Does it have to make sense?


"Harder!" she yelled from just left of my knees as she wriggled in my lap. "Hit me harder!"

I raised my hand up once again, the black robes draped from my arm sweaping out like the wing of some giant bat man and I knocked the mortar board from my head. It fell to the floor in front of her handcuffed hands and she twisted her head round to look up at me. My bashful look was all it took to tell her something was wrong.

"Listen, I'm just not comfortable with hitting women. There's something innately wrong about it."

She gave me a crimson pout and batted her dark eyelashes at me; "But I've been such a naughty girl and I deserve a spanking."

Her pleated navy skirt was hitched up around her waist and the long white socks pulled up to her knees led to a slightly red pair of buttocks. The rouge impression of a hand, my hand, could be seen on each cheek.

"I just don't feel right spanking you like this."

Her head bobbed back up and her pigtails bounced like antenna.

"Oo! You want to use a cane?!"

A selection of crops, canes and floggers had been deposited at my feet before she had stretched herself feline-like across my lap. She rolled slightly and landed on her knees, sitting down on her black patent Mary-Janes before breathing huskily.

"I didn't do my homework. I wrote rude things in the girl's toilets. I disobeyed my parents. I... I..." there was a note of desperation in her eyes as she could see that I still wasn't getting into this roleplay.

"I squeezed the toothpaste in the middle!"

My eyes went wide.

"I told my mother she could come stay with us next weekend!"

My lips curled back in a snarl of primal rage.

"I rearranged the DVD collection out of alphabetical order!"

That did it.