and swept his left arm around my knees and hoisted me into his arms. I squealed in surprise and started wiggling about, trying to free myself. It was at that moment I realized a real problem with dating a linebacker; he is expected to physically stop men three times my size out on the field. I have no chance of escaping his grip if he doesn’t want to let me go. And I am fine with that fact.

Adam took only a couple of steps before gently setting my feet upon the ground. He had thoughtfully assumed I would not like gravity at that moment and set me next to the wall. I held onto the wall until the floor decided to quit titling and stay still. I was then able to look at Adam in the eye, and tell he was quite upset.

“Awe, don’t you like me dancing sexy?” I purred as I ran a finger down his chest.

“Not like some 2-dollar whore!” Adam snapped.

“I am not some whore!” I responded, trying to stand upright. The alcohol was having an effect on my balance, but I knew I could overcome it.

“What you were doing up there sure looked like it!”

“Fuck you!” I waved my right index finger about before landing it on his chest. “If you like it, you can find another girl!” I gave a slight push, turned and walked off to find a guy who liked my dancing. I have no idea how I walked away, but somehow accomplished it.

One Thrown Pompom

“HILLARY!” echoed Coach Windsor’s voice through the locker room. Every other girl in the locker room looked first at their coach, then straight to the back, where the sophomore cowered near her locker. “GET YOUR ASS UP HERE, NOW!”

A collective gasp spread among the girls as they realized their normally reserved coach had just swore. “Butterscotch” and “Frankfurter” where her favorite replacement words when things went wrong. Freshman always would giggle every time she said such a word, though the squad leaders made sure the giggles never progressed past the first practice.

Hillary’s squad mates forced the anxious cheerleader, rather forcefully towards the front of the locker room, and their coach. She tried to hold her ground, but the cotton socks offered no traction on the tiled floor.

“What was that out there?!” Coach Windsor yelled.

“It…ah…Sorry!”

“Sorry is not going to cut it! Your stunt cost us the game!”

“But it was an accident!”

“Who flicks their risk when shaking their pompoms?” Windsor asked rhetorically. “NO ONE! You did it INTENTIONALLY!”

“No I swear, it was an accident.”

“Don’t even dare lie to me. We all know it was intentional. They may be our rivals, but no girl of mine will act in such a disgraceful manner. Pack your bags, you are off the squad!”

“No! Please! I can’t get kicked off! Anything but that!” Hillary dropped to her knees and with clasped hands pleaded for mercy.

“Oh, get up girl, and quit making a fool of yourself.” Windsor tried pulling her up by her shoulders, but the sophomore was too heavy to pickup without her help.

“Please, you don’t understand! I’ll do anything to stay on the squad. I can not get kicked off!”

In sixteen years of coaching cheerleaders, Coach Windsor had thought she had seen everything. But interfering with a game and then the scene this girl was making in front of the whole squad was new. She was about to reinforce her previous pronouncement when a glisten on Hillary’s face caught her eye. The girl was crying, as was expected, but her eyes were filled with sorrow, not the expected despair of a girl trying to cry her way out of a consequence. A voice inside the coach’s head kept repeating this was different and something was wrong.

“Get in my office now!” Windsor commanded, pointing her left index finger at the office door. In a flash, Hillary was on her feet and inside the small, glassed-wall room.

Windsor closed the door as she entered and immediately started with the questions, “What is going on? Why can’t you be kicked off the team?”

Hillary looked down at her hands where they fidgeted with the hem of her t-shirt. She contemplated what to tell her coach. How much of the details to include and whether the coach would believe any of it. Well, the truth is always stranger than fiction.

“I…I’ll have to drop out.” Hillary mumbled.

“What? You are the only one on the squad with an academic scholarship and your on the deans list.” Windsor was puzzled by the obvious lie presented. “Thinking about it, you are probably the only reason the squad isn’t on academic probation. Leaving the team is not going to force you to drop out.”

“But, but, I will have to leave school!”

“Stop lying, being off the squad is hard, but not the end of the world,” Windsor said before turning to open her door so she could escort the girl out.

“I’m not lying. My parents will force me to drop out!” Hillary cried.

Windsor paused with her back to the cheerleader and rubbed her left temple. She could feel a headache already forming and it did not look like she would be able to do anything about it. Facing the glass door, and the dozen pair of eyes focused on her office, Windsor gave the girl one last chance to explain. “Why will your parents force you to drop out?”

