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The sun came out from behind a cloud as she spoke, as if to put the spotlight on her form. Blazing in from the nearby window, the November light had the last bastion of warmth before the winter arrived. The rays shone through the thin fabric, highlighting her slender outline and he couldn’t fail to notice her pert nipples sticking out from underneath, nor could he ignore the fact she was not wearing underwear—the blurred tuft of dark hair stood out at the apex of her thighs. Rick’s loins twitched and he battled to keep his manhood under control and out of sight.
“Do you think I should spank you again?”
“If you think so,” she said, dropping her eyes down.
“I do,” he said simply. “And harder this time.” He crossed to the other side of the kitchen, opened the utensil drawer, and picked out a wooden spoon.
“A spoon!” she gasped. “That will hurt.”
“A little more than last time, but then if you want to get up in time in the mornings, it has to be something you’re going to remember.” He slapped it down on his palm and felt it smart. He would have to judge the spanking carefully; scaring her was out of the question.
Leah turned her back to him and put both hands on the worktop surface. She bent over slightly, pushing her bottom up higher, but keeping it covered by the shimmering nightie. It made no difference to Rick; the globes of her bottom showed clearly, each one a perfectly modelled lobe. She carried no excess, neither was it a skinny behind. The temptation was strong—to stand behind her, press his aching cock between those cheeks and rock hard, in and out until she came. He had to shake himself out of his daydreaming. She was not his to take.
Rick took up position to one side of Leah. Out of her mouth came tiny pants of trepidation and he waited for her to catch her breath.
“Just a few with my hand first,” he told her, putting the spoon down. “Ready?”
“Yes,” she said, squeezing her eyes tightly shut.
* * *
His hand landed with a smack. Leah’s feet lurched forward and she toppled down on to the worktop. There she remained; it was easier than holding her body up. Arms scrunched up under belly, legs slightly parted, and bottom raised, she waited for the next one.
She watched the second descend out of the corner of her eye. The way he swung his arm a measured distance back and landed it with accuracy right onto the part of her that sat on the wooden seats in the lecture hall. She was sure he was doing that on purpose. She cursed under her breath. It stung immediately and he hadn’t even picked up the spoon.
Another two and he stopped. A few brisk rubs on each cheek and then he added another four. She could feel the temperature of her flesh rise, radiating out.
“Time for this now,” he said, picking up the wooden spoon. “A dozen. Do you think that will get you out of bed in time?”
“Oh, yes,” she exclaimed. “Do you have to do so many?”
“If you decided, it wouldn’t be the same, would it?”
She shook her head. “Please don’t tell my daddy,” she whispered.
“Your father won’t be told because you are going to be good from now on, aren’t you, Miss Leah?”
Rick tapped the spoon a few times on her right buttock. Leah found she was instinctively holding her breath, her eyes screwed up and her teeth clenched in anticipation. Her body went rigid and consequently, the first landing of the spoon stung. The impression it left in her flesh may have been small in size, but its impact ricocheted throughout her cheek. Her gritted teeth held back the gasp, so it came out more like a sharply inhaled hiss. Then, before she could register the pain properly, her left cheek was targeted. Each attempt at relaxing and removing the tension was thwarted by the swift smarting. The spoon definitely hurt more than his firm hand.
It couldn’t be helped; as he spanked her with the spoon, her nightie rose up and exposed her bare cheeks. Initially embarrassed by the unveiling, she tried to lower her nightdress but he warned her to keep her hands clear. After four whacks of the hard spoon, she thought about how close she was to failing her daddy and losing her independence. Resolve seeped into her, so did determination to take her little punishment and put it to good use. She juddered, baulked a little and stamped bare feet on the wooden floor, but she didn’t cry nor beg for him to stop.
The smarts of the spoon lingered on and each one added to the next. A small fire had been lit in each buttock cheek and with it she could not help feeling a different kind of fire being ignited alongside it. Could he see it? Between her bare legs, below the cleft of her buttocks, her lips had swollen and she suspected she was wet, like she was when she fantasised about movie or pop stars.
“Ow,” she grimaced as the eleventh blow landed.
“This could have been much worse for you,” he told her. “At my school, miscreants were soundly thrashed with a cane.”
“Please don’t.”
“No, Miss Leah. Your bottom doesn’t deserve that. Not if you are good for me.”
He referred to himself. Not her father or her tutors, but Rick. She could see his face, the determined expression and the stern eyes, yet through it all, she saw a different man. Somebody like her, abandoned by parents and brought up to look after himself. She could do that too and she would to prove to him she could.
“I will be good. I promise,” she hollered as the last smack of spoon bounced off her sore flesh.
The spoon clattered onto the worktop. She slowly rose, letting the nightie slip back down, caressing the residual soreness of her behind. They stood facing each other, both silently panting in their own particular way. She so wanted him to reach out and kiss her, but it didn’t seem appropriate. Little by little, he began to back away.
“Please don’t,” she said. “Don’t ignore me.”
