Elizabeth’s First Spanking

Elizabeth’s First Spanking

The background for this story is entirely true. The spanking portion, sadly, is entirely a figment of my imagination. Names have been altered.


Gently grasping her arm and leading her to my side, I instruct her to bend over my lap. Settling her, her bottom over my right knee, I place her hairbrush next to me and lock my arm around her back. Running my hand over her firm cheeks, I feel her warmth against me, “Are you ready, Elizabeth?”

I hear her gulp, and softly respond, “Yes.”

It was the summer of 2001, I had just graduated highschool, and I was living on my own for the second summer, working for the school I was now no longer a student at.

A brief aside for some history. I attended a boarding school during the week and returned home most weekends. during junior year, I self-assumed, during my study period, the duties of keeping the computers for the academic department operational (because stuff was breaking, and the administrator doing “IT duty” was swamped with other work). Eventually, the school hired a fulltime network administrator who hired me to work with him because, in his own words, “It was either that or none of the staff would ever come to me with their problems.” The following summer he was able to secure me a full time internship that included an on-campus apartment (a living room that doubled as a kitchen/dining area and a bedroom, but it was all mine!). Most kids, at 17, probably would’ve managed to get into some sort of trouble. Not me. Sheesh, I was boring backthen. Fine, I still am. Anyway.

Back to the present. of the story at least.

Elizabeth and I met when I was a newbie to the school. I had started midway through eighth grade and we bonded one study hall, in the library, over a mutual liking of Star Trek, music, and grand hatred of all things tuna fish. Elizabeth was 2 years older than me, 5’11”,, B-cup breasts, athletic, long dark brown hair that, until that unfortunate day her senior year (which I still chalk up to temporary insanity) she cut to about 4″ below her shoulders, fell almost to her bottom. We danced around each other for years, never actually connecting on a romantic level until almost the end of my senior year, when she was already off to college. She lived about three minutes from the school though, so once she was back I spent every moment I could away from campus and with her and her family. (I didn’t get along with the boys I shared a dorm with, being nothing approaching a jock, and I had finally come to the realization that the girls were all drama queens who only liked me for my ability to do their homework.)

On the night in question, Elizabeth and I were slightly dressed up from usual casual summer atire since we had been speaking to a group of summer school students about college and preparing to get there. I forget what I was wearing, but she had on a short-sleeved white t-shirt, an ankle length denim jumper, white knee socks, and black shoes (she was an incredibly conservative dresser).

She had recently casually mentioned to me that her mom had given her a quick spanking shortly after she got home from college. Nothing much, just a couple of quick swats on the bottom with a wooden spoon, that gave its life in the process, for smarting off during an argument one morning, but it was enough to plant a seed in my head… and apparently hers, for as we sat cuddling on my couch, I brought up the fact that she had seemed quite distracted all night.

“I’m fine. Just feeling a bit… off.”

Running my fingers through her hair, I kissed her temple, “It happens, but if you want to talk about it, you might feel better.”

“I guess I’m feeling a little guilty about smarting off to my Mom. She asked me to do some work around the house since I wasn’t doing anything that day, and I just didn’t feel like it, but… I don’t know… she smacked me with the spoon for it, but… ah, it’s nothing. Really.” She stands, grabbing my hand, “come on. Let’s go get a float at A&W or something.”

Reaching out, grasping her wrist with my free hand, pulling her toward me, sliding my arm up around her waist, pulling her down to my lap, I gave her a stern look, “How many times do we need to discuss the fact that if something is on your mind, you can tell me?”

“I know, but, but it’s really silly. Something from my childhood. It doesn’t matter.”

I wasn’t actually sure I knew where this was headed, but I felt (if I am truthful, I just hoped) I might have an idea. so, in my time-honored way of dealing with what might be an emotional situation, I made a joke of it, giving her an opportunity to back out, “Elizabeth Anne. Your mother may have broken her wooden spoon on your bottom, but I assure you mine is still in tact. Now talk.”