“Because they didn’t want me to come here in the first place. They wanted me to go to the small liberal arts college near them, not here. They worry about me being so far away from home. And….and… they only reason they let me come here is because I made the cheerleading squad and the college near them doesn’t even have an athletic department. So if I’m not on the squad I’ll have to drop out.”

Coach Windsor turned to face Hillary. She had heard some really interesting excuses over the years, but this one was a whole different kind of strange. “I really don’t..” The look of utter fear in Hillary’s eyes cut the coach off. “Miss Shah, sit,” the coach said as she went for her own chair behind the desk.

Hillary quickly took a seat and leaned forward, anxiously waiting for her coach’s next words. She hoped they would be involve some alternative to being kicked off the team.

Windsor tapped her nails on the desktop a couple of times as she carefully contemplated her words. “So let me get this correct. You parents only allowed you to come to the university because you earned a spot on the cheerleading squad as a freshman. And now, if you leave the team, they will force you to drop out and go to school back home?”

“Yes, if they allow me to still go to college.” Hillary answered, inadvertently adding the last part. Not being allowed to continue her education was her underlying fear. Saying it made the possibility become real to the girl, bring tears to her eyes.

“Not allow you to go college?” Windsor knew the stereotypes, but she didn’t think they really existed anymore. At least not in America. “Your parents are really that controlling?”

“Yea,” Hillary said as she tried to blink away the water in her eyes.

Windsor considered the implications of allowing Hillary to stay on the team. She would definitely receive flack from Coach Roberts let alone the AD. They both would demand Hillary’s removal; if not her own. She would have to substitute a big, flamboyant punishment for the proposed dismissal, otherwise least they view the sanction as inadequate and force Hillary’s removal. But what should the punishment be?

“So, what do you think is an adequate alternative punishment?”

The girl’s face visibly lighted as the coach’s words sunk in. “Thank you, thank you, thank you. I don’t know, but I’ll do anything!”

“That is the problem. All the typical ways you girls are punished would be viewed as way too light for your actions.” Windsor paused to think for a moment, slowly directing her stare upwards at the blank ceiling. The plain tiles of the drop ceiling often offered her a blank canvas where her mind could release its creativity. This time her thoughts only had a second before she was distracted by movement in her periphery. The rest of the squad was still starring at her office. “What if we ask the rest of the squad for suggestions?”

Hillary hesitated for a moment, trying to find a good alternative to her coach’s suggestion. When it accepted she had nothing, she answered, “ah, OK.”

Windsor got up and led the cheerleader out in to the locker room where the rest of the girls gathered around. “Hillary has made a very convincing argument to stay on the squad, and I have reluctantly agreed to allow it. HOWEVER, she does deserve to be punished, and since leaving her on the team may result in consequences for the squad as a whole, I thought it only appropriate for you to determine her punishment. Any suggestions?”

“Laps?” One girl offered.

“Community services?” Came another offer.

“Cleaning the locker room and our stuff?” Someone in the back shouted out.

“Spanking?” Lea offered sarcastically.

“OK.” Hillary chirped up before more suggestions could be offered.

“What? I was just kidding.” Lea said.

“Oh….” Hillary responded, embarrassed at her misunderstanding.

“That would be highly inappropriate,” Windsor added.

“Oh, yea, I guess so,” Hillary said sullenly.

“But it’d be great to see!” came a shout from the back.

“And definitely be a real punishment!” another girl added.

“Why can’t we?” someone shouted.

“Yea!” echoed a chorus of girls.

Windsor could feel her headache returning. She knew all the legal implications really just meant the paperwork would be substantial. Inappropriateness didn’t matter as much as consent, and the lack of coercion. Neither issue seemed to be relevant. Moreover, it could serve the purposes of this unfortunate situation, if Coach Roberts and the AD thought it was sufficient. “But how do I prove to Coach Roberts and the Athletic Director that Hillary has been sufficiently punished for her antic?”

The question quieted the locker room for few moments. The obvious answer was to simply show them the spanking, or at least the evidence of the spanking, however the girls were concerned this might be too much for Hillary or their Coach and kill the prospect of seeing their teammate spanked.

Rachelle looked around at her teammates and could tell this duty fell on her shoulders as squad captain. Being a leader is hard, she thought before stepping forward. “We could show them. Afterwards, you could take her to the basketball team’s locker room and show Coach Roberts him Hillary’s spanked butt.”

Hillary’s blush started showing vividly across her olive skin, though she offered no protest.

