“Nooooo, Chris… pleaseeeee!” I begged, squirming to no end over his lap and moving my hands back so many he’d give me a break from the spanking for a bit.
“Alyssa,” he warned, grabbing my wrists with his left hand and smacking my rear again, “stop struggling.”
“B-but.. it… ahhh.. hurts!” He didn’t let up any on the spanking, though. His ears were deaf to my pleas. I can’t say that I’m not glad of that, though. I was enjoying this to no end. “No, more… pleaseee…”
“Yes, more,” he replied. “This is for all the schoolwork that you waited too late to finish.”
Wow, that’s a lot of schoolwork, I thought to myself. I was in my second semester in college and having trouble getting things finished on time — Chris could bear witness to that. But think of all the years before that… I hadn’t *actually* done homework since like, fourth grade. Uh, this was going to be one long spanking.
“Ohhh, owwww… but, Chris! I’ll finish it next time!” I promised.
He actually laughed! “Yeah right.. and I bet you’ll stop being bratty and stop drinking and never smoke again, too, huh?”
“Yessss!” I howled, squirming again and trying to free my hands.
SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! “Alyssa, if you turned into an angel from this spanking, it’d be a miracle,” he told me.
He was damn right about that. I mean, yes, it hurt like crazy (I was kind of new to *actually* getting spanked… I’d only written, read stories, and saw videos of others and thought it wouldn’t be so bad, but I was wrong!), but he was only using his hand, and it felt good enough to where I’d want it again. Did I mention that I wanted this spanking? And the fact that I was aching just made me want it more… even though I kinda wanted him to stop, too. Weird mixed feelings, I know.
“Chris — ow — agh, it hurts!”
I knew he was smirking. “Just as I hoped,” he commented then delivered two VERY HARD smacks to my sitspots and lifted me from his lap.
I stood weakly in front of him, rubbing my bottom. It was very hot, stung tons. How was I going to be able to make it through the rest of the night without bursting from excitement?
He opened his arms and pulled me in for a hug, nearly squeezing the mess out of me. He placed his hands on top of mine, which were conviently on top of my bottom, which made me even more excited. “How ya feeling?” he asked. “You okay?”
I nodded, head pressed against his shoulder. “Yeah, I’m good… realllly good,” I murmured. He moved me from him and lay me on my stomach on the bed, lying himself next to me after planting another solid smack on my still bared bottom. “Ouch! Hey! What was that for?”
He smiled. “Because I wanted to do it.”
I smiled back, tugging my panties and pants back up, and just lying there next to him. We stayed silent for a moment, he staring at the ceiling and I trying to steady my heartrate… as you can imagine, it was racing!
Our silence was interrupted by the sound of the school bells down the street. “I sometimes wished that I went to the Catholic school down there,” I told him, pure randomness.
He gave me a weird look as if wondering why I said that, but then he heard the bells, too — it was nine o’clock, they were all probably making their way to their dorms for curfew. “You wanted to go to a Catholic school? But… you’re not Catholic..?”
I snuggled towards him. “I know, but I wanted to go to a private school and wear those cute little schoolgirl uniforms and get spanked in real life, ya know? Like, for being late or something. Just in general. But I guess Catholic school wouldn’t be where I would want to go, because they have nuns. I’d have to go somewhere where at least the dean was male, and hopefully some of the teachers…”
He nodded. “Sounds good. I wouldn’t mind dressing you up in a schoolgirl uniform and playing teacher while you played the naughty student,” he told me, wide grin on his face.
I rolled my eyes. “I think I’ll pass on that,” I said, knowing that it probably meant a paddle or something other than a hand would be involved. “It’d be better, in real life.”
“You’re right about that,” he said, stretching out a little bit and laying on his side to talk to me. “So if you could actually go back and be at a private school, how would you want it to go?”
I raised my eyebrows. Maybe this meant he’d write a story for me! I mean, we’d known each other for years, but only after knowing him for a while did I realize that he was a spanko, too. He’d always written stories, but one day I came across them on the net and realized how much the characters resembled… well… him, and I’d like to hope that the others resembled me, but I never asked. And anyway, since we’d been seeing each other, he’d write stories for me, and it was great!
