In the distance Mia could already see the red roof of her piano-teacher’s home. Her hand fidgeting with the edge of her skirt as she thought of the ordeal that would come within the hour. She remembered the first time she had walked this road. She had been angry then, her father had sent her here for lessons. He hadn’t even asked her, she wasn’t interested in the piano at all. But as always, when her father had decided something, there was no arguing. She was going to learn to play an instrument whether she liked it or not; it was part of her education. Mia had told her teacher then, that she wasn’t really interested in what he had to teach her. The man, younger than she had expected and quite handsome, had tried to persuade her; to no avail. “I will have to tell your father and pay him back the money.” He ceded at the end. “He paid up front for the first three months.”
That couldn’t happen of course, Mia didn’t want her father to know she wasn’t taking his lessons. “No.” She said. “Just keep the money, we’ll pretend I’m still taking your lessons.”
She had not anticipated the angry look on his face then. What man wouldn’t like a great amount of money without having to work for it. “Do you expect me to lie to your father, Mia?” He asked her. “And what happens when he asks you to play something for him, when this deceit is uncovered?” She had blushed then, she had no solution at hand. They looked at each other silently, trying to find a solution, his eyes glided down her body and climbed back up slowly, making her blush before he told her his proposition: “Maybe you should make it worth my while if you want me to lie to your father.” He said. Mia had blushed deeply, thinking he wanted to have sex with her. “Perhaps I should teach you a different kind of lesson; a lesson for young spoiled brats. How about that?”
“What kind of lesson?” She had asked foolishly, confused by what he was offering. She still blushed now as she remembered how he had pulled her across his lap on his sofa for the first time, weeks ago. She had struggled, but he was much stronger than her.
When her skirt was raised and her panties dropped so that her bare bottom was exposed to him he asked her: “Stop struggling, or would you rather we go to my piano and continue with the lessons your father has paid for?” She had stopped struggling then, thinking about it deeply. It was hard to concentrate with her bottom naked up in the air. His hand was stroking her and it aroused her despite her humiliating position. Just a spanking, she thought, she could take one spanking if that meant she didn’t have to come for his lessons every week. A small part of her was curious, how would it be, to be spanked; and when she weighed the pros and cons, it was this small voice that tipped the balance and made her say “No, I will take the spanking please.” She could still remember that first smack that landed landed shortly after.
“Until next week.” Her teacher had said when it was all over, she had been standing in the corner, her tears already wiped away. She had been surprised, but not in the mood for arguing. So she had returned the following week, and the week after that. Today was the fourth weekend she went over for her piano-lessons; at least that’s what she told everyone else. Thinking about that first time made her think why she let him do this to her. At first she had thought it would be a one-time ordeal, but now she knew he expected her to come and yield to his perverted fantasy every weekend for as long as her father had paid. She could ask to learn and play the piano instead, he reminded her of that every week. At first she told herself she preferred half an hour of punishment over a whole afternoon of boring lessons. But she knew that wasn’t completely true.
She had reached the house and her train of thoughts was halted as he let her in. She followed him to his living room and took the glass of water he offered. “Still no piano-lessons this week Mia?” He asked her and she shook her head. He smiled then and took his place in the sofa. He definitely enjoyed their agreement, she knew. He took her over his lap without any struggle and she could feel his erection pressing against her stomach. She had felt it the week before for the first time, it still made her blush and feel uncomfortable. She had always believed that he got some erotic pleasure from spanking her, but from believing to knowing and actually feeling him press against her was a big step. His hands had lifted her skirt now, he was examining her panties. She always wore decent ones when coming here, something sexy with lace. They felt a bit as protection, telling him that she was not a little girl, but a grown woman. She wondered now if they actually made things worse and turned him on more. Thinking about how much he enjoyed her brought her back to her thoughts from before. Why did she let him do this, was some small part of her perhaps enjoying it too? The strange thought was suddenly underlined as he pulled down her panties and a chill ran up her spine as her bottom was bared.
His hand caressed her naked flesh. He never scolded her, they both knew why she was here: she was a spoiled brat that lied and was too lazy for her lessons. He took longer than the first time, took his time stroking her bottom, knowing that she wouldn’t stop him any more. It felt nice, this part always did, she tried not to think that a man – an attractive man – who she barely knew was touching her naked bottom, it was too embarrassing, instead she concentrated on the feeling alone. She suddenly realised that was a bad idea when she felt the heat between her legs. Embarrassed she blushed deeply and pressed her thighs together trying to hide her sudden unexpected feelings.
She betrayed herself of course, doing that. His hand left her bottom then and returned with a resounding smack on her behind. She moaned softly and he hit her again and again three more times, spreading the smacks across her bottom. He pushed his other hand on her lower back, keeping her still from her sudden struggles and the spanking started anew. He hit her hard and she moaned, even squealed at times. Every time she forgot how much it really hurt, that hand hitting her. He was spanking her seriously, not for fun, but actually wanting to make in impression. She hadn’t cried after that first time, but her eyes flooded. How could she have thought she could enjoy this. Her bottom was ablaze, hot and stinging, yet his hand didn’t offer any rest. Her whole body swayed back and forth over his lap, in rhythm with is stinging hand.
She knew what he wanted of course, he had to hear from her that she was learning her lesson. But if she begged him too soon he would know. She had tried asking him to stop before she had reached that moment where she couldn’t take any more and it had just encouraged him to spank her harder. So she waited a bit longer, groaning and squealing as her bottom turned redder and redder. Until she couldn’t take it any more and she begged him: “Please stop. Please, I’ll be a good girl, I promise.” She didn’t even blush, all she could think was that she would do whatever he asked as long as he stopped spanking her. And he felt that she meant, so he stopped. She lied panting, trying hard to catch her breath with her bottom on fire and up in the air. He let her lie for a moment before letting her get up. He nodded to the corner, not even needing words to tell her what he wanted, so she moved. She lost her panties that were dangling from her ankles halfway there but she didn’t pick them up. Her skit was wrapped around her waist and she stood in his corner with her hands on her head. Finally she started blushing again, her face heating as she imagined his eyes on her naked and red behind. Blushing because she was spanked like a little girl, blushing because something inside her told her that she probably deserved all of this. The time in the corner was always the most embarrassing for her because all she could do here was think. She tried hard not to think about that short moment before her spanking started. But the harder you try not to think of something, the harder it gets.
When she came back from his bathroom her teacher was still in his sofa. He allowed her to freshen up in there, wash her face and clean the tears that had filled her eyes. Even put her panties back on in privacy. “Until next week.” He said with a smile as she walked to the door. He didn’t seem to have moved from the sofa since their spanking, but suddenly she noticed a small difference. On the coffee table their was a small box of tissues. She turned around quickly, walked out and closed the door behind her. She was quickly reminded of his erection against her belly and what he would need those tissues for. She blushed, deeply embarrassed. Her panties were uncomfortable, and not just against her sore bottom. What’s wrong with me? She wondered for a second time; the first was when she pulled them on and felt how moist they felt between her legs.
He’s probably in there masturbating right now. She thought, leaning with her back against the door. Embarrassing as the thought was it only made her feel hotter. He had a large front yard and she couldn’t see the street from where she was standing. Her hand slipped under her skirt and into her panties. Don’t think. She told herself. Just don’t think. But she did think, think about his hand, holding her tight, smacking her, making her squeal and all the while her fingers slid inside her, played with her. Her knees went weak and she almost collapsed, here at his front door, when she brought herself to a silent orgasm. That little voice in her head, the one that had made her accept the spanking the first time, that made her come back for more every time, spoke again: Perhaps next time we can stay a bit longer…
***
The end