The coach looked down at Hillary, then back at the rest of the squad. “This is insane,” she thought. Insane, but it might work. With a shake of her head, she asked, “Hillary, you think it would be fair and appropriate?”

“Ah…hmmm…yea.” Hillary mumbled.

“Are you sure?” Windsor asked. “I do not want you to feel you are being pressured into this.”

“No, its OK,” Hillary mumbled.

“OK. Girls get your showers while I get some paperwork drawn up,” Coach Windsor waved off the squad. Returning to her office, she wondered if this would actually work, and more importantly, when this blew up in her face, if her father would still welcome her at his firm. He never really supported her decision to coach cheerleading instead of coming to work at his firm after school. She was, thought, now thankful he had convinced to keep her license current. It wouldn’t be that bad of a fallback career.

Windsor did a quick online search for some boilerplate language to include in the wavier and found an alarming large amount of samples. She had hoped for an example, not a couple dozen that she quickly found. The multitude of contracts did made creating a reasonably sound waiver quick. She printed off a couple of copies as the last of the girls returned from the showers.

Standing at her office’s threshold, she motioned for Hillary to join her in the office. The sophomore obey.

“Are you sure you want to go through with this?” Windsor asked, holding the wavier in her hands.

Hillary took a deep breath, welling up the little little confidence she had remaining, then still answered with a hesitant “Yes ma’am.”

“OK, then I need you to read and sign these, saying you agree to this punishment, are not being coerced into it and fully understand that it involves corporal punishment and display of your bare bottom.”

Hillary didn’t even both to respond, simply taking the offered pen and signing the documents without reading them. “Foolish kid, not reading a contract,” Windsor thought as she pointed out where a signature or initial was required.

Once the paperwork was completed, the coach led the way back into the locker room. The rest of the squad instantly got silent and huddle around the coach. “OK, so this is how it will work. Hillary is going to bend over the table here and you each will spank her five times. Afterwards I will take her to show Coach Roberts. Understand?”

Rachelle raised her hand, “Coach, may one of us hold her hand during it?”

The question surprised Windsor. She thought the girls might be overly harsh on their teammate, not caring and compassionate. “Yes, that would be nice. Any other questions?” No one reacted. “Good. Now does anyone else have a hairbrush?”

“I do,” said Lea as she fetched a heavy plastic number from her locker. It was the shape of a traditional wooden oval hairbrush, except made of high-density polyethylene with plastic quills.

“That’ll work,” Windsor said, taking the implement from Lea. “Rachelle would you organize your squad?”

Rachelle quickly organized the squad in order of seniority, with the newest squad members at the front of the line. She then took Hillary by the hand, as if she was leading a young child across the street, and lead the sophomore to the aforementioned table. Hillary was gently bent over the table, so her forearms rested on the cold surface. Rachelle made sure she was as comfortable as possible before turning to the coach.

“Is this OK?” Rachelle asked Windsor.

“Hmm,” Windsor paused in her response, trying to think if something was missing, primarily from her liability standpoint. Hillary mistook the hesitation as a sign that she was not prepared correctly, and immediately shed the towel wrapped around her torso. “No.” Windsor finished, before she realized Hillary was naked.

“OK. Ivanka, you are first,” Rachelle announced. Windsor handed over the hairbrush as the freshman moved behind Hillary. Rachelle stood to the side of the table, taking Hillary’s hands in her own. “Are you ready?” she asked Hillary.

“Yea,” Hillary said with a deep breath.

Thuack! Hillary grunted as the hairbrush bashed into her bottom. The process was repeated four more times by the freshman, drawing a grunt each time.

“You are going good,” Rachelle comforted Hillary before nodding to the next cheerleader.

Another 5 swats of the hairbrush bashed into Hillary’s bottom, earning her punisher with 5 grunts. The process repeated over and over, as all of the underclassmen took a turn. By the time the first senior was up, Hillary was really feeling the sting generated by the hard plastic, but had yet to really cry out at any single swat.

Kelsey was the first of the three seniors to take a turn. She was the only squad member to be a dual athlete, also being a member of the varsity tennis team. She spun the hairbrush in her hand, as if it was her tennis racket before taking up a solid forehand stance. She had to suppress a broad grin as she admired the red bottom presented before her.

THUACK! “AAAHEEEEEEEEEEE!” Hillary squealed as the hairbrush ricochet off her the lower right cheek, continuing at an upward arch until parting ways with her flesh near the crown of bottom.