“I mean like, how old would you want to be, and would you want to have gone there all your life, or would it be your first year?” he asked.
“I’d want to be fifteen or sixteen,” I began, thinking about the other question. “And maybe my mom got married and shortly after died or something, and I was living with my stepdad, who would conviently be Hugh Grant and…”
“Hugh Grant is British,” he told me, like I didn’t know.
“So? He’s still sexy!”
He rolled his eyes at me.
“*Anyway,* so after Mumsy died, stepdad would be super busy with his spiffy acting career and stuff, so he’d send me and his daughter to private school… so I guess I would have been there a couple of years.”
“Is his daughter British or American?” he teased.
“British, duh,” I said.
“And what else?”
“Hmm, so it’d be our like, third year or so at this private school and the dean would be hott and I’d get sent to him a lot. Hey… that rhymes!” I exclaimed excitedly.
He shook his head at me. “I think if you spent a year in a private school, you probably…” he began but was interrupted by someone walking inside the house.
“I’m home!” he yelled, and I knew it was Chris’s roommate, Cole. “Hope I’m not interrupting anything,” he said, then just opened Chris’s bedroom door like if he had interrupted, we’d have gotten our clothes back on by then.
“Don’t you ever knock?” I sneered, glaring at him.
He grinned, ruffling my hair. “Of course not. What’s the point?”
I rolled my eyes. “Take it easy,” Chris whispered in my ear then sat up, patting my bum. I winced at his touch. He honestly thought I hated Cole with a passion, but that wasn’t true — I just didn’t care for him too much. “What’s up, Cole?” he asked as the tall lanky boy opened his room across the hall and threw his jacket inside.
“I might have a date for Saturday night!” he exclaimed like a fifteen year old girl.
“Who would date you?” I muttered and Chris flashed a glare at me as a warning. Cole knew about my spankings, and Chris let it be known that he would do it in front of him if he had to.
But Cole ignored me. “Anyway, I’m ecstatic! She’s twenty, third year college student majoring in pre-med… she’s great!”
I bit my lip to keep from making a comment. I think it’s just the relationship Cole and I had… we loved to tease each other!
“Is she great because she’s a ‘third year college student majoring in pre-med’ or is she a third year college student majoring in pre-med because she’s great?” I asked, sticking my tongue out at him.
“Shut up, baby Alyssa. You’re just jealous because you got stuck with Chrissypooh who doesn’t even know what pre-med means!”
I glared at him.
“Children, enough,” Chris said. “And I do know what pre-med is, thankyouverymuch.. it’s just not interesting to me, that’s all.”
Chris was a philosophy major. He was twenty-two and finishing his last semester in college. That’s more than I can say for Cole — he was barely able to legally drink and finished community college only to work as a manager at a pizza place… and the pizza wasn’t even that great! But that’s probably because I ate it all the time.
“I gotta go anyway,” I said, sitting up and wincing from the pain in my backside. I could tell Cole was biting his lip to keep from giggling. I pulled on my socks then my green shoes, tying them tightly. Looking at those green shoes, I remembered something… “Chris, I’d want to be fourteen again — ninth grade, where I had posters of my favorite bands plastered on my walls and I listened to heavy music and wore baggy jeans. *Those* were the days…” Cole hadn’t heard that — he’d gone to the kitchen to grab a bite to eat.
“Yeah, your freshman year was fun,” he said. That was when we met — he was a senior and I a freshman, and he and his friends used to always take me with them to local concerts. “Lots of memories.”
I nodded, kissing him on the cheek and walking away, letting him follow me. He’d never let me walk out to my car alone, nor would he let me leave with just a kiss on the cheek. We made it outside and he hugged me tightly to block the wind from making me too cold.
“Have a good night,” he said, smiling.
“You too… don’t work too hard!” He worked night shifts at one of the radio stations.
“Don’t worry, I won’t,” he assured me, then kissed me like I was in a sappy love teen-movie. “See you later.”
I plopped down in my car and began backing out of the driveway, his last words ringing through my ears. See you later? Didn’t he mean “see you tomorrow”?