Alexandru plec pe la ceasurile cinci s-i vad prietenul.

Petru Anicet locuia ntr-o cas veche i mic, la sfritul strzii Mtsari. n fa era o grdin nengrijit, cu o cimea l

egat cu crp

Power (Exchange) Lunch

I wrote this story for a friend. She sent me a very demure email from work. Something along the lines of: Dear Mr. Wintermute, Thank you very much for sharing your expertise yesterday. I agree that we are on the right track in these matters. At the risk of sounding cliche, we really should do lunch! Let me know if I may reciprocate in any way. Best regards, Cynthia In this era of Sarbanes-Oxley archiving requirements, when corporate email may never die and when there may be other eyes reading it, I could not respond that Cynthia could show her appreciation by pulling down her panties and lying across my lap. I wanted to write that "doing lunch" would be wonderful, but that she was a very naughty girl and would be sitting much less comfortably after lunch. With this idea in mind, this story just demanded to be written.

Case had arranged a private dining room in the back of Nuovo Italia. The waitress had just finished clearing away the espresso cups and the cookie plate. He knew that he and Cynthia would not be disturbed. "I always enjoy talking to you on the phone", Case told Cynthia. "After working with you all these months, it's been even more of a pleasure to see you in an informal setting. I hope that you enjoyed lunch?" "Yes, Sir. Lunch was wonderful." "Your work in preparing the pricing portions for the materials section of the nanoscale fabrication facility proposal have been good, Cynthia."

"Thank you, Sir." "I said 'good', but I did not say excellent. You are a woman of intelligence and talent. I would like to think that I've been able to fill the role of mentor in the last few months. Would you say that this is accurate?" "Yes, Sir. I have learned a great deal over the recent months and I have enjoyed the challenges that this work has provided." "You have been challenged, but you have not always risen to the levels that you are capable of Cynthia." "I'm sorry Sir. I hope that you will point out areas where there can be improvement." "I will be happy to do so", Case said as he stood up and crossed to the couch at the back of the room. Case moved the coffee table away from the couch and sat down. "Come over here please", Case said, pointing to his right side. Cynthia walked over and stood by to Case's right. Cynthia gazed down at the rug. She felt for a moment like a school girl who was about to be scolded. She thought back on the work that she had done in the last few months, trying to recall areas that could have been improved. She had to admit that there were a few. Her thoughts were interrupted by Case taking her hand and guiding her across his lap. As if there were nothing unusual about talking to a woman colleague draped over your lap, Case started talking to her about several mistake he had corrected in the section of the proposal Cynthia had written. "Please Sir, I don't think that this is appropriate", Cynthia protested. "I disagree. I think that this is the perfect position in which to discuss how your work can be improved". Cynthia tried to move off his lap but found that she was held firmly by Case's left arm. Case reminded her that there were several references to industry publications where she had only listed the first author and in one case she had made a mistake in the title. There were also values in some of the report tables that had been placed in the wrong columns. "I'll try to be more careful in the future, Sir. Now could you please let me up." "Not yet, my dear Cynthia."

Cynthia felt her skirt being raised. She tried to move again, but Case held her tightly. When Case had pulled Cynthia's skirt up he found that she was wearing a pair of sheer black panties over her garters. He could see her skin through the transparent material and the cleft of her buttocks. Case thought that the bare skin of Cynthia's thighs looked lovely between the tops of her stockings and her panties. She looked like one of John Kacere's paintings. Cynthia felt Case's hand caress her bottom, over the thin material of her panties. "You are a talented young lady, but you need to concentrate on your work", Case said, as he brought the palm of his hand down on her right buttock, then quickly on the left. "I hope that this will help remind you that talent alone is not enough. Attention to detail is also critical", he said as he continued to spank her, alternating cheeks. Cynthia felt, for a brief instant, like she was back in High School being spanked over the knee of the beautiful but strict Sister Catherine. Cynthia cried out when a particularly hard slap landed on the lower curve of her right cheek. The slaps stung and Cynthia's sheer panties provided very little protection from Case's hand as he punished her bottom. Cynthia kicked and squirmed. "Stay still", Case ordered as he spanked the bare skin at the tops of her thighs. That hurt even more and Cynthia obeyed. She hoped that the room was sound proofed because she could hear the slap of Case's hand against her bottom and her cries echoing in the room. The slaps stopped for a moment and she felt Case caress her bottom, stroking the backs of her thighs with the backs of his fingers. His hand moved over the curve of her thigh, down between her legs. Without thinking Cynthia spread her legs. She drew in a breath when she felt him caress her pussy through her thin panties, sliding his finger up over her clit. "You're panties are wet, my dear Cynthia. I might conclude that your mind has been on other things than punishment and repentance. I might conclude that you've not been paying proper attention to your lesson." Cynthia pushed back against Case's hand as he rubbed her clit through the sheer material, her breath coming faster. Case moved his hand away and Cynthia felt him pull her panties down. Her first though was that his hand would return, stroking her clit without her panties in the way. Instead she felt the slap of his hand on her bare cheek and she cried out. The spanking hurt more now without her panties. Soon her cries were echoing in the room again and she was promising to be a good girl, to never make mistakes and to always pay attention to detail.