THUACK! “AAAHEEEEEEEEEEE!” Hillary squealed again as Kelsey repeated her first stroke on the left side.

Kelsey repeated the hard swats again for each cheeks, increasing Hillary’s level of distress each time.

THUACK! “GRRRRRAAAAAHHH!” Hillary cried out as hairbrush impacted squarely on the intersection of her legs and bottom. She bounced on the table, trying to wiggle free from Rachelle’s grip, but physics and raw strength were on the senior’s side.

Kelsey had been always been taught to follow through with her swings in tennis and made sure she applied the principle to spanking Hillary. The force of her swat was only partially absorbed by sophomore’s cheeks and slim thighs, allowing the brush to just reach the poor girl’s nether lips.

“Your turn Sam,” Kelsey said handing off the hairbrush, giving the girl a sly grin.

Sam looked over the maroon bottom presented to her, looking for missed areas. She quickly found two perfect targets and took up position to Hillary’s right.

Being the only left handed squad member, she intended to provide an unique experience to the sophomore.

THUACK! “Ahhh Ahhhh Ahhhh Ahhh Please not there!” Hillary yelped in ragged breaths as the sting set into the top of her right thigh. Quickly a dark red oval appeared on the olive skin.

Sam disregarded the pleas, instead providing the other thigh a matching mark. Hillary flexed her quads, trying to dissipate the intense sting.

Sam waited for the girl to settle down before providing two quick reinforcements to her previous swats. Hillary yelped through her tears as the sting was redoubled in her thighs.

Sam waited only long enough for her target to stop swaying before attempting to out do Kelsey’s final swat. Hillary’s reaction to the hard upward swat at the juncture of legs and bottom was slightly muted when compared to the first time, however it was strictly due to exhaustion than a lack of intensity.

Rachelle waited until Hillary settled down before letting go of her wrists. She took the hairbrush from Sam and got in position behind her target before pausing for a moment and leaning over the crying girl. “Are you ever going to pull a stunt like that again?” She whispered in Hillary’s ear. The girl vigorously shook her head while trying to say “no,” through her sobs.

“Good!” Rachelle mumbled to herself as she stood up. She lightly rested her left hand on Hillary’s lower back and pulled back her right arm. As if in an instant, Rachelle delivered four quick swats, one to each of the targets focused on by her fellow seniors. She had to push down hard just above Hillary’s tailbone to keep her in place as prepared to deliver the final stroke exactly as Kelsey and Sam had.

THUACK! “Ahhh Ssaaa Ahhhh Saaa AAhh Ahhh!” Hillary cried out between hiccups and sobs. Rachelle removed her hand, allowing the girl to wiggle about on the table as her hands shot back to comfort her bottom.

“OK girls, Hillary has accepted her punishment. Get changed and get going.” Coach Windsor dismissed the cheerleaders before helping Hillary up. The girl quietly cried on the coach’s shoulder for a few minutes as she regained her senses.

Windsor found it odd that Hillary prompted the trip down the hall, albeit after she had returned her uniform, sans panties. Coach Roberts was furious when Windsor and Hillary entered his office though a few quick words by Windsor made him speechless. Hillary bent partially over and showed her bruising bottom with a flick of her skirt. Then the two women were gone as quickly as they had appeared, though leaving a considerably less angry coach in their aftermath.

“I have got to ask, why did you accept being spanked by the girls? That was brutal. I couldn’t have done it.” Windsor asked Hillary as they slowly made their way back to the women’s locker room.

“Ah, mom will do worse,” Hillary answered, opening the door.

Coach Windsor took the door as Hillary entered the froze as the words hit home. “Will do worse?”

Walt and his princess

Walt tried to focus on road and not the destination. It was especially hard to do this evening because of the stressful cause of this trip. Normally he preferred to make this trip in the daylight, rather than the darkened evening of late autumn. A few light flurries didn’t help circumstances.

The small city appeared suddenly out of the corn fields and patches of woods. It was a quaint town, with a couple dozen small business focused on serving the towns primary employer or the dozens of farmers in the surrounding countryside. It was at this point in the drive that Walt often yearned to sell his house in the larger city and move out here. The thought of at least an hour commute to work every morning always quashed the dream.

Walt made his way down the two lane streets, occasionally turning right or left as needed. Arriving at his destination, he was happily surprised to find an empty angle parking spot. Often he had to drive around the block a few times to find one or try to parallel park the 3/4 ton Silverado. The later would be a torture even the best driving instructor, especially with the popularity of Honda Civic’s in the area.

