More self-control is necessary

You notice that the blonde lying over your lap has clenched her fists and her toes with the strain of dealing with the growing pain in her backside. This particular show of ill-discipline is just too much for you to let slide.

"Léa, I have to ask you to relax your body and hold still. Squirming about like this is disrespectful and borders upon resisting your deserved chastisement."

"I am sorry, Jaques," she wails in anguish, "I will try harder."

"Put your hands in the small of your back, palms up."

She complies and you waste no time in beginning to swat the bristles of the brush into the aforementioned palms, quickly covering them in fiery red pinpricks of agony. Léa's muscles tighten briefly, then she forces herself to relax and submit to the punishment that every nerve urges her to avoid. Guttural sobs wrack her chest, but she manages to hold her hands still until they look like they've been attacked by a swarm of angry insects. Then you order her to give you her feet, which she does, flexing her knees with a groan.

"Bend your toes back," you instruct and are pleased by how taut this leaves the tender skin of her arches. A dozen hard smacks to each sole leaves her shaking and nearly screaming into the mattress, but she stoically keeps her feet in position.

"That's better, Léa. Now lie flat again, hands above your head and I'll repeat the spanking with which you struggled earlier, only somewhat harder and longer. This will necessitate extending the spanking to the backs of your legs, also."

"Thank-you, Jaques," she whimpers. "I am sorry to cause you so much trouble."

Reversing the brush again, you resume with a flurry of firmer spanks, first covering the same ground as your previous foray, before broadening your attentions to her slender and more sensitive thighs. Throughout this ordeal, every smack sends ripples through Léa's aching flesh, but she no longer flinches or struggles, remaining limp and accepting, although trying to scream and sob at the same time leaves her **** on her own tears.

Finally, you've had enough and tell the young lectrice that her ordeal is over. Immediately, she starts to thank you profusely for your efforts, painfully pushing herself up onto hands and knees so she can look you in the eye through tearstained lashes, whilst she expresses her gratitude verbally and practically begs for the chance to tip you.