Tag Archives: F/f discipline

Gloria is Caned – a fragment


“I want you to bend over the chair and get a good grip on the seat.”

Gloria’s eyes widened at her girlfriend’s demand. Over the last few days, Jennifer had threatened to spank her, if Gloria didn’t change her ways. After so many threats, the redhead had decided that Jennifer was bluffing.

But now Gloria wasn’t so sure. Jennifer gripped a short rod tightly in her right hand, and she was fairly shaking with rage.

“Now!” Jennifer snapped, raising the cane and pointing at the chair. “Bend over the chair, now!”

Gloria’s mouth opened. She was about to protest. But one quick glance into her girlfriend’s eyes was enough to convince her to obey. Gloria saw anger in Jennifer’s pretty, blue eyes. Something she had never seen before.

Hesitantly, Gloria leaned over the chair back. She was just tall enough to reach the edge of the seat, but had to stretch to grip her fingers around the edge. Dazed, Glorian still couldn’t believe that Jennifer would actually use the cane on her backside.

Then Gloria felt Jennifer’s fingers twist the hem of her skirt. The redhead tensed as Jennifer rolled her skirt and tucked it into her belt, out of the way. Gloria’s white panties – the only protection the redhead’s upturned bottom would have from Jennifer’s cane – were now exposed.

Involuntarily, Gloria trembled.

“Please,” she whispered. “Don’t do this.”

Jennifer responded with a sudden open-handed slap on Gloria’s backside.

“No!” Gloria jerked her head up and howled. She’d been spanked at home by her parents, but it had never hurt so much. At first Gloria thought Jennifer’s slap was the first stroke of the cane, but then she realised it was only her girlfriend’s hand.

Gloria looked over her shoulder and saw Jennifer raise the cane.

“Six strokes, Gloria,” Jennifer said, lifting the cane above her shoulder. “And you’d better stay in position, or I’ll add another stroke!”

Sss-CRACK!

The cane whipped across Gloria’s pantied-covered bottom. Gloria screamed and leapt upright. She spun where she stood to face Jennifer, her fingers clutching her stinging bottom.

Calmly, Jennifer waited for her girlfriend’s cries to subside. When they did, Jennifer pointed at the chair again.

“That stroke doesn’t count,” she said. “Now, bend over. You still have six to go.”

Lilah and Darlene are Spanked with a Slipper – a fragment


“Bend over, Lilah, and grip your ankles.”

Darlene watched as the trembling young woman bent at the waist. She was a limber girl, and the blonde easily assumed the position, her long hair falling forward, like a waterfall to the wooden floor. And though Lilah had easily bent and grasped her ankles, the young woman was obviously terrified; her entire body shook as she bent forward.

“I think this time, Lilah, you have earned 12 strokes with the slipper.”

Darlene heard the young girl squeak as the punishment was announced.

“And each of those strokes,” the Mistress continued, “will be upon your bare bottom.”

“Oh no, Mistress.” They were Lilah’s first words since she and Darlene had entered the Mistress’s chambers. “Please not on my bare bottom. Please!” Though Lilah pleaded, she did not move from her position. She cried. She begged. But Lilah did not release her ankles.

Darlene was thunderstruck. She herself had never been seriously punished before, and Darlene had never witnessed anyone else getting a spanking. Yet she knew that soon her own bottom would soon be slippered, as she and Lilah were in the Mistress’s office for the same offense. The idea of 12 strokes on her own tender flesh were almost beyond comprehension. Darlene had been spanked as a child – paddlings to get the attention of a very young girl. But even then, her parents had never raised her dress, let alone lowered her panties.

But the Mistress had a different idea about punishment, and Lilah appeared to be familiar with what was coming. The young woman continued to plead for the sanctity of her bottom, but she did not let go of her ankles. Darlene heard Lilah’s ragged breath, as the young woman drew it in, to once again beg for her bottom.

“Enough!” The Mistress stepped forward, brushing Darlene out of the way. She rolled Lilah’s pale blue skirt up, well over the young woman’s back, exposing silky white panties. “I advise you hold onto your ankles, Lilah.” Mistress dragged the young woman’s panties the girl’s to mid-thigh. “Lest you earn extra strokes.”

Despite her own fear of the slipper, Darlene felt sorry Lilah.  Darlene knew that her presence at the spanking intensified her friend’s punishment.  Yet Darlene couldn’t resist gazing at Lilah’s lovely bare bottom.  It was so small. So white. So perfect in its symmetry. Darlene found herself wondering what kind of marks the Mistress’s slipper would leave on that creamy bottom.

Moments later Darlene watched as Mistress drew the slipper back and then whipped it forward and down onto Lilah’s white flesh. The force of the stroke brought an instant scream from Lilah’s lips, and Darlene ecohed that cry with a moan of her own. Darlene was horrified at the force of the strike, and she knew that her own punishment would be much worse.

Spanking Sandra – a fragment


Angela examined Sandra’s bottom with a critical eye. The 20 strokes that she had given her crying girlfriend had resulted in a lovely blush; no single hand print stood out on Sandra’s naked bottom. Instead, the spanks blurred together into a uniform pink of near perfection.