Cynthia was a little breathless from crying out when the spanking finally stopped. Her bottom felt hot and it hurt. Case moved his arm away from Cynthia's back and let her get stand up. Her skirt fell down over her bottom and her panties fell down to her ankles as she rubbed her sore cheeks. "Step out of your panties", Case ordered, "kneel on the couch and lean against the back". After being spanked like a naughty little girl, Cynthia did not think to argue. She reached down and pushed her panties over her high heels, stepping out of them, leaving them on the floor. Case picked her panties up and put them in his pants pocket. He guided her over the back of the couch, pulling her skirt up and making her spread her thighs. Cynthia leaned into the back of the couch, putting her head down and pushing her bottom up. The spanking had excited her and she thought that now that her spanking was over, Case would take her. Instead, Cynthia watched as he went over to the door where he had left his briefcase. He put the briefcase on the dining table, opened it and took out a long thin paddle made from dark wood. "Please Sir, I'll be a good girl. I will try to pay more attention to detail, I promise. Please don't spank me more. I've learned my lesson." Case caressed Cynthia's thighs, sliding his hand up to her bottom, her skin was blushed a deep pink and warm. "Try, cara mia? It is not 'try', but 'do'." He caressed her bottom with the smooth wood of the paddle, gently patting her cheeks. "I can see that I was right. The lesson you need is not over." He ran the edge of his index finger over her pussy lips, which were swollen and slick with her excitement. Cynthia put her hand down and pushed herself against his hand, rubbing her clit against him. "You need to be spanked, don't you, my love?" "Yes, Sir", she said in a soft high voice. "Say it. Tell me what you need, kitten" She pushed against his hand, harder, faster. "I need to be spanked, Sir." She cried out softly when he moved his hand away from her pussy, his left hand on the small of her back, the paddle in his right hand. The first slap of the paddle across her bottom surprised Cynthia, but she wanted it too. Or maybe she wanted Case's hand back on her pussy, or she wanted him inside her. Cynthia was crying out again as Case paddled her. The paddle hurt and it stung. When she clenched her bottom and squirmed Case gently scolded her: "good

girls stayed still for their punishment." Then, to remind her, he spanked the top of her thighs with the paddle before continuing to spank her bottom. After giving Cynthia a set of strokes, he would stop paddling her and caress her inner thighs and her pussy. When Cynthia was pushing against his hand, her excitement building, he would start spanking her again. She started to get used to this rhythm, so that when the paddle stopped punishing her, she expected to feel his hand on her pussy. Instead she heard Case say "Stay right as you are, cara mia" As Case undressed he admired the way Cynthia looked, her bottom crimson from the spanking he had just given her, her thighs spread, her bottom and pussy exposed. He went to his briefcase and took out and condom and slid it on his hard cock. He moved behind Cynthia, bending at the knees slightly as he guided his cock inside her. She pushed her bottom up, taking him deeper inside her. Case leaned over the couch, bracing himself on one arm, reaching the other around to Cynthia's clit as he thrust into her. Her ass was hot under him and he knew that she would feel it as his thighs pounded into her sore bottom. Cynthia pushed back against him, pushing him deeper, her breath coming hard as her orgasm built and he felt her come. He moved his hand, standing now, holding her waist in his hands, thrusting his cock deeply into her as he came. They lay together afterward on the couch, Cynthia lying on top of Case, catching their breath, as he held her. "I think that this has been a productive lunchtime meeting, Ms. O'Neil? Would you agree?" "Yes, Sir. I have learned a great deal, Sir. I will give my work renewed concentration." "I'm glad to hear that, Ms. O'Neil." "I hope that I will continue to benefit from your instruction, Sir." "We can discuss these issues during future lunches, care mia", Case said. "I can see that you are someone who can bloom in an environment of discipline." "Yes, Sir. I appreciate your instruction" "May I have my panties back, Sir?" Cynthia asked later, as Case was dressing. "You may have them when we get to the car", Case told her. Cynthia retrieved her shoes and put them on, smoothing her skirt down. She got a hair brush out of her purse and brushed her hair. She looked at herself in her compact mirror. Things were back in place. As she followed Case out of the private

room and down the corridor and though the main dining room Cynthia wondered for a moment if people looking at her pass would somehow know that she was not wearing panties, that she had just been spanked like a naughty little girl and had just been fucked hard. July, 2006

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Case Wintermute

A Schoolgirl Spanking

A young woman, dressed as a school girl, getting the cane. Found on the Web.

They were lying in bed, snuggled together after making love. Her bottom was still blushed red, hot and lined with welts from the caning and paddling he had given her before she rode his cock to orgasm. She nuzzled her head into his chest. "Will you cane me like a schoolgirl sometime?" she asked.