The burly construction manager overtook the building with the determination of a Caesar conquering Gaul. The night security guard only gave a half-hearted attempt to interrupt his progress. The comfortable confines of his desk and the fact Walt appeared to have 6 inches, 50 pounds and 30 years on the teenager did help persuade him into any real action. Walt didn’t pay his meek questions any notice, entering the stairwell and climbing to the 4th floor, two stairs at a time.

—-

“Daddy!?” Jessie exclaimed with a clear mixture of excitement and trepidation. She was always happy to see him, though worried why he hadn’t called. Her concerns didn’t prevent her from attacking him with a bear hug.

“Hi baby,” Walt replied damply, though joining his offspring in the warm embrace for a moment.

“So why are you here?” she asked, ushering him into her dorm room. She picked up on his sullen attitude as soon as she closed the door. “It isn’t Grandma Winthrop, is it?”

“No, no, Grandma Winthrop is actually doing better. The new medication is really helping.”

“Oh, good,” she relaxed into her desk chair at the good news. “So why are you here?”

“Well, we need to talk.” he said as he unclipped his phone from its holster.

Those four words sent a shiver down the girl’s spine. Walt only ever used that phrase when he needed to have a serious discussion with her, and if grandma was doing better, it probably involved her.

“I found these online yesterday and I wanted to discuss them with you.” He made a few swipes on his phone before passing the device to her.

She already knew the basic premise of the phone’s content, the extend of content was the only question. It only took her a glance to know he had seen everything.

“You care to explain?”

“Daddy…hmmm….hmmm…I can explain…I…” She knew lying would make her predicament worst though saying the truth would probably make things worst also. Nothing was her best bet.

“You skipped class, went out partying when you should have been studying and then failed your exam? That sound about right?” Walt glare bored straight into Jessie’ soul.

“I’m sorry,” she whimpered, looking down to avoid the look of disappointment wrote across his face.

“You are always sorry that you got caught, I am disappointed that you put yourself in this situation.” He let the words soak in for a few moments as he looked down onto the pig-tails sprouting from her head. He was glad she was too ashamed to look at him, because she could bring him to his knees at will.

“I now, I’m sorry,” her voice faded off with each word.

“You know what this means. Now where is my princess’ hairbrush?”

“DADDY!” Jessie squealed, instantly regaining her composure. “PLEASE NOT HERE!”

“Yes here,” he stated. “your hairbrush?”

“Please!” she tried again, raising her voice slightly while opening her eyes extra wide. He responded with a harder glare, reminding himself he had to be strong. He knew if she really started pouting, she’d melt his heart and he’d just forgive her.

She was doomed and there was nothing she could do now to save herself. It didn’t mean she wouldn’t try. She swept her eyes down and away from Walt’s glare. “It’s there some other way?” she asked, even as she fetched the wooden hairbrush from atop her dresser.

She stared at the highly polished maple backside for a moment, remembering an incident shortly after she moved into the dorms. Ivy and her had been getting ready to go out when her roommate commented about what a nice hairbrush she had. It hadn’t been her intention to bring it with her to college, rather it was insisted upon her.

“Come on, no more dawdling.” She handed him the instrument of doom, then played with the hem of her college sweatshirt as she waited for more instructions. He hadn’t yet sat down, so she doubted she’d be going over his lap. She wasn’t sure if this was a good thing, since going over his lap meant a more embarrassing, thought generally less painful spanking.

“Where is your exam at?” Without thinking, she turned and fished the stapled sheets from a folder on her desk. “I’ll take that. Get out a sheet of paper and something to write with. We are going to go through your exam until you know ever answer.”

She groaned at the revelation, though fetched a blank sheet of paper and a mechanical pencil.

“Bend over your desk,” he commanded. Initially she had her legs quite close to the back of her pushed-in desk chair, though a few taps with the hairbrush on the top of her thighs prompted her to move her feet backwards, until her torso was nearly horizontal. Walt wasted no time preparing his target by dropping Jessie’ shorts and panties.

“What is the formula for the measurement of kinetic energy?” he asked.

“KE equals mass times velocity squared.” she answered with as much confidence allowed by her vulnerable position. CRACK! “Aheee” she cried out when the hairbrush bit into her tender flesh.

“Correct,” he stated. “What is the formula for momentum?”

