Christy is a nice young lady. I've known her since she was a kid, watched her grow sort of thing. I've helped her out a couple of times, contributed towards the cost of a fridge for her when she moved into her own unit, paid for some occasional phone credit, little things like that. There has never been any sort of sexual relationship between us. I've always thought of her as young Christy, a nice kid.
Tell me, do you save your odd change in money boxes? I do. I have two. A large tin for smaller change and a small tin for any one and two dollar coins I may get. I find it's a useful way to give out the occasional present, and my assorted nieces and nephews know that if their birthday falls conveniently close to a full tin, they'll get the tin as a present. I've always included Christy and her sister in this giveaway, as honorary nieces.
Then came a day when I just had to nip down the street for something. Nothing important, just getting some milk and the paper, I think. I only expected to be gone for about five minutes, so I didn't even bother to lock the house.
And five minutes was all that I was. As I came back, I saw Christy's car parked outside. She wasn't there, so I assumed that she would have gone in and be waiting for me. I expected she was hoping to hit me up for some spare cash to get some phone credit. That girl sure likes talking on the phone.
So I pull into the garage and wander inside. There was no-one in the kitchen, so I headed towards the front room, expecting to see her there. Empty, but I heard a noise from my bedroom. Walked in and there was Christy, coming out of my walk-in robe, carrying the small money box, which would have been about half full.
It was patently obvious that she hadn't heard me return, and when she saw me she blushed the deepest red I've ever seen on someone's face and dropped the box.
Now I suppose that you're thinking I'd be pretty pissed off about this, but oddly enough I found myself amused, more than anything. Christy had been caught red-handed and didn't know what to do. She couldn't even scream and run, because I was standing in the doorway.
(I suppose that I should admit to a little irritation, but that was only because of that damned money box. Even half empty, it was fairly heavy, and when Christy dropped it, it landed on one edge and split. Coins went everywhere, and they'd be a real pain, scratching them all together and putting them in a new box.)
Christy looked at me and then looked away, anywhere but at me.
"Um, ah, William, I'm sorry. I know you're mad, but I can explain," she said, speaking really fast.
I admit I was curious about how she was going to try to talk her way out of this one, but decided not to bother.
"Don't worry about it," I told her, cutting off her explanations. "I'm not mad at you. Slightly disappointed, possibly, but that's all."
"Really?" she asked, surprised.
"Really," I said. "Now why don't you take off your jeans and panties and bend over the bed for your spanking?"
"Wh-what?" she asked me.
I knew that she'd heard what I said, so I didn't bother to repeat it. I just stood there smiling and waiting.
Christy slowly digested my words, then looked at the bed and then back to me.
"You said you weren't mad," she pointed out nervously.
"I'm not," I told her. "But you've stuffed up and I think a little discipline is called for, don't you?"
"But I don't want to get spanked," she told me, as though that would be a big surprise.
"I'd like to say I don't want to have to spank you," I returned, "but I'd be lying. I'm going to enjoy it. Now hurry up with the jeans, or do you want me to do it for you."
Her hands went slowly to her waist, but she hadn't given up yet.
"Why do I need to take my jeans down? You can spank me with them on, if you're really going to make a fuss about this."
"I'm really going to make a fuss about this and you're jeans have to come off because I told you to take them off. Your panties, too, remember?"
Her jeans came off, slowly. I find it strange that women can even put them on, they seem to be so tight. I've sometimes wondered if they don't just glue the material to their legs. It was highly entertaining watching Christy remove them.
Finally they were off, but she made no move to take down her panties. I gestured with a finger, indicating that they should be coming off, but Christy just shook her head.
"Christy, one of us is going to remove them. Do you want to find yourself bent over the bed while I slowly pull them down?"
She tossed a nasty look at me, but gave in. Turning away so that I couldn't see her pussy, she slipped them off. She had a really cute bottom. It was going to be both a pleasure and a pity, what I was going to do to it.
Reluctantly, Christy bent over the bed, bum nicely presented. I don't know why she'd bothered to turn away and hide her pussy when she took her panties off, because the way she was bent over, legs slightly apart, I now had an excellent view of that pussy.
I'm not sure if I fully intended what followed, but in my own defence I'd like to point out that Christy really shouldn't have tried to abscond with my money box.
My hand came down with a ringing spank on Christy's plump little bottom, to be met with a squeal of pain and a protest.
"Not so hard, William," she wailed. "That really hurt."
"Good," I said, delivering another hard spank. "It's supposed to."
I landed another half a dozen good solid spanks, with Christy squealing and protesting and wriggling her bottom around, a bottom that was rapidly developing a nice red glow.
I'm not sure exactly when the change came about. It seemed to me that I was warming up to give a good solid spanking to a protesting and crying young lady, and then she was no longer protesting.
That wasn't to say she was now suffering in silence. Not this girl.
Her squeals continued, but her protests changed. Now they were going something like this.
"Oh, god, I'm sorry. I was stupid. I deserve this, spank me harder. Harder please. God, yes. Sorry, I'm really sorry. Harder. You need to punish me properly. I'm sorry, truly I am. Spank me good, won't you."
