Elle's in charge now, FF domestic discipline

Okay, before we get started, something to say here. I had been cyber playing with sweet Elle for some time now, and have a whole bunch of stories out there, where I am spanking (and doing other things! ) to her sweet little butt. Except, that in rl, I am a spankee, not a spanker. And Miss Elle, despite being a lot younger, well, is very topish. And we have, during our cyber play, reverted back to our true natures. This is my first public post with Miss Elle in charge... ********************************************* **************************************
I feel her come up behind me, while I'm standing there, quietly, hands folded in front of me, in my corner. I can feel her presence, the warmth of her body, smell the scent that is her, the combination of perfume, her skin, her hair...

And she comes up Very close, just a whisper touch away, and I shiver. I know I'm in trouble, but I want to turn, to beg forgiveness, to say I'm sorry, that it will never happen again, to please forgive me, and most of all I want to plead with her not to spank me! But I don't do any of that. Because as much as I am afraid and a big coward about what is to come, I know I was in the wrong. And trying to get out of it now, wouldn't be right...

"If you had simply done as you were supposed to," she breathes in my ear, "this wouldn't be needed, would it dear?"

"No ma'am..."

"You could be enjoying a very naughty good girl spanking right now, couldn't you? With me touching and teasing and playing ALL over down there. And Angela Lynn, I HAD so wanted to do that, but I can't now. Because SOMEONE earned herself a very good old fashioned spanking, didn't she?"

I shiver, because I know that besides paying for my mistake, I'm going to be paying for messing up our night....

"Take off your skirt, now..."

And I do, reaching back, unzipping it, a simple straight grey sheath, with the walking slit in back fitted over my hips, and then tapering. She says she likes the way my bottom looks in it. But right now, it's snug, and I have to wriggle a bit to get it down, and I don't feel sexy, knowing what is coming, just embarrassed...

I step out of it, and straighten, only to feel several Very hard slaps to my thighs! I squeal, I dance, but don't really move that much...

"Is that how you are supposed to leave your clothes, young lady?"

And her use of 'young lady', given our age differences, makes me blush and squirm as it always does...

"N-no ma'am, it isn't."

And I bend to pick it up but am captured under her arm before I can rise, and her hand falls quickly and hard, on my outthrust very plump bottom, on my pantyhose, and the blue lace nylon bikinis beneath...

My squeals turn to sniffles, before she stops, and releases me, and I gather up the skirt, carefully fold it, and put it over the back of the nearby chair.

"That," she informs me, "doesn't count towards your other spanking.... Now we are going to start with you over my lap, and the brush I think. Run along like a good girl, and get it for me. MY brush, the one in the bedroom..."

And sobbing, because it was the strictest of the brushes we had, I ran off, bottom wobbling slightly in its pantyhose and panty confines, blouse not covering more than the upper half, my mind focusing on the words ' to start....'

I got the brush, returned, my steps slowing considerably as I approached my Elle... I was scared, of what was to come, and embarrassed, once again, the difference in our ages coming to my mind. At other times, it didn't matter in the least, nor the fact that she was the one who so naturally took charge, the lead in our relationship. But now, at times like these, when I was going to be across her lap, bottom b-bared, for a Punishment spanking, it was almost too much. I should have been the mature one, given my age. I should have been the one adminsitering any needed punishment. After all, wasn't it like that in all the stories? The older woman, seducing, teaching, spanking her younger lover if she needed it. But not here.

Oh, granted, there were times when I was a 'mother' or 'aunt' figure, proffering advice, giving suggestions, providing guidance. But it was my love who was the natural leader in our relationship. It seemed that sweet Elle, was the ying to my yang. Where I had dreamed, ever since I was a girl, of having a lover turn me over her knee, and spank me and love me, Miss Elle had always dreamed of having someone TO spank. We were made for each other. But at times like this... so terribly hard. I hated disappointing her, hated having her upset with me, hated what I knew was coming, even as I knew it was what was needed, to make things right, between us, and in my own mind as well. But that didn't make times like these any easier. Not in the least.

She was waiting for me, seated, in the chair that was almost exclusively used for my spankings, both the good and bad girl kinds... I bit my lip, paused, blushed, and and then with trembling hand, passed the brush to my pretty lover.

"H-here ma'am," I got out, as my voice quavered, seeming in time with the tremble. I felt foolish, standing there partially dressed, blouse that didn't cover anything important front or back, which matched the color of my panties. My very sheer panties. Under my pantyhose. Again, not the lingere of stories, but what was worn so often by so many, for practicality. And Elle, she was dressed in her white linen slacks, and silk fushia top, beautiful, tall, sleek. I liked that she was tall, that I could rest my head agains her chest when we hugged or danced or cuddled...But with her dressed, and me not, well, it only emphasised what was about to happen.