“ah…force times … ah ….mass?” she answered then tensed up in preparation for another spank. He didn’t disappoint, bringing the makeshift paddle down in five quick blows.

“Wrong. Momentum is mass times velocity.”

Walt continued through her exam, giving her a single swat for correct answers and five for incorrect answers. She passed through the ten multiple choice questions with only 18 swats. It was more than enough to focus her attention on her stinging bottom, thought not quite enough to draw out more than the occasional tear.

The short answer questions were her downfall, on both the exam and her current resolve. She only answered two of the ten correctly, and paid for it. The sting of the little paddle quickly overtook her, reducing her to a teary mess. Jessie could barely see the sheet of paper in front of her when they reached the calculation problems.

She didn’t even try on the five calculation problems, simply surrendering to the fact she would take another 25 swats and hopefully it would be over. When Walt noticed her giving up, it actually became easier for him to spank her. Until this point, every tear she shed drove a spike into his heart, but when she gave up, it reinvigorated his annoyance with her. Her lack of determination was a constant conflict between them, often ending with her in a similar position.

Walt removed his hand from her lower back and she instantly bolted upright. She danced in a circle, clutching her flaming bottom. He scratched his eyebrow, avoiding watching her obscene gesture while he gave her a few moments to regain her senses. “Why don’t you go stand over there for a while,” he said pointing to the only clear section of wall in the dorm room.

Whipping tears from her eyes, Jessie obeyed him with tiny steps. She knew what was expected and crossing her arms behind her while holding up the back of her sweatshirt. Her glowing bottom would be on display for some unknown length of time and she just hoped it ended before Ivy returned. What would Ivy say, she asked herself. Any response would be mortifying.

Walt took a seat on the futon and flipped on the News. He would have preferred to read the paper or anything quietly, though in his haste he had forgot to grab it. The News would have to do, even if it gave Jessie a sense of time. An hour of reflection though would do her well.

Forty minutes into Jessie’s vigil, Ivy decided to crash the party, sweeping into the room before Walt or Jessie could react.

“Hello,” Ivy said, tossing her book-bag onto the futon next to Walt. “Jessie, you didn’t say….”

“YEEKS!” Jessie screeched, at the intrusion. She instinctively turned to her right, away from Ivy and Walt, while shielding her front by pulling he sweatshirt down. The action had the undesirable effect of highlighting what had only been slightly noticeable under the back of the over-sized shirt.

“Uhmmm Uhmmm, sorry,” Ivy grabbed her book-bag and almost ran out the door.

To be Continued…

Bonus points for anyone who figures out what happens in part II. 🙂

In the Back Office of the Leopard Lounge

“Why do they always want to go to the Leopard Lounge?” Mike complained while stuffing the last of the contracts into his Attache folder.

“Come on, What man doesn’t like going to the strip club, AND having the company pay for it!” Lee shot back.

“One with a pair of daughters the same age as those girls on the stage. I can’t believe any parent would allow their daughter to do such degrading acts.”
——
BOOM boom boom BOOM boom boom! The base rocked through the small private room. A pair of half-naked women ground their bodies together in front of Mike and Lee’s foreign guests. Mike bet himself it would take two more hours of this, and more importantly another bottle of Johnny Walker Black, to get the deal done. If it wasn’t for the 1.4 million commission he wouldn’t put up with this shit anymore. He could feel the ache in his knees from the long day and sitting in one spot for too long. A walk to the restroom would loosen them up he though. They probably wouldn’t even notice he was gone.

Mike left the Champagne room to make his way through the main club as the lights dimmed followed by BeBeBeBe Boom blaring through the speakers. “Milk! Milk! Lemonade! Round the back’s where chocolate’s made!” Filled the club over and over in an electronic voice. Mike could just make out the silhouette of a girl shaking her ass on stage.
——
“I know you’re thirsty baby standing in the heat” a female voice sung as the spotlights highlighted the backside of the dancer. She danced to the beat in a short white lab coat like jacket. Mike thought it looked like a demented version of those old milk man uniforms. Also the voice reminded him of Katy Perry. He could pick out the voice anywhere since his eldest daughter became completely obsessed with the singer. He slipped past a server and around the back of the island bar.

The girl pranced up and down the runway a few times, working up the crowd’s anticipation. “Don’t you know that its so delicious, yummy and new!” The girl faced the back wall and whipped off the jacket, revealing a yellow and white string bikini. “But first comes, first serves so bottom’s up!” the speakers sung while the girl dropped low then shot her ass into the air on the ‘bottom’s up’ phrase.

