Should I be ... punished?

“I don’t know, Mr. P.” Alison’s face is bordering on tears, but she is holding it together for now.

“I think you do know, Angel.” I tell her firmly. “I think we both know what has to happen to young ladies who fail to deliver what they promise.

“Oh, no!” Her hand flies to her mouth as she stares at me in disbelief. “Mr. P please, you couldn’t.” Not only could I, but I am actively looking forward to bending this lovely young woman over my knees and feeling her firm ass bounce as I spank it. The silence in the kitchen grows longer until Alison tries a different approach.

“Mr. P.” Her soft eyes search yours for any sign of mercy, “Please, Sir, I haven’t been spanked in almost four years.” This is interesting in more ways than one. First of all, Alison’s ‘Sir’ is a nice touch; over the years students have called me ‘Sir’ and I always found it amusing, but this time I have a very different reaction. The second thing is the fact that she had been spanked at 15; that seems quite old for this kind of physical discipline, but by far the most important thing is that Alison is the one to use the word 'spank' first, and I didn’t have to.

“So your school believed in corporal punishment?” I probe a little as I stall for time.

“No, well yes,” the poor woman equivocates, “but it was my father who paddled me, not the school disciplinarian.” Her voice is ragged but clear, “My mother found a tube of lipstick in my jacket pocket, I hadn’t even dared try it on yet, but to my parents just the fact that I had bought the makeup was a sign of my whorish sinfulness.” I nod in understanding, my sister too had struggled with my parents about makeup.

“So your father bent his sinful daughter over the kitchen table and spanked her to teach her God’s mercy?” Alison nodded somberly.

“It was over his lap, not the kitchen table, but I had to lift my skirt and let him smack me with a ping-pong paddle until I was sobbing like a toddler.”

“And did you learn your lesson?” I ask as sternly as I could. Poor Alison couldn’t even speak, but she nodded her head sadly. “Do you think you could learn a lesson from me?” This time she did try to speak, but all that came out was a soft whimper, and so once again she nodded her head. I took her small hand in mine and led her into the living room, where I sat down on the couch and pulled her over my lap. To my delight she didn’t struggle or even pretend to object.

“Lift your skirt, Honey.” I try to hide the excitement I was feeling and hoped that Alison would not be able to feel my growing erection pressing against her belly. With a sniffle, she reached back and pulled the loose skirt up until I could see her pretty white panties. The silk panties was much sexier than the plain cotton I was expecting. Not exactly a thong, but the lacy fabric did little to cover her magnificent globes. I consider briefly pulling her panties down, but decide not to push my luck, instead I bunch up the sheer silk so it wedges itself into the crack between her cheeks. Apparently, she expected this because she doesn’t even murmur when I expose as much of her pale skin as I can.

“Are you going to use your hand, Mr. Patterson?” Alison asks as she suddenly realizes my intentions.

“I don’t have a ping-pong paddle, so my palm will have to do.” I tell her firmly before continuing as calmly as I can. “I’m sorry about this, Honey, I just don’t see any way around this.” The chance of me being sorry about any of this is close to zero, the only regret I have is that this is too early in my campaign to corrupt this young woman to grope her firm cheeks as I warm them.

“I know, Mr. P.” She takes a deep breath “I’ll try to be good from now on.” In her awkward face-down position, she cannot see the broad smile on my face as I land the first smack on her ass. “Aighhh!” She squeaks and then to my surprise starts the count. “One, Sir.” As much as I’d like to rest my hand on her reddening globe, I lift my hand almost immediately and prepare to spank her other cheek.

‘SMACK!” This one is harder and once again she cries out involuntarily and squirms sweetly on my lap before counting out. “Two, Sir.” The combination of her wiggling and the sight of her pale white cheeks turning a rosy pink is far more exciting than I was expecting. Occasionally my wife would let me spank her playfully before sex, but this feels very different; the power that I have over this pretty young teen is intoxicating and I lift my hand eagerly for yet another blow.