Her head falls to my shoulder, a blush creeping up her cheeks, “oh, geez. See…that’s…that’s the thing. It’s like, we were having a stupid argument that reminded me of when I was a kid, and she… well, she spanked me like she would have back then. Only, we both knew we were being stupid, and her spanking, it was nothing, it wasn’t meant to be, but I still feel guilty and I wish she had really ment it and I feel like I deserve some kind of punishment for feeling lazy and smarting off and I can’t believe I’m telling you this and…”

I quickly place a finger over her lips to silence her, kissing her cheek to let her know I’m not bothered, “Woah, there. Put the breaks on for a sec. You’re telling me you feel like you deserve to get the kind of spanking you got when you were a kid?”

“See! I told you you’d think I’m dumb,” she starts to squirm out of my grasp.

For the second time that evening, and i’m beginning to fear it will not be the last, I invoke the middle name, “Elizabeth Anne, I said nothing of the sort. I’m asking for you to clarify your statement so I can make sure you said what I believe I heard.”

After a few moments of nervous silence, she tentitively nods her head, “Yes. I said I feel like I should get a spanking that means something for my behavior, but I can’t. There’s no way I can go to Mom and ask for it. She’d think I’m nuts.”

I pause, gathering the courage to say it, “Perhaps, bbut… there’s nothing saying I can’t do it in her place.”

She giggles nervously, “right, you’d spank me?”

“well, you feel like you deserve one. You feel like you can’t get one from your parents. Unless you’d like to ask Bekah (her long time friend)…”

A vement shake of the head, “No. Really… that’s all right,” she pulls away, this time I let her stand, and begin pacing. After several moments she appears to come to a decision. Quickly, as if fearing she will lose her nerve, she grabs her purse and tosses something in my lap. I lift the object, running my fingers over the smooth polished wood of an old-fashioned heavy wooden hairbrush.

Examining it carefully, I smile, “Wow, this is some hairbrush.”

“Yes, it’s been in the family for a while. Mom used it on us as kids, her Mom used it on her.”

“Does she know you have it?” i wonder if a punishment for ‘stealing’ will also be in order.

“Yes, she gave it to me a few years ago. Once she felt Kelly and Aimee were to old for a spanking.”

“I don’t know how your Mom did it, but I have my own thoughts on how your punishment will go. I want to make it clear that you will end up with your bottom completely bared, and you will be crying by the end of it. If you’ve changed your mind about me doing this, please say so now and we can forget about the conversation.”

?She softly, hesitantly, whispers, “N–no. I understand,” with slightly more confidence, “You’ve thought about this… Haven’t you?”

“Honestly, yes. I believe that there’s nothing wrong with a good spanking, even between adults, if it is felt an appropriate way to correct undesired behavior. Especially when that behavior involves acting like a petulant child.”

Chastized, she again lowers her head, “Yes, Sir.”

“That jumper is entirely too long. Please remove it and fold it over one of the chairs at the kitchen table.”

After a few moments hesitation, in which she seems to be struggling with her thoughts, her hands slowly move to her shoulders. Slipping her arms from the jumper, she slowly lets it fall down her body, where it pools at her feet. Stepping out of the pile of denim, she lifts the dres, folding it carefully, and places it over the back of a chair.

“Very good. Now come here.”

Hands clasped in front of her modestly, she stands in front of me. I reach up and tap her fingers, “Hands at your sides. There’s no need to cover yourself,” she meekly complies, pulling her hands apart, her fingers nervously playing with the hem of her t-shirt.

My eyes quickly roam over her body. I smile at her white cotton bikini cut panties and knee socks, “Quite appropriate I believe. Wearing knee socks like a little girl, considering you’re about to go over my lap like one.”

She blushes again, her cheeks growing a shade I intend to make her bottom match, “Yes, Sir.”

“Elizabeth Anne, do you know why you’re being punished?”

“Yes, Sir. I was extremely lazy, didn’t want to help with household chores, and I sassed my Mom.”

“Good girl. Hopefully this punishment will help you remember to respect your mother when she asks for your help. Also, I warn you, if you don’t start watching your mouth, next time you will be tasting a bar of soap prior to your spanking.”