If I had been totally bare, or even bare from the waist down, or allowed to have taken the pantyhose off first, I could have possibly fooled myself for a moment, pretended that this was a prelude to some more pleasant intimacy... But not like this. She knew me, knew me quite well, what I liked, what I didn't, what shamed and embarrassed me, and also, knew that at times like these, I Needed that shame and embarrassement as a part of my punishment, needed to be purged of my guilt.

"Angela, we don't really need to discuss why you are going to be spanked do we?"

I shook my head no... She gave me 'that' look, drew me closer, and swatted me in the center of my bottom... I gasped from the sharp sting, and made myself answer..

"N-no ma'am, we don't.... I know, and I was wrong, and I'm SOOO sorry, really, I'm sorry...." I wasn't quite crying yet, thankfully, and I saw her look soften at my words, and my tone. There had been no sulky defiance, no acting in an effort to lessen what I was due. My apology, simple as it was, had been sincere. And she knew it. And she didn't draw it out.

She reached out, and pulled my pantyhose down, the smoky nylon binding in an inelegant puddle around my ankles, then, because she knew I thought of this as a punishment, she slowly pulled down the panties I had worn especially for her that day, turning them inside out, leaving them at my knees. And then it was over her lap. It was time for punishment, attonement, love and forgiveness. Unlike other of my punishment spankings, and all of my play spankings, this time, even during the spanking itself, there was no lecture. She knew that I knew what I had done, that I understood. And now, she didn't want a lecture to interfere with my thoughts. CRACK! and it had begun...

Like always, no matter how often I had felt it in the past, it Still came as a shock at how awfully it hurt. First, it took me by surprise, like always. And while I wanted to cry out, the surprise, and sudden sharp pain in my bottom, (the first one, like she almost always did, had landed as close to center as she could make it, crossing both cheeks...) actually caused me to suck air in, instead of letting it out in a squeal. The other surprise, like always, was that there was a sharp quick pain, which was bad enough, but then it suddenly blossomed, grew, expanded! It burned, both on the surface of my now tightened rump, and down deeper... And just as I started to cry out, the second spank landed, no harder, but no less hard, than the first. And that perfectly timed spank, turned my cry into more of a pathetic strangled hoot...

Then the spanking proper started, with Elle varying the pace, and the area that they were landing. Oh, to be sure, she covered all of my ample bottom (although I would be risking another spanking if she heard me call it that, she said it was the perfect size...), first one cheek, then the other, then covering the EXACT same damn spot several times in a row, till I would squeal out, even above the other cries I was uttering, pleading with her to spank some where else.

Until she turned her attentions some where else, like say, my thighs, or my sit spot...

After a VERY short time, I was crying, sobbing, blubbering, begging, pleading for her to stop, for it to be over, promising that I had learned my lesson, that I would be good, that I would listen in the future, that I wouldn't be or act so immaturely... Although I would have sounded more mature, if I hadn't been in the position I was, or attempting to speak in broken stuttering blubbering sentences.... Or for that matter,the rather pathetic attempt I was making at kicking, bound as I was by my own undies at ankle and knee.

And finally it was over. I truly have no idea how long it was, like all spankings at the time it seemed as bad as any I had gotten. It was only later, after I had become aware of the lessing of the discomfort, that I was more able to gauge it against other spankings she had delivered. And this was a medium on the scale, not the softest, and by far not the worst, no blistering or welts or long term deep bruising, but I would be remembering this each time I sat, or bent, or climbed the stairs for the next day or so...

Amazingly, but not missed, I wasn't given corner time, and I wasn't about to question her. Instead, I was pulled onto her lap, fresh roast rump sittin on her lap, those nice slacks suddenly feeling like the coarsest burlap. And my bottom WAS on her lap, not hanging off. I was spared the corner, but she wanted me to remember. I hung my head, buried against her shoulder, sobbing, till finally I realized she was petting my back, and saying all those comforting things one says at such times. She turned my face towards her, and I felt so bad, and she said none of that, that I was Loved and Forgiven, unless I thought I needed more yet... I tearfully, and quickly, told her no ma'am, that I had learned my lesson. My bad feelings had evaporated as soon as she said I was forgiven and loved.

Elle pulled a handkerchief out, and wiped my face, and blew my nose, then wrapped her arms even tighter around me, and kissed me. Kissed me long, hard, deep and lovingly. Till I was gasping and melty inside. And then I was on my feet, and she was taking me into the bedroom, telling me we were still going out tonight, and she would properly comfort me after....

And knowing what was to come, that almost made sitting tolerable....

with love to Elle,
Angie