Give the cheerleader another paddling

The pretty blonde swallows down the businessman's cum and thanks him one last time before standing up stiffly and gingerly beginning to pull up her underwear. As the man returns to his place in the queue, you walk over to the well punished girl and put your hand on her shoulder.

"Not so fast, there. All that caterwauling and begging from earlier is not an acceptable way for a respectable young lady to comport herself. Come bend over my table and I'll teach you to take your punishment without disturbing the other customers."

Shock, horror and despair cross her beautiful face at the prospect of enduring a further beating on top of the last, but she obediently shuffles after you and drapes herself elegantly over the table where you were sitting a few moments ago.

"Feet shoulder width apart…a bit wider, that's good. Head up, looking straight ahead; let the people you've wronged see your tears. Press your belly firmly against the surface, but stand on tiptoes to push your bottom up and out. Keep your hands out of the way by putting them flat on the table."

You tuck the hem of her skirt into the waistband. Her bloomers have slipped back down to her ankles, but you pull them up to her knees and admonish her to keep them there before surveying her fine buttocks. When an implement is swung across both cheeks at once, it impacts the side further from the spanker harder, due to the sweep of his arm. You hadn't noticed, but by chance, the businessman's swing was the opposite of yours, so you will even up the purple and black bruises she is currently sporting.

"When a man takes the time and trouble to discipline a girl, it is for her benefit, not his own amusement. He will decide how many swats to give you, so begging him to stop or claiming you can't take any more is simply disrespectful. Accept that he knows better than you how much punishment you need to receive and submit to it. I will paddle you now. I don't expect you to be silent, but if you scream or complain, I will add swats. If you wish to apologise for your behaviour or promise to be good, please do so quietly, out of consideration for our fellow customers. If you move without permission, I will add swats. For now, I would like you to thank me politely after every smack and ask for the next one when you are ready. I expect you to be sincere in your thanks; if it sounds as if you are unhappy to be receiving discipline, I will repeat the stroke. Do you understand?"

"Yes, sir. I'm ready for the first swat, thank-you sir."

You pull back the rectangular wooden paddle and whack it smartly across her sore bottom. The cheerleader gasps and gives a single sob, before saying "Thank-you, sir." She takes two more shuddering breaths before asking for the next smack.

The crack of wood on skin echoes through the coffee chop, eliciting a quiet moan and more sobs, but she is showing much better self control than she demonstrated earlier, vindicating your decision to discipline her.

At the third blow, she grips the sides of the table as if she is frightened of falling off it, tears pouring from her eyes.

"None of that," you admonish, tapping her knuckles gently with the side of the paddle. "Clenching your hands, like screaming and swearing, is a coping mechanism to help you take the pain, but I am causing you that pain for a reason and trying to make it more bearable is attempting to thwart my authority. It is important that you suffer all the pain I deem necessary and if that means I have to increase the number of smacks, then that is what I will do."

"I'm sorry! I won't do it again, I promise." She immediately moves her hands back into position, then thanks you and asks for the next stroke.

The next three swats cause increasing distress. You have to remind her to keep her hips square to the table and her head up so that her tears are visible to onlookers. However, she is fighting hard to obey you and you don't want to penalize her too harshly. A fine sheen of perspiration covers her glowing skin and her thigh muscles are trembling with stress. Her lustrous hair hangs limply on either side of the face, soaked with sweat and tears, which have also puddled on the table beneath her chin.

You go to run your hand over her battered cheeks, but they are so hot to the touch that you can't do so comfortably, telling you that the paddling is having a lasting impression. The bruises have formed a pair of rounded T shapes around the base of her buttocks and tops of her thighs, meaning that sitting down will be a reminder of the lessons she has learned for quite some time. In the centre of each bruise, a white blister is appearing, so you know that she can't take much more without injury.

"You have done well so far. I am now going to administer six more strokes in quick succession. You do not need to thank me or ask for the next one, but all the other rules remain. If you make a fuss, I will start again."

You take a firm stance and swing the paddle hard and fast. Gasps turn to wails and sobs to complete hysterics, her whole body shaking like a leaf, writhing in agony, then she falls silent, her mouth a gaping O of anguish, unable even to draw breath for the torment searing through her burning flesh.

"Ny-ahhh, ah, ah, ah, nnn-oh, oh, uhhh, I'm sorry, I'm so sorry," she finally manages to breathe.

"It's alright," you tell the chastised blonde. "You have done very well, but stay there."

The cheerleader whispers "Thank-you" over and over as you inspect her bottom once again. The blisters have expanded to cover almost the entire bruised area, which has swollen up to be about an inch thick. You can't imagine how much pain she must be in, but that doesn't stop you adding to it. You take a couple of pats of butter from the dispenser at the counter, open them and squeeze the contents around and into her pink sphincter, which winks greasily at you as it accepts its chilly yellow invaders.

You drop your trousers and pants right in the middle of the coffee shop, spit in your hand and rub the saliva on your rampant prick. You don't think you have ever been this hard before. Thrashing a gorgeous young girl practically to breaking point and making her thank you for it is the greatest turn-on you can imagine.

"You can tip me with anal," you tell her as you position your phallus against her fundament and take a firm grip of her long blonde hair. This is the first time you have fucked a girl even a tenth as beautiful and sexy as this subjugated stunner and also the first time you have sodomized any girl, ever. Slowly, you **** your member into the tight, unyielding hole, eliciting a low groan from its owner. The vice-like grip threatens to overwhelm you, but you manage to hold back long enough to begin thrusting in and out.

The cheerleader is breathing like she's running a marathon and you're not far behind as you pound her back passage harder and faster, slamming your hips into her aching cheeks as she tries to squeeze the cum out of you. Looking up over her head, you catch sight of the redheaded barista who, rather than going about her work, is watching intently, pressing her thighs together and biting her lip absentmindedly, her eyes fastened on the girl beneath you.

Seeing her watch sends you over the edge and you bury yourself in the blonde, pumping your seed in her bowels. The intensity of your orgasm brings tears to your eyes and it takes a few moments for you to recover your senses and withdraw. You totter unsteadily to her head, slipping your yellow-stained member into her unresisting mouth.

"If I'm dirty, it's because you are. It's your responsibility to make sure you're clean back there, in case you end up taking it up the arse at short notice. It's probably a good idea to keep it lubricated, as well."

If she is as disgusted as you would expect, she isn't showing it, diligently and gently licking and sucking you clean. Hopefully, the straw-coloured marks are from the butter rather than anything else, but in any case, you are soon as fresh as when you entered the coffee shop and you pull out of her mouth and get dressed, giving the girl permission to do the same.

You watch her get herself together and hobble out of the door, the coffee she presumably came in to get abandoned following her double thrashing. As she leaves, you wish any of your students were half as attractive as she is. Still, perhaps you'll see her around the university and get another chance to spank and screw her one day.