“Up!” Angela said sharply, smacking her girlfriend’s bottom again. “Off to your corner, while I try to sort out the mess that you’ve made.”

Still sobbing, Sandra pushed herself off of Angela’s lap and bent to retrieve her skirt from the floor.

“Leave it,” Angela said, pointing Sandra to her corner. “You won’t need your skirt to think about how you’ve overspent your budget again.”

“But-”

Angela’s glare cut Sandra off in mid-sentence. “Now,” Angela snapped, as she picked up their shared checkbook from the sofa cushion. “I can’t believe what a mess you’ve made of this!”

Sandra snuffled back a sob and hung her head. Her long, blonde hair obscured her pretty, blue eyes. “I’m so sorry,” Sandra said, dragging a toe across the carpet. She sniffed again. “Really. I don’t know how it happened!”

Shaking her head, Angela pointed once again at the corner across the room. “Go,” she said. “Now.”

Sandra walked slowly to the corner, and stood facing the familiar walls for what seemed like the better part of an hour. She sniffled. She sobbed. And she wanted desperately to rub her sore bottom, but Sandra knew that it would only infuriate her girlfriend. Sandra wasn’t allowed to touch her bottom after a sound spanking until Angela gave her permission.

The problem was that Sandra had no mind for numbers and no control when it came to spending money. The skirt that lay rumpled on the floor was the reason the young blonde had been spanked and was now standing in the corner. Short and plaid, the skirt was perfect for showing off Sandra’s her fine legs. She couldn’t resist the purchase, and it seemed such a bargain at only $200.

Sandra sniffed again. The burn in her bottom was finally beginning to fade, and she hoped that Angela would forgive her soon. The corner was becoming all too familiar, and Sandra was worried that someone could pass by and look through the window to see her naked bottom.

Finally, Angela broke her silence. “Sandra,” she said lowly.

The young blonde turned at her name. She had a properly penitent look on her face, though Sandra’s lips were quirked in a smile.

“Yes,” she said, hopefully.

That’s when Sandra saw the hairbrush in Angela’s hand. Fresh tears spilled over her cheeks when she realized what was about to happen.

“Do you want to tell me about the blouse you bought at Macy’s last weekend?”

A Reminder, my dears


I shouldn’t have to say the word out loud, let alone stencil it on my chest to get you to pay attention; but sometimes, my dear, you need a reminder.

Your ass belongs to me. No one else. You do what I say, wear what I tell you to wear. Come when I whistle, and then beg me for more.

When I come home, I expect you to be waiting at the door, head down and ready for whatever I’ve prepared.

I am your Mistress. You are mine. You belong to me.

You have one choice to make today: You may select your implement of punishment. Once you’ve done that, I want you to take off your clothes and lay across my lap.

Remember the count, my pet, lest we begin again.

Tomorrow’s Caning – a fragment


“I’m going to cane you tomorrow.” It was a simple statement, straight-forward and without undue emotion. She sits down beside me on the bed and gently rubs my bottom.

I open my eyes and stretch against her body, twisting until I am on her lap and able to look into her face. I wasn’t easy to get my body over her knees, and the wriggling that I’ve done to get into this position has left my pajamas in disarray; I am exposed from waist to mid-thigh. I am also still foggy with sleep, having just wakened at her touch upon my skin. I remember yet the glow of the evening before, when my bottom was bare and smacked hard. Even now, it feels well-spanked and rosy, a lovely blush that seems to spread across both cheeks, filling me with warmth.

I love looking up at her. Her dark eyes shuttered with long lashes, the curve of her lips in smile, the swell of her cheeks as looks down at me: these things give me peace and contentment. Yet her words seem to hang in the room. But it’s more than just the words – not just the sounds they make as the break through my morning haze. It’s the way she said them.

The words were simple and casual, as though she was announcing a lunch partner, or a trip to the mall.

But that’s not what she said. Rather, it was a pronouncement of a caning.

Tomorrow.

I knew better than to think otherwise. When she said that something would happen, that’s exactly what she meant. No hesitation. No forgotten plans. Tomorrow, I would be caned.

The fog cleared as questions took their place. Which cane would she choose? Would it be the long one, she had inherited from her father, or the rattan she’d recently purchased? How many strokes? How much would it hurt? Would I have to count aloud? Would I be over her knee, or over her desk? Would she cane me before breakfast? Before sleep? How much would it hurt? How much would it hurt? How much would it hurt?

I want to ask her these questions – all these and more. I want the answers to my fears, but realize my greatest fear is that I won’t be brave enough for the caning. That what I fear most of all, because I know that she’s doing this for me.

And yet, I see in her dark eyes, as the lashes flutter to hide and then reveal, that she knows my fears; knows each and every one of them. All of my fears and more. She will gather me and my questions to her breasts, and hold on tight. I’m safe with her. I know this. My questions fade away one by one, as I realize that she’ll never let anything bad happen to me. And knowing that answers all of my questions.

“All right,” I reply. My voice is soft, and I’m not sure I actually say the words.

She licks her lips and smiles down at me. I know that she’s heard me.

I roll over in her lap and close my eyes as she rubs my bottom again.

I shiver with the anticipation of tomorrow.