A Chance Meeting

Here is a story I found gathering dust on the hard drive. I don’t know who “Professor Steven” is, but I was attracted to the story because it recounts one of those once-in-a-lifetime chance encounters we all dream about. Does stuff like this happen? Yeah, it does, actually. People talk to each other in hotel bars or are thrown together by circumstance. A few drinks, a little flirting, a few more drinks, some hormones kick in. Next thing you know…well, you know.

What would be rare is the chance meeting of two spankophiles. What are the odds?

[Art by Stanton; photos by Punished Brats and Nu-West]

 

A Chance Meeting by Professor Steven

 

 

I am a graphic arts consultant mainly dealing with computer graphics, typesetting etc. for the printing and publishing trades. I have clients mostly based here in Nevada but I also have a few that require my services in So. Cal. and I need to go there about 6 times a year.

Last winter was one of those times. I’ve serviced a client now for about 4 years and they had recently hired part time gal, Grace, to assemble their technical manuals. I spent 2 days with Grace whom I would guess to be in her late forties. She is a school teacher from the Midwest who moved to San Diego after a divorce from her husband. Having to support herself, she went back to school and learned how to set type. Grace was an attractive woman. Her figure was striking and well maintained. Of particular interest to me was her derriere, which was ample but shapely, two rounded globes that quite nicely filled out the rear end of her tight skirts. Though dyed now, her natural hair color was red and she wore it shoulder length.

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At the end of the second day of training she invited me to a drink at the lounge of the hotel where I was staying. Though we got to know each other rather well during the training we “really” got to know each other that evening.

We had a few drinks, and although we never got drunk, our conversation became very open with the help of the alcohol. We started talking about her career as a school teacher back in Indiana, particularly during the sixties and seventies.

Our conversation turned to the discipline back then and she told me that in her younger days she could swing a pretty mean paddle. She said she taught at a junior high school at the time and rarely a week would go by without some bad young lady or boy being taken out in the hall for three or four swats of her paddle. School policy allowed up to a dozen swats but rarely did she ever approach that number. She said that sometimes she wished she could apply it on their bare behinds as they often deserved it and the heavy clothing in the winter inhibited her full impact. Though it wasn’t technically against the law to paddle on the bare it wasn’t a condoned practice. The most she could do was to have them change into their gym clothes, consisting of a t-shirt and shorts, and keep them after school to be paddled.

Being the spankophile that I am, her stories held my interest and I provoked the conversation further.

She proceeded to tell me about some of the paddlings she handed out. Her most memorable was when her gradebook came up missing and she proceeded to paddle the entire class of 14 girls and 11 boys. They were sent to the locker rooms to change and to wait in the gym. They were lined up against the wall and she proceeded to go down the line, pulling one forward, bending them over to grab their knees and she gave them two swats. No one would fess up to the misdeed so she began again and went through the line a second time. Her arm tired but she had to see her threat through. She had all the students face the wall and announced that the next series of swats would be on the bare. She paddled the bare butts of all 11 boys and 7 of the girls before the 8th girl spilled the beans on the girl next in line. She said she had gone so far and since everyone chose to keep silent for so long that she finished paddling the rest of them on the bare.

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The girl that stole the grade book was then instructed to remain after school. Her parents were called and father came in. Grace said that she detailed to him the day’s events and he, though angry, very calmly took his daughter by the ear and stood her up from her seat. He asked Grace if he could see the paddle she had used on the class. She showed him and he pulled up a chair, sat down and pulled his daughter across his lap. Her skirt went up and her panties went down and the paddle rose and fell at least 2 dozen times.

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I asked her if she herself had ever been spanked or paddled and she admitted that a bare bottom spanking was part of her weekly diet up until the time she went off to college. Usually at the mercy of her mother’s hairbrush (she made it a point to tell me she still had her mother’s hairbrush) but a few times at the hand of her brother who was 2 years her senior. (Her father had long since deserted them)

In college she joined a sorority where freshmen and sophomores were frequently subjected to bare bottom paddlings by the members, not only during hell week but anytime a sorority rule was broken. She said that there were a lot of rules and a “court” was held on Sunday afternoons. A charge could only be brought against you by any upper classmate and if the court ruled in her favor you would be paddled in the presence of the entire house by your assigned Senior advisor. Juniors were also subject to the same but the occurrence was infrequent. In the case of a senior being found guilty of an infraction a private paddling was administered by the Sergeant at Arms. What I’d give to have been a fly on the wall of that sorority house on Sunday afternoons back then.