"How is a schoolgirl caned?" "She has to bend over. Her headmaster raises her skirt and tucks it up so it will not fall down. Then he pulls her panties down and gives her 'twelve of the best' with the cane, while she counts each stroke. She does not get a warm up spanking and the strokes are given very hard. It hurts a lot, but if she squirms, or misses the count, or gets up she gets extras." "Does our schoolgirl cry?" "Yes, she does" "And what happens after the schoolgirl is punished?" "Well... Maybe the headmaster might finds the sight of her bare welted bottom and her pussy peeking out between her thighs irresistible and he takes her hard from behind." She put her hand down to his cock, which had grown rock hard. "I see that you like naughty schoolgirls." "Especially when they get caned hard." He caressed her pussy with his index finger. The lips of her vulva were slick. "I see that you like cruel headmasters." "Oh yes, I love my headmaster, even though he spanks me very hard." She moved on top of him, sliding his cock inside her. He cupped her buttocks in his hands as she started to move, grinding her mons into him. He started slapping her bottom which was still sore from the spanking he had given her earlier. They came together. The next Saturday he was sitting in the living room reading when she came down from the bedroom carrying the cane and a piece of paper. She was wearing a plaid skirt that come down to her mid thighs, a white blouse and a tie. Her hair was in two braids and she was wearing white socks and saddle shoes. Her full breasts pressed against the white fabric of the shirt, which was unbuttoned to show the top of her white lace bra. "I was told to give this to you, Sir", she told him as she handed him the paper. The note said "This young lady has been repeatedly caught passing notes to boys during class. Please give her twelve of the best, on the bare." He put the note down on the coffee table and stood up. "Passing notes, young lady! Its clear that you need a good hard spanking."

"You're to get twelve of the best, my girl?" "Yes, Sir. I brought the cane, Sir." He took the cane that she offered to him. "Well, we might as well get this over with. Bend over the back of the couch" She bent over the couch, the back of the couch under her hips, her hands resting on the seat cushions. He raised the hem of her skirt, tucking it in the waist band, revealing a pair of white lace string bikini panties, stretched tightly over the round curve of her bottom. "I don't think that these are regulation school knickers, are they?", he said as caressed her bottom beneath the transparent lace. "No, Sir." He pulled her panties down to the middle of her thighs. "Passing notes to boys, wearing slutty little knickers." He moved his hand between her thighs, caressing her pussy. "Do you let boys touch you here? Do you like it a lot?" he asked, rubbing her clit. "Yes, Sir. It feels very good, Sir" "You are a naughty girl. You need a hard spanking, don't you?" "Yes, Sir" "I'm going to add two strokes for wearing those slutty knickers and four strokes for spreading you thighs for boys. And that brings the total to..." "Eighteen strokes, Sir" He moved away from her, standing on her left side. He tapped her bottom with the cane. "Stay in position and do not get up until you're told. You are to count each stroke. If you squirm, miss the count or get up you, will get extras. Are you ready for your spanking?" "Yes, Sir" "Good girl" Raised the cane and brought it down hard across her bare bottom. The cane left a red welt across the top curve of her buttocks.

She drew in a breath sharply as she felt the burn of the cane stroke. "One", she counted He waited ten seconds and gave her the next stroke. "Two" As he caned her the strokes brought a cry before she counted out each stroke. By the time he had given her the first dozen strokes she was crying like a spanked little girl, her sobs mixed with her cries as she took each stroke, counting them out. She was crying hard and did not count the fourteenth stroke. "What number was that?" he asked "Fourteen, Sir", she said between sobs. "And what happens when you miss the count?" "I get extras, Sir" she said in a small voice. "Good girl. I'm going to give you that stroke over and add an extra stroke." He brought the cane down hard across the bottom of her buttocks, near the crease of her thighs. She cried out and counted "fourteen". He gave her the next stroke across the center of her bottom and the following one across the tops of her thighs. She squirmed. He caressed her welted cheeks. "Such a naughty girl. Missing the count and squirming. I'm going to have to give you the last stroke over and add another punishment stroke." He gave her another stroke and she counted "sixteen". She stayed still and took the next two strokes, counting them out as she cried. He let her catch her breath as he caressed her welted bottom. "And we have how many punishment strokes?", he asked her. "Two, Sir" "And how are punishment strokes given?" "Extra hard, Sir."