“Uh…Y-yes, S-sir.”

“Good. Turn around.” She turns, revealing her tight bottom. I reach forward, hooking my fingers into the waistband of her panties, slowly sliding them to her knees, and then to her ankles. Instructing her to lift each foot, I remove the garment, placing it on the couch beside me.

Gently grasping her arm and leading her to my side, I instruct her to bend over my lap. Settling her, her bottom over my right knee, I place her hairbrush next to me and lock my arm around her back. Running my hand over her firm cheeks, I feel her warmth against me, “Are you ready, Elizabeth?”

I hear her gulp, and softly respond, “Yes.”

Raising my hand, I begin peppering her bottom with rapid, sharp swats, “Your behavior was unacceptable. You are twenty years old. You should not be putting up a fight and sassing your mother when she asks you to help out around the house.” I continue spanking, my swats growing harder as the scolding continues,”She works hard, and while you are on summer break, you should be willing to help keep up with the household chores, and your younger sisters.”

“Owww! OUCH! AHHH! OWWWW. Y-Y-ess, S-sir,” she gasps out between small yelps of startlement.

I notice her bottom beginning to grow pink, and make sure to cover her cheeks and sit spots thoroughly, “I expect you to behave like a proper young lady. If you don’t, if you continue to exhibit behaviors that remind me of a child, I will be bringing you back here for a repeat performance of this punishment.”

“Oww. OWWW. Ohhhhh! I’ll behave.”

Pausing, I pick up the brush and begin tapping it against her bottom.

“Oh, Tony. Um, Please. I’ve reconsidered. I think the hand spanking has been enough.”

Smiling to myself, “Well, I suppose it’s a good thing I’m the one in charge of your punishment then, not you, eh?”

She merely whimpers, quickly yelping out as I apply the first stinging swat to her right cheek. Getting into a rythym, I quickly apply sharp swats to each cheek, and each thigh in succession.

SWAT SWAT SWAT SWAT SWAT SWAT SWAT SWAT SWAT SWAT SWAT SWAT SWAT SWAT SWAT SWAT

“Oww! OUCH! OWWWW! STOP! OWWW! I’m Sorry! I’ll be good! OWWWW!” she exclaims as I continue to punish her bottom, her cheeks growing from pink to red.

As I continue, she begins squirming, trying to wriggle free, her hands slipping back to cover her backside. Grasping her wrists with my left hand, I pin them to her back, “Oh, no, little girl. No covering. Next time that will earn you an extra punishment.”

As I continue, she begins crying. Sobbing freely, as she lays, effectively restrained, across my lap. Her feet occasionally kick the floor as she reacts to the pain.

After several long minutes of hard spanking, I slowly decrease the frequency of the hairbrush swats. Eventually stopping.

Setting the brush down, I run my free hand over her bottom and the crease of her thighs, feeling the intense heat radiating off them. “Good girl. You took your punishment well. I’m proud of you.”

“T-t-thank you, Tony.”

“Almost done. You’re going to spend a little time in the corner contemplating your behavior and your punishment.”

“Yes, Sir.”

Helping her off my lap, I lead her to the corner of the living room. “Nose in the wall crease, hands at your sides. Stand still, do not fidget.”

I settle myself on the couch, watching her stand in the corner, admiring her red bottom, contemplating the fact that I just spanked my long-time friend (and current girlfriend), fulfilling a fantasy, and wondering whether it will become a regular occurance. After keeping her in the corner for 15 minutes, I instruct her to come back to me. Settling her on my lap. I hug her tightly. “Elizabeth, I’m sorry I had to punish you. I hope I don’t have to do it again for some time. However, I do hope it helped you with your feelings of guilt. And, I am certainly happy to repeat this evening’s punishment should your behavior make it necessary.”

Her head resting on my shoulder, our hands intertwined, she sniffles softly, “Thank you, Tony. I’m sorry I behaved so poorly, but… the spanking helped. I… think I may need another again…to help me remember.”

“We can talk about it later. Let’s just enjoy the rest of the evening.”

She nods, kissing me and snuggling close.