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Anyway, the conversation continued to excite me and I could tell it was exciting her also. I pressed further asking if she had ever been spanked as an adult.

Her eyes lit up and she said, “Oh you better believe it!”

She proceeded to tell me how she and her first husband, who was killed in Viet Nam, used to play spanking games as a prelude to sex. She said that at school she ruled the class with a wooden paddle, but at home she liked to take on a submissive role with her husband acting as her father.

I asked about her second husband and she said that they tried it a few times but he just couldn’t find an interest in it.

I then let on that I am very interested in the spanking scene. I told her that I wrote stories and collected pics and such from the internet. I also told her that I had spanked the bottoms, usually bare, of a number of willing women. Her interest in me was changing now and I could see the excitement and prospect growing.

I asked her if she missed it and she blushed and told me that indeed she did. I asked if she now fantasized about it and again with a blush she admitted so. She also offered that she too spent a considerable amount of time surfing the spanking sites on the internet.

Finally, with all the courage I could muster asked her flatly, “Would you like to be spanked now?”

Again she blushed and I could tell I had her.

She said, sort of assuming a submissive attitude, “But I haven’t done anything wrong.”

“I think that if you concentrate for just a moment I’m sure there’s something you’ve done that deserved a spanking but didn’t get one. Think now. It’s been a long time since your last spanking.”

She thought for a minute or two but it seemed like hours. I just stared at her waiting an answer. She fidgeted in her chair and finally said, “Well there was one time…a long time ago. I think I was about 23 or 24. I had just graduated college and was living at home for the summer until my teaching job would start in the fall. Having graduated with honors and 23 years old I became quite big for my britches and literally, by today’s standards, was a high strung bitch. I mouthed off to my mother one day, one time too many, and in lieu of the threat of being kicked out on my own and for the first time in seven years found myself bare-bottomed across her lap.”

 

She paused, though the story had my interest I interjected, “But you’ve been punished for that… What have you done that you got away with?”

“I’m getting to it,” she said. “She really blistered me with the hairbrush… 15 swats – and that was after an uncountable number with her hand – far worse than any sorority sister had ever done… and then to top it off she grounded me for three weeks.tumblr_mlvkggalOF1qii8jto1_500 I had to be in by nine every night and was promised another spanking if I wasn’t or if I sassed her ever again.” Again she paused but continued, “I had a big 4th of July party to go to that I didn’t want to miss and even though I begged to go and even offered my bottom for another spanking instead, she stood her ground and forbid me to be out past nine. Well the 3rd of July came and my mother got a call from my aunt in Phoenix and had to go there due to some kind of family problems. Before she left she warned me that I had better not be out past nine but she was going to trust me that I would abide by her word. If she found out I wasn’t home on time I could expect twice the spanking I got the other day, and I would be grounded the rest of the summer.”

Her story was getting long but added to the anticipation of the moment so I just listened.

“Well I took my chances. I really wanted to go to the party and I knew the best of the party would be long past nine. I called my two girlfriends and blatantly lied to them telling them I had a reprieve for the party. We went to the party and nine o’clock came and went without a thought. There was beer at the party and I even though I made it through college with never getting drunk I overindulged and spent quite some time in the bathroom that night. My mother didn’t really ever tell us not to drink socially but did say that a woman should never get drunk and should never make a spectacle of herself by being drunk in public. Well, there was two more of her rules I broke because from what my friends told me – I was the life of the party. The next day I had quite a hangover and spent most of the day in bed. My mother called and asked why I sounded like I just woke up and asked where I had been the night before and told me she called at 10:30 and didn’t get an answer. I lied to her and told her that I got very ill last night and went to bed early. She asked me if I was sure I hadn’t been at that party? I told her that I had been too sick to go. She seemed to accept and trust my answer as she’s never mentioned it again.”

Grace sat silent looking at me like a scolded child as she knew the wheels were in motion. I simply stood up and offered her my hand. “I’m very disappointed in you, young lady. I think it’s time to go.”

I led her out of the lounge and to the elevator and then to my suite saying nothing. She followed willingly knowing she was about to have her first spanking in several years. We were silent until we got in the room. I asked her if she wanted to freshen up and she did and went into the bathroom. I sat on the sofa and awaited her return.