He slipped his hand between her thighs caressing her. "Good girl. That's right. You don't have to count these, but I want you to thank me for each one." She sobbed "Thank you, Sir" as she took the next two strokes. She heard the rustle of his clothes as she lay crying over the back of the couch. She stood up and saw that he had taken off his pants and underwear. His cock was standing out, erect and hard. "Did I give you permission to get up?" he asked severely "No, Sir. I'm sorry, Sir", she said as she bent over again. He slipped her panties down her legs and she stepped out of them. She spread her thighs as he moved his hand between them, caressing her. She slowly stopped crying as the pleasure of his caresses on her bottom and her clit replaced the burning pain of the cane. He spread her pussy lips, opening her for his cock. Her lips were slick with arousal. Holding her from behind, he slipped into her, thrusting in and out of her slowly. She arched her bottom up, pushing back, taking him deeper, starting to move against him. "Stay still", he ordered. He fucked her slower for another couple of minutes and then withdrew. "I want you to ask me to give you another four strokes for being a naughty girl and getting up before I gave you permission." The caning had hurt so much and she dreaded the thought of four more strokes. "May I please have another four strokes for getting up before you gave me permission Sir?", she asked softly, her voice catching on "four strokes". He picked up the cane. "Yes, you may." He tapped her bottom with the cane. "Now get that bottom up high", he ordered. She arched her bottom upward. He thought that she looked beautiful, her lovely ass, lined with cane welts, offered for the punishment, her pussy offered to his cock. He gave her four cane strokes, hard and slow. She was crying again after the first stroke. She was still crying as he entered her again, his strokes harder and faster this time, thrusting into her deeply, pushing her against the couch. As he took her he could feel her hot welted buttocks under his loins. She moved her left hand under her, rubbing her clit, bracing herself with her right arm. It felt so good as he pushed into her, but it hurt too, as he slammed hard against her sore welted ass. The itch of orgasm started to build up in her as she pressed against her clit with her fingers.

She pushed her ass up more, taking him a little deeper inside her, the pain fading from her buttocks and thighs. He come and she followed a few seconds later. She lay limp over the back of the couch, the pain from the cane welts returning. "That's what happens to naughty schoolgirls who pass notes" he told her. September, 2004

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Case Wintermute

A Daddy and his Girl

Once upon a time, in the land of never was, a place where big girls are sometimes little girls and their lovers are their Daddies, there was a girl and her Daddy. The girl loved her Daddy whole bunches and knew that she was his bestest girl. She thought that her Daddy was the best Daddy and she loved him whole bunches. Although most people would have said that Daddy spoiled his girl shamelessly, they would also have to admit that she was very well behaved. Or at least they would have said that if they had not witnessed some of her tantrums or misbehaivor. It was on these occasions that Daddy gave his girl spankings, on her bare bottom. She had patiently tried to explain to Daddy that she was much too old for spankings and way, way too old for bare bottom spankings. But the girl's arguments had no effect on her Daddy. The girl thought that she was very noble and forgiving to still love Daddy bunches and bunches, even when he cruelly spanked her and made her cry. When the girl had one of her bad days and bed time came around, Daddy would tell his girl that it was time for bed and to get ready for a spanking. Then the girl would once again consider whether her most reasonable argument about being too old for spankings and way, way too old for bare bottom spankings might succeed this time. The last time she had presented this most reasonable of arguments, Daddy had pulled her over his knee, raised her skirt, pulled down her skimpy little string bikini panties and spanked her until she agreed that she was not too old for bare bottom spankings. And then (can you believe this?) her mean old Daddy sent her to her room and gave her another spanking. With this previous experience in mind, the girl just pouted and trudged off to her room, thinking about how unfair Daddy was. Why couldn't her Daddy take the

advice of those nice psychologists and give her a good talking to, rather than a good hard spanking? Although she never, ever would have admitted it, when she knew she had been naughty it made her feel kinda sorta bad. After she had taken her spanking she would feel like a good girl again. She just wished there was some way to feel like a good girl again without having her bare bottom paddled over Daddy's knee. One warm summer day the girl was bored. Daddy was working, doing boring things on the computer, and none of her friends could come over and play. She did not feel like reading and Daddy was very strict about her television watching, so she could not watch TV. The girl was bored, bored, bored. So she thought that she would go walking in the in the woods. After walking for about ten minutes she came to a road near her house, which was cut into a wooded hill. She could sit at the top of the cut and look down on the cars as they went by below. At the bottom of the cut there was a "Beware Falling Rock" sign. Watching the cars go by was OK for a while, but the girl was still bored, bored, bored. The girl looked down at the sign. Since the sign already said "Beware Falling Rock" it somehow seemed OK to throw dirt clods and old rotten pieces of sandstone down on the road. This was really fun. The dirt clods and soft stone expolded when they hit, scattering pieces all over the road. The girl did this for a while until her tummy started talking to her. Her tummy told her that it was time for lunch, which is what her Winnie-the-Pooh watch also said. So she went skipping home to have lunch with Daddy. When Daddy asked her how she had spent the morning she said that she had been walking in the woods, which was true, of course, but not the whole story. Girls who lied to their beloved Daddy's deserved spankings. All Daddy really needed to know was "the big picture" she was sure. That afternoon the girl had to do some work too, so she went to the library in their house. The library had dark book cases that went all the way to the ceiling and a table with two desk lights where the girl could study. "Who were these two guys Percival and Walden?" she asked herself. "What a dusty old book. How come they couldn't write something fun?" And her mind wondered off to how she had spent the morning. It had been fun throwing the dirt clods and rocks down onto the road and watching them smash. Then other thoughts started to creep into this image. She imagined a car hitting a rock and getting all dented up. "Or", she thought, "what if the car swirved and hit an a car coming toward it?" These thoughts were not very fun and the girl started to feel like a very naughty girl. She knew that she was Daddy's bestest girl and that Daddy loved her. Daddy could make it all better. That evening the girl and her Daddy had a salad and some chicken in a white wine sause. Daddy always cooked good stuff for his bestest girl. And they talked about