She shot up, and spun around to face the crowd just in time to grab a hold of each breast in time with the lyrics “Milk! Milk!” then planted her palm firmly on her crotch at “Lemonade!” She turned to her side, starting directly at a guy in the front room as she slide her right finger from her tit down her side and slapped her ass on “made!”. The guy started hooting and hollering throwing bills at her.

Mike rounded the bar and looked at the stage as the girl repeated the performance for another audience member. Her back was mostly turned to Mike so he couldn’t see much. She turned again, this time directly facing Mike’s direction. He shook his head and blinked. He could not believe his eyes. He made straight for the front row.

The girl closed her eyes and turned to her left, starting the few moves again at the beginning. “Milk, Milk, Lemonade!” She slowly opened her eyes to glance at her new target while she traced her curves. There stood Mike.

“AAAAHHHHHHH!” the girl screamed. She spun around and ran as fast as the high heels would allow to the stage exit. Mike weaved his way around the patrons and reached the doorway before the girl.

“Daddy!” the girl cried when Mike snatched her up. The bouncer was on top of Mike immediately, placing a heavy hand on his shoulder and pulled Mike backwards while placing himself between Mike and the girl.

“Hold up” a baritone voice echoed came from behind the bouncer. “Missy,” the older and very well dressed gentleman spoke from his table. “Is this man really your father?”

“Yes” the girl mumbled.

“Damn right she is and we have a few things to discuss,” Mike pitched in.

“Understandably so,” the man at the table said, “let go back to my office.” The bouncer released the pair allowing them to follow the club owner into the back. The girl kept her eyes on the floor as she walked between the owner and her father.

Mike entered the owner’s office to find it very well appointed, and oddly professional. The owner was dressed to the nines and his office reflected this sophisticated style. Mahogany wood paneling lined the walls, matching the expansive desk. A name plaque read “Quincey Debluff” in gold lettering.

“Please have a seat,” Quincey motioned to a pair of leather chairs in front of the desk. He took his place behind the desk and extracted a manilla folder from the drawer. Quincy look straight at Mike asking, “Is she a minor?”

“No, she’s 25.” Mike responded with a deep sigh.

“Good. Then everything here is legal.” Quincey stated.

“Legal or not, no daughter of mine will be a stripper!” Mike yelled at his daughter.

“I’m sorry daddy! I needed the extra money and Izzy and I thought it would be fun and easy!” she cried.

“Fun and easy! Where the hell did that come from? And Izzy is her also!?” Mike light into his daughter.

Quincey thumbed through the other applications from tonight’s amateur night. Izzy must be this Isabella Jarkina. Pretty little thing.

“Was it your idea or hers to strip? And why in hell did you need the money?” Mike yelled.

“I’m sorry daddy. We saw the sign together.”

“Why don’t I give you two a moment and I’ll go find miss Jarkina?” Quincey could read Mike’s face like a book. He was Mike was embarrassed would prefer a little privacy to deal with his daughter. Quincey couldn’t blame the man, he’d be just as pissed to find his daughter on stage.

“Thank you, that would be much appreciated.” Mike said as kindly as he could.

Quincey closed the door behind him and headed towards the dressing room. It took him a few minutes to find Isabella, getting ready at a mirror in the back. She wore a baby blue mesh pants and blouse over a matching bra and panty set. The Harlem girl look matched up well with her dark almond skin and black hair.

“Miss Jarkina, please come with me.” Quincey told her.

Izzy twisted her body to the right so she could see who was speaking to her. The sharply dressed man surprised her a little. “Is there something wrong?”

“Just please come with me.” Quincey repeated, waving his hand towards the door. Isabella sat down the mascara pencil and follow the man’s prompts towards the doorway. She did what he wanted but they didn’t just let anyone in the back. He was dressed too well to be a bouncer. Maybe the owner wanted to see her. Maybe he wanted to feature her, or was there something wrong with her application? She couldn’t get kicked out before performing! She needed at least the tips.

“What is wrong?” Izzy asked but Quincey just ignored her, directing the girl towards his office.

Quincey opened his office door to find the girl’s bare bottom pointed straight at him. Mike cracked his belt crisply down on the girl’s already pink bottom. His left hand held her flat across Quincey’s desk.

“Ah” the girl cried out as the leather bit into her flesh. Another red bar painted across the bare bottom.