When she came out she came up and stood in front of me. I patted my thigh and asked her to sit. Upon my lap, I began to scold her. “Lying! Drinking! Out past curfew! Not the behavior for a proper young lady is it?”

She shook her head in agreement.

“More the actions of a bad little girl. Don’t you think?”

Again she shook her head. “Yes sir.”

I asked her, “And what happens to bad little girls when they misbehave?”

Grace dropped her head and pouted her lips. “I’m sure they get a spanking.”

“So don’t you think you deserve to get a spanking?”

Shaking her head in agreement, she replied. “But it was so long ago.”

“Never-the-less. you earned a spanking then that you never got. You still deserve it now. Don’t you?”

She just shook her head again and said quietly, “I guess so.”

“Do you have your hairbrush with you?” I asked stretching my luck as I hadn’t come prepared to spank anyone.

To my amazement she replied, “Yes, it’s in my purse.”

“Go and bring it to me.”

She scampered off my lap and retrieved the hairbrush from her purse. It was in remarkable condition for its age. I would have to guess it at least fifty or sixty years old. It was solid wood, oval, and had a shiny black lacquer finish. The handle had the “FB” logo gold stamped into the leather wrapped handle. I could only guess it stood for Fuller Brush. She mentioned, as I looked it over, that she had it re-bristled once about ten years ago.

I set the brush aside and patted my thigh. “Across my lap, young lady!”

Obediently, she complied. She was wearing a women’s business suit and she took off her vest and hiked up her skirt to get across my lap. I noticed she had taken off her pantyhose while in the bathroom which indicated to me that she expected (or was hoping) her skirt would be lifted.

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Gambling on my hunch, I said, “Lying! Drinking! Curfew! Very naughty, naughty girl.” I lifted her skirt revealing her white cotton panties. Getting no resistance so far I gambled further and began pulling her panties down as I said, “All too serious offenses to let these come between you and a sound spanking.” What luck – not a peep. In fact, she raised her hips to allow me to slide her panties to her knees easily.

 

I spanked her first with my hand some 10 or 12 minutes until her bottom took on an even pink glow. At that point I made her stand and I removed her skirt but left her panties at her knees. I now knew that she was a true redhead. With her blouse held above her waist I led her to the corner where she stood for 5 minutes while I admired her pink globes. Five minutes isn’t that long but it seemed like it as we both knew the hairbrush was yet to come. She stood perfectly still – face to the corner, hands folded neatly in front and elbows tight to her sides to keep her blouse from falling.

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I picked up the hairbrush. “How many did your mother give you?” I asked.

She replied, “Fifteen.”

“And how many did she warn you that you would get if you disobeyed?”

“Twice that – thirty.”

“And that was just for breaking curfew! There’s still the matter of lying and drinking!”

“Yes sir,” she replied.

“Well let’s have you back over here. We’ve a long way to go.”

Grace scampered back over my lap and waited anxiously for the touch of the brush. She shivered slightly when I placed the cool flat surface on her warm pink butt.

“You’ll count these.” I said as I began to spank. I started rather mildly at first but occasionally landing a good swat to test her endurance. As the paddling progressed and her ass grew red she became able to handle quite a hard swat. Grace counted each and every swat accurately and bravely held up the entire 30 swats. Her butt had become very red and I could tell she wasn’t far from her threshold.

“Do you think an additional 15 for lying and 15 more for drinking is fair?” I asked.

“Yes sir,” she replied.

“But first I want you to stand and remove your blouse and bra but leave your panties where they are.

“Yes sir,” she said. She did so and in crawling back across my lap asked, “Should I count again?”

“That’s a good idea. I wouldn’t want you to get any more that you deserve.”

The brush began to fly up and down again. Slowly and steadily in rhythm making each swat count. Occasional “yelps” and “oooh’s” emitted her lips between the counts. Again though she braved each swat and even welcomed the next by raising her hips to await it’s sting. Reaching thirty again, making 60 swats in all, Grace was beside herself. She couldn’t hide her excitement.

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I let her from my lap and was leading her to the corner again when she stopped, turned and gave me a big heavy hug. She whispered in my ear, “The corner can wait.” Then I felt her hands go to my belt. In a flash, I was naked too except for a condom stretched tight on my manhood. Grace was on her knees at my feet.

The rest is for the imagination but I’ll leave you with this. Grace got one more spanking later (much later) that night. She was late for work the next day and I just barely made my flight out the next morning.

 

 

 

 

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