the dusty old book she was reading and Daddy told her stories about an old dead Russian who had a funny name - Kolmogorov. The girl always loved Daddy's stories and she felt sorry for the man with the funny name who was very scared of another really horrible man named Stalin. After she had washed the dishes the girl went to where her Daddy was reading in the living room. She sort of shuffled into the room, looking down at her toes, so Daddy knew that something was up. "Daddy..." the girl said, her voice trailing off "Yes" said Daddy "I feel bad Daddy" the girl said "Do you have a stomach ache?" asked Daddy "No, not that kind of bad", she said as she kicked at the carpet. "I feel bad because of something I did", she said, looking down at the carpet and suddently discovering that it had a fascinating design. "Well then maybe you need a spanking to make it all better. What do you think?" Daddy asked. The girl hated those "what do you think" questions. She knew that she needed a spanking, but the problem with spankings was they hurt. A lot. But after a spanking should would feel all be better. Maybe Daddy would just give her a little spanking that would make her feel better but not hurt too much. So she said "Hmm, well, maybe I do need a spankin'" "Ok, honey" Daddy said. "I want you to go to your room and get ready for bed. I'll be up in a few minutes and you can tell me about what happened and we'll make it all better." "Yes, Sir" said the girl. The girl brushed her teeth (and flossed, Daddy's like flossing), washed her face and undressed to her panties. They were little white cotton string bikini panties, with little blue flowers on them. She put on a white cotton shortie nighty and sat down on the bed to wait. As she waited for Daddy she started to think about how much a spanking for throwing rocks and dirt on the road would hurt. Maybe she should make up a story about something that was not as naughty. Then she would still get a spanking, but it would not hurt as much. But that would mean lying to Daddy and lying was really, really naughty. And if she fibbed she get a spanking, but she would still feel bad for fibbing. So she resolved to tell Daddy the truth and take her spanking, even though it would hurt a lot.

Although she was probably only waited ten minutes or so, it seemed to the girl that she was waiting for hours and hours thinking about the spanking she had coming. Finally she heard Daddy's footsteps on the stairs. When her Daddy came into the room, he found his girl sitting on the bed staring at a spot on the floor. Daddy got the ruler paddle and sat down next to his Girl. Daddy put her over his knee and pulled up her nighty. Daddy's girl was now very sorry that she had brought up the topic of being naughty. "I'm going to give you a warm-up spanking over your panties", Daddy told his girl. The paddle smacked down across the seat of the Girl's flowered panties. It hurt, lots and she wished that she had worn thicker panties. After Daddy gave her twenty strokes with the ruler paddle he told her to pull her panties down. She got up. She hated having to bare her bottom for punishment, but she knew that the alternative was to get spanked on her thighs until she cooperated. So she pulled her panties down to her knees and returned to her position over Daddy's knee. Daddy caressed her bare bottom. "Ok, honey" Daddy told him "I want you to tell me what happened". Lying bare bottom over Daddy's lap with her panties bunched up around her knees, it was hard to think of anything else but the hard spanking that would follow her confession. But she had passed the point of no return, so she told Daddy about throwing the rocks and dirt down on the road. And she told him that she did not think about what could have happened until later. And that she felt really, really bad about it and she would never, ever in a million-billion years do it again (she threw in that last part on the unlikely chance that Daddy would conclude that she did not need a spanking). "I'm proud of you for telling me, Honey", Daddy told her. "You were a very bad girl. It's good that nothing bad happened, but you're right, it could have. I think that this is a case where a spanking is definitely in order." "Please don't spank me too hard Daddy" said the now very repentant girl. "I'll never, ever do it again. I've learned by lesson." "I'm afraid that a hard spanking is exactly what you need, honey" Daddy told her. "No lets get this over with." The girl felt Daddy caress her bare bottom with the smooth wood of the ruler paddle and then felt it smack hard across her bare bottom. Daddy gave her another twenty strokes, each stroke punctuated by an "Ouch" from the bare bottomed girl. When Daddy was done paddling her her bottom was red and she wished that she had been studying her dusty old book that morning instead of throwing rocks.