“Ally,” cried Izzy when she saw her friend bent over the desk. Mike just ignored their guests and spanked Ally again.

“Ahhh snifff.” Ally didn’t even realize her friend was there until she felt Izzy’s hand touch her bottom.

“Please stop Mr Pawinski!” Izzy cried covering her friend’s butt with her forearms.

Quincey closed the door and took up post next to it. He’d seen everything, but it had been a while since a girl was spanked over his desk.

“Izzy move now!”

“PLEASE Daddy!” Ally cried, twisting around to face her father.

“Get your ass back in position. I’m only half done with you. And you!” Mike pointed the belt at Izzy “Get over to the wall, because I know your father going give you the same when I get you home. You won’t want to make it any worst!”

Izzy’s hands flew to her own bottom, “Please don’t tell my parents! PLEASE!!!!!!” she cried.

“You deserve the same as Ally, no stop crying and move!”

“Fine, just don’t tell my parents!” Izzy cried. That belt looked viscous, but had to be better than her parents finding out.

“OK, your next, now move!” Mike barked. Izzy took a few steps back keeping her hands on bottom.

“Ah, Spanking your own daughter is one thing, but someone else’s is taking it a little far,” Quincey but in.

“It’s ok.” Izzy mumbled.

Quincey thought through the implications for a moment. If she signed something than he couldn’t really be sued, successfully. He pulled a sheet of paper and pen from a side table and set it on top. “Then write that out and sign it.” he commanded.

Izzy shuffled her feet over to Quincey as Mike got back to work.

CRACK! “I agree to Mr.” CRACK! “Pawinski spanking me for” CRACK! “being at Leopard Lounge” CRACK! “and stripping” CRACK! “at the amateur CRACK! “night contest.” CRACK! “In exchange” CRACK! “He won’t tell my” CRACK! “parents about it” CRACK! “Isabella Jarkina”

Mike laid into his daughter with half a dozen quick, hard swipes, turning her into a sobbing mess. He took a breath and reviewed candy apple red tint to her bottom. Adequate for now he reckoned. Her mother wouldn’t agree though.

“That’s enough for now. Get up and get your nose to the wall,” Mike commanded of his daughter. Ally reached back with both hands, rubbing out some of the burn before easing herself up and shuffling over to the wall.

“Izzy over the desk” Mike waved the belt at his daughter’s friend. The girl meekly followed the directions. She could feel Ally’s warmth radiating from the hard wood. Getting her face close, she could see a few tears laying on the polished surface.

Mike pulled the belt back when Quincey interrupted him again, “Ah is that my costume?”

“Yesss…” Izzy mumbled.

“The you either remove it or you’ll pay for any damages,” Quincey informed the girl.

“Yes sir” Izzy agreed.

“Do you have enough money to pay for it?” Mike asked.

“Ah…no sir. Please be careful.” Izzy cried.

“Take it off then.” Mike said dryly. Izzy let out a sniffle then reached down to her waistband. She eased her hips off the desk then slide the pants and bikini bottoms down, revealing a golden canvas for Mike.

Mike set his left hand on the girl’s lower back then cracked the belt across the center.

“Ahhh” Izzy cried out. Mike was unphased and made quick work of the girl’s bottom. He colored it red from the top of the cheeks to midway down her thighs. He paused for a moment before laying 6 hard swats across her sit spot, eliciting a fresh cry and a couple of kicks each time.

“You can go join Ally for the moment” Mike said in a huff. He turned to Quincey as Izzy moved off the desk, rubbing her bottom all the way. “I should get these girls home. Where are their clothes?”

“I’ll have them brought here.” Quincey walked over to his desk and made a quick call. Barely a minute later a regular appeared at the door with 2 plastic bags.

“Get dressed quickly!” Mike told the two girls. They covered their crotches with on hand while taking their plastic bag with the other.

Ally looked around for a moment before asking “Where?”

“Right here, and be quick!” Mike snapped. Both girls could see arguing would only involve more of the belt. They turned their backs to the men before kneeling down and finding their panties. It only took a few painful moments for them to slip on their panties, wiggle into the tight fitting jeans and swap their costume bras for their own bra and t-shirts.

“Silver will show you out the side door, and girls, please do not come back.” Quincey said as he escorted the group out his door.

Quincey closed the door and returned to his desk. Damn that was sexy, he though. Maybe he could make it into a Tuesday night special. Probably should review the security tapes for any more ideas. A few key strokes was all it took to bring up an image of himself sitting at his desk.