"OK, you can get up now" Daddy told her. She had kicked her panties down around her ankles and she stepped out of them leaving them on the floor. Daddy piled the pillows in the middle of the bed. "Over the pillows, Honey" Daddy told her. She knelt in the middle of the bed and bent over the pillows, her head resting on the bed, her thighs at a right angle to the bed, her body forming a triangle with her red bottom at the apex. Her thighs where slightly spread and she felt totally exposed. She could hear Daddy go to the closet where he got the cane. Daddy stood on her left side and tapped her bottom with the cane, measuring his storke. The girl started crying softly. "I'm sorry I was a bad girl Daddy" she said, hoping that her obvious repentance would mean fewer strokes with the cane. "I know, honey. But you need to learn your lesson. Now I want you to be a good girl and stay in position for Daddy so you don't have to have extra strokes" "Yes, Sir" the girl said, her voice catching as she cried. The cane whistled through the air and burned across her upraised bottom and she cried out. Her Daddy gave her twenty strokes with the cane across her bottom and the tops of her thighs. She was crying hard when he finished, her bottom and thights lined with welts. Her Daddy left her in position, her nighty pooled around her shoulders. Daddy stroked her hair and her bare back. He let her catch her breath, caressing the hot skin on her bottom, tracing the welts across her buttocks. The second set of twenty strokes seemed to hurt even more and the girl was sobbing and promising to be a good girl as her Daddy caned her. Although the caning hurt lots and lots, she no longer felt bad about what she had done. She knew that her Daddy loved her and that she was getting the spanking she deserved. A hard caning and a sore bottom made the girl very conscious of not doing anything that would result in "extras", so she did not get up until Daddy told her to. She watched as Daddy put away the cane and got the paddle and the bath brush. The paddle was sort of like a ping-pong paddle but thicker and made out of heavy wood called "purpleheart". She had gotten it specially made for Daddy to show that she would always be his good girl. "Take off your nighty, honey", Daddy told her before putting the naked girl over his knee. Daddy started spanking her with the paddle, alternating cheeks, with a quick one-two beat, then a pause, as she cried. The paddle on her sore welted buttocks hurt so much and she promised herself that she would never, ever be a bad girl again. Finally when Daddy had given her twenty strokes on each cheek he stopped to let her catch her breath, caressing her bottom. His hand felt so good after the hard spanking.

"Almost over honey" Daddy told her. "I'm going to spank you with the bath brush. It's going to hurt a lot, but then it will all be over and you won't have to feel bad about being a naughty girl". The girl hated the mean old bath brush because it hurt so much. Once, after sobbing as the cruel brush punished her crimson bottom she had thought of arranging an accident for the brush, breaking its handle or seeing to it that it got lost. But she knew that she was very bad at keeping secrets from Daddy and that the demise of the brush would lead to questions about its fate, a hard spanking and an order to the Vermont Country Store for another bath brush. As Daddy promised, the paddling with the bath brush hurt a lot. The girl no longer made little kicks with her feet but lay limp over Daddy's lap, sobbing as he spanked her with the bath brush, first on one buttock then the other. Finally when the mean old brush had smacked her bottom twenty times on each side her spanking was over. Daddy took the sobbing girl in his arms and held her. He petted her and told her he loved her and that she was a good girl until she stopped crying. That night she went to bed with a very sore bottom but a light heart knowing that Daddy loved her and that she was a good girl again. The girl and her Daddy lived happily ever after. Her Daddy never did listen to those nice psychologists and continued to believe that the best way to deal with a naughty girl was to spank her on her bare bottom. So he continued to give his girl bare bottom spanking when ever she needed them (which turned out to be often) and they lived happily ever after.

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Case Wintermute The Lie By Sarah Thorne

As she stood there, now facing that dreaded corner, so many thoughts, emotions ran through her mind. Standing totally bare and vulnerable, her defense of clothing removed almost immediately upon entering the house. He did stand before her after having her remove it all herself while he watched, his eyes unreadable, expression one of sad determination. She didn't know why, but that had frightened her, even though she trusted this man implicitly. No emotion that she could read. He never said a word to her, just turned her away from him and walked her to a corner, taking her arms and clasping them behind her back. She began to tremble slightly, not knowing fully what was in store for her and partially not wishing to find out, yet another part of her did wish it, as she knew very well that it was not only deserved but necessary, What had she been thinking? Was this worth what she was about to endure? The answer in her mind was 'yes'. It was worth it, he was worth it. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"What did you say?" the look on his face was one of disbelief and shock. It wasn't that he didn't know what she had said but wanted her to repeat it, more as a confirmation that this was not a dream and that his world was about to come crashing down. At least the part of his world that involved her. Standing before him, trembling nervously, she repeated her confession once more. For what seemed an eternity, there was silence. She dared not to look up at him, her eyes already filling with tears....tears of her shame. She feared what she would see there. Anger, yes, for sure. The anger wasn't what she feared. No, she feared the hurt, betrayal realized and worst of all, hatred. She couldn't bare that, yet knew it was well deserved and would not blame him one bit. Thoughts of how she had even allowed this to grow to the level it did permeated her thoughts. It was not intended to happen, at least not in the beginning. She had never in her wildest imaginings thought that she would end up here, with the feelings she had for him. Once those feelings were realized she should have told him then, but she didn't. Out of selfishness, knowing he would reject her because of it. And that was his right to do, yet it was she who denied him his own choice, instead making the decision for him based on what she wanted. It had become too heavy to carry around. She had foolishly allowed it to get this far. As much as she hated the thought of causing him any pain, she knew he deserved the truth, even if it meant she would lose him completely. Never in her life had she deliberately and blatantly deceived someone-not to this serious of a degree. White lies at times, yes, but never anything major. Not anything that would cause pain like this. She really was a very honest and moral person who had made a bad decision. A very bad decision. So why...why did she do this? It was pure selfishness. She had fallen for him never expecting to and then...she wanted him. Their thoughts and personalities seemingly so well matched. And for once in her life, she wanted to throw out her inhibitions and be a bit reckless. Reckless by her normally pure standards. The longer time went on, the more it had bothered her, even though it was entirely possible that he would never know the truth through any other means. Yet, she had remained silent. It was wrong. She knew it then and she knew it now. He shifted slightly and she dared a glance to meet his eyes. She couldn't quite decipher the look, her own eyes seeking some sort of understanding, although she knew there would be none. Wishing that he would at least yell, shout, throw something, but he didn't. He just stood there. Were the roles reversed, she knew what she would do. Time stood still as they stood there across from one another, until she took the initiative and cautiously approached him, her arms slipping around his waist, head on his chest. "I am so very sorry," she whispered tearfully. As expected, he did not hug her back. Instead his hands unwrapped her from her solitary hug and moved her back away from him. His look one of distrust before he turned and left the room without speaking. Left there standing alone, she didn't know what to do next. Follow him? Pack up and leave? In the end she opted for the latter. She called a cab and got her things together, walking out without saying good-bye, waiting on the porch until her taxi arrived. As the car backed out of the drive, she noticed the faint image of someone watching through the sheer curtains of the front window. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ She did what she could to make herself unavailable. Already having had plans to move from one

apartment to another beforehand, she now had a different phone number and deliberately changed her e mail address, also removing her name from all of the forums they both frequented on a regular basis. She felt so unworthy, spiraling into a sadness that overwhelmed her spirit. Not so much for the relationship lost, although that was part of it, but for what she had done, what she felt it made her. It did disturb her tremendously that he would think her a dishonest and deceitful person when deep down she really wasn't. Or was she? Had this changed who she really was or just who she was to him? Or to herself? She had done this to herself. She knew this. There was nothing she could do to take it back. Now to focus on going on and rebuilding once again. Caught by complete surprise one day to open her e-mail and see his address there. How had he found her? What did he want? It had been months. Her palms sweaty, she was afraid to open it, considered deleting it without reading. No, whatever he had to say, she should have to see. After all, whatever it was she deserved it. Deserved to be told off, cussed out, spanked even. Oh yes, as much as she hated punishment, she deserved it richly, and an intense one at that. She clicked on the letter and saw just one sentence, Just wondering how you are doing. So simple, yet the implication brought tears to her eyes. Not only had he actually taken the time to convey his concern, but he had gone through some obvious searching to find her. She took a few days to respond, not sure if she should but wanting so very much to accept his reaching out to her. Her heart had leapt upon seeing his name in her inbox. But what would come from it? Would he really want to continue on, even on a platonic level? Was it even possible? She did answer, ever so briefly. She said she was good, her schooling now finished, her career plans now set in motion and how was he doing? Then lastly, she added, "I am so very sorry." He did respond, to her amazement, a bit in detail actually. Her emotions confused, she waited once more before she responded. His next e-mail short, You've changed your number. Call me. And she picked up the phone right then, fingers trembling as she dialed, voice quivering when he answered. "I miss you," the very first thing he said to her. Then came the hard question, "Why?" ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ In a taxi once more, headed across town, destined for the place that she had left prematurely a few months before, leaving behind unfinished business in the wake. The best thing probably at that point in time, still not sure if it was or not but nothing could change that now. A meeting first at a local coffee shop, this time her fate a bit more clear, determined. She had agreed to a punishment, terms not spelled out clearly. Punishment, true punishment, was something they had both shook their heads at in the beginning, thinking it had no place in a relationship of equals. But now, it seemed appropriate given the circumstances. She could have said no, however, it was she who had suggested it. He had seemed reluctant, yet she felt this her penance. Her offering to him. She knew she deserved it, that he deserved it even if it didn't bring them back to the path that they were once on before. And she did trust him, very much so. Of course, she had no doubt that it would be intense, even painful, but in a cleansing way, for the guilt racked her terribly. Possibly therapeutic for him as well, also in a cleansing way. Certainly, it would not restore trust lost nor take away the fact that she had lied about something so detrimental.

He was there at the coffee shop, partially to her relief. They embraced briefly, his eyes soft, a bit sad, as were hers. Yet he smiled slightly, warming her own heart. No words spoken, just taking her arm and leading her toward his car parked just down the street. She remembered thinking, "Such a beautiful day," as the sun was shining brightly, birds chirping happily in song, the people around seeming so carefree, even as she trembled in trepidation at what she knew was a very short time away. And now, in the corner, stripped of her physical illusion of defense. It seemed forever that she stood there, nosed to the wall like a shameful child. In reality, it was probably about 10 minutes or so. Was this worth it? Yet, as she thought back to before he knew the truth...the way he looked at her, the way she fit so well in his arms, the way they made eachother laugh and smile, she knew that yes, if she could get even a fraction of that back then it would be worth it. This was the easy part. The hard part would be the re-earning of trust, of his heart. That is, if he still wanted her. She heard her name softly spoken behind her with an order to turn around. Slowly she did so, turning, looking at him standing there, behind the couch, the lower half of him blocked by it. Had she seen what was in his hand she may have run....run far away, changed her mind. She stood, unable to meet his eyes, keeping them glued to the floor that she so desperately wished to fall through right about now. He whispered, "Come here." and her feet moved on their own, without thought, around the side of the couch to the back, toward her fate. The most unbearable part knowing the hurt, anger and disappointment her actions had caused him. As she made her way to where he was standing, she caught a glimpse of what was in his hand and froze, eyes growing wide, body quivering even more noticeably now. Eyes spilling over, she lifted them to meet his pleadingly, shaking her head back and forth in a silent appeal. He stared right through her, unmoved. She knew that he knew the effect seeing a leather strap in his hand had on her. He knew the fear it held for her and why. She most certainly associated that implement with punishment. Unrelenting, however, he reached with his free hand and pulled her closer, turning her around to face the back of the couch, gentle pressure bending her over the back of it. She bent as if in a dream, unbelieving that this was actually happening to her, with him. She thought she was done with that awful thing when she escaped her uncle's house at seventeen. A question, "Do you know why you are being punished?" She suddenly felt she had no strength to answer, so frozen was she. I could still get up and go, she thought to herself. But she needed to follow through, for deep down she did want to be cleansed. She trusted him, yes she did. He was not her uncle. He waited patiently for her barely audible, "Yes sir." Then he said, "Tell me why." in a quiet voice. She nearly choked on the tears that were already silently falling. He knew why. Why did she have to say it yet again? "Please don't make me..." Again, "Tell me why you are about to receive this punishment." No mercy, he wanted her to say it, to understand fully to the very end. He could tell mentally that she was struggling immensely with not only the whole situation, but with being so very exposed and vulnerable under more dire terms than previously. He was proud of her for giving herself over to him in this way, not knowing what was in store, yet trusting him enough to do so in spite of the fact that he had been

angry, wounded by her. He had already forgiven her to a point, understanding why she did what she did while not excusing it. More hurt that she had not trusted him enough to feel that she had to lie. Her soft, childlike voice cutting through his thoughts, "I am being punished because...because...." stopping, gathering herself together, or trying to at least, tearfully saying, "Please, I can't..." He suddenly desired to comfort her, yet refrained. That would come later, after, as it would be more appropriate then. "Yes, you can and will," he told her. She sobbed silently. Being upturned over the back of that couch, made to confess again to what she'd done, this was the worst yet. She still had yet to be spanked and the tears were already flowing. There was nothing for her to grasp on to. She felt so incredibly helpless and revealed, not only physically but psychologically as well. All defenses gone when with him, he knew her so well. And being on display, even if for only him alone, cut right through her, his unspoken words piercing through her heart and knowing that he held her most feared implement in his hand, ready to use it on her bare bottom...it was just too overwhelming. Nowhere to hide, nowhere to run, she thought to herself. She had to remind herself that this was a good thing, to not be able to hide. Facing was healthy, yes. Fulfilling when done with someone who truly cared about her well being "I am waiting," he said, voice cutting through the thick silence. "I want you to tell me why you are about to be spanked. I can wait all day if need be." She took deep breaths, attempting once more to compose herself. This was certainly one position she did not desire to be in all day! This was the absolute worst part....now, to get through it. "Because...because I was not truthful," she managed. "I was dishonest. I deceived you and it was wrong. Very wrong and I am sorry from the bottom of my heart." He said nothing, sensing that she was not finished. He was right. Her volume lower now, "Thank you for giving me this...this chance, for allowing me to be here, for even considering forgiveness. Thank you for not hating me." Hate her! That surprised him, yet he still said nothing. This was not time for his words, not in that context. Right now he had to be disciplinarian. He did say, however, "You know how disappointed I am in you for what you did?" Knowing that penetrated her more than anything else that could or would be done today. She could only manage a nod at that. "I am spanking you because I care about you," another sob of unworth escaped her. "As much as I do not want to do this, it is needed. You know this or you would not have suggested it. And I know this too." His voice turning tender. "I do care very much about you, sweetie." A warm hand stroking her nowunblemished bottom, knowing soon it would be full of angry, red stripes. "Are you ready?" he asked almost regretfully. No, she would never be ready but nodded anyway, jerking when the first stroke landed, loud, so very loud in her ears as that line of fire burned through her flesh. Again and again it landed on her defenseless, raised fanny as she shoved her hands between the cushions to keep from reaching back to stop the already searing pain. Each strike jolting her, branding her, the pain running a line from her bottom straight to her heart. Again, she began to sob for what she had done to him more than because of the fire she was feeling in her backside.

She thought the minutes hours as he continued then stopped before rubbing her tender, flaming backside with his hands. He pulled her to stand immediately, holding her against his chest while she cried, her laments speaking volumes of her sorrow and guilt. It wasn't better, not totally, and he didn't want to comfort her by telling her that it was. To be completely right would take much time to work through. This was merely a start. For now, he just simply held her in his arms.