A Good Girl

I was just bumming around the house on a Saturday afternoon, watching the game on the TV. The game was, quite frankly, boring. Two second rate teams putting on a second rate performance, with me being too lazy to turn the television off and actually do something. The knock on the door came as a welcome relief. It meant I had to get up off my blot.

I answered the door and Clare was standing there. Let me tell you about Clare. She was the epitome of the local good girl, the one held up as a shining example to all the other children in the neighbourhood. She attended school diligently and applied herself to the lessons. She never got in trouble at school or at home, always being polite and obedient. While not brilliant she was quite intelligent, and passed all her exams easily enough, a result of all that diligent studying.

Clare was quite pretty, looked to be reasonably fit, and had what I consider a good figure. She was also sociable and generally well liked by everyone. She had been a Girl Scout since she was a kid and the reason she was at my door was that she was selling Girl Scout cookies. How sweet. A fine girl in every aspect, everyone agrees.

I can't stand her.

"Afternoon, Clare," I greeted her. "Come on in and show me your wares."

She trotted into the front room and promptly laid out half a dozen boxes of different types of cookies, none of which I wanted.

"You're still in the Scouts?" I said, making it a question. For some reason I thought she'd moved on from that.

"No, not really," she told me. "I gave that up when I turned eighteen, but they asked me to help out with the cookie drive. Fortunately my uniform still fits me."

It fitted all right. Like a glove. A rather tight glove. Somehow I don't think Clare realised just how snugly that uniform fitted her.

"It figures that they'd draft you," I said. "Always willing to lend a hand aren't you. As a matter of curiosity have you ever done the wrong thing?"

She blinked at the question, puzzled.

"Well, of course," she said. "Everyone makes mistakes."

"I'm not talking about making a mistake," I elaborated. "I mean have you ever gone out and done something that you know you shouldn't? Like liberate a packet of chips from the shop when no-one is watching."

"What? No, of course not. I wouldn't deliberately do something wrong. Why would I want to?"

"Just for the hell of it. Don't you get tired of being the local good girl? I bet you've never even received a spanking in your entire life, have you?"

"A spanking? No. My parents never considered it necessary to do that. They'd explain if I was doing something I shouldn't and I'd stop doing it. There was no need for violence."

"A spanking isn't really violence. It's just chastising a child with a little negative reinforcement. Does wonders with some children. All children should have at least one spanking to remember. Helps to keep them on the straight and narrow."

"Well, I've never needed one and I think I've turned out OK," said Clare, her tone of voice saying the subject was now closed.

Unfortunately I was in a contrary mood. Her Little Miss Goodie behaviour was really irking me. Petty of me, I know, but I was still irked.

"It seems to me," I said, rubbing my chin and trying to look thoughtful, "that you just don't know what you've missed. Even at your current age a nice spanking would be just the thing to keep you on the correct path."

"Not going to happen," was the firm reply.

"Not if it's up to your parents," I agreed, "but I'm a good sport. I don't mind filling in for them for a few minutes."

By the time that seeped into her consciousness it was too late. I was already sitting on the couch and pulling her across my knee. She started struggling but way too late; she was lying across my lap with my hand on the small of her back holding her firmly in place. Before she could finish saying don't you dare my hand came down hard where her skirt was stretched tight across her rump.

"But I haven't done anything," she wailed as my hand came down a second time. "This isn't fair."

"Life's not fair," I pointed out, giving her a couple more paddles. "Haven't you figured that out yet?"

I paused the spanking for a moment.

"This silly Girl Scout skirt is too thick. You can't get the full effects with that there. Excuse me for a moment."

With that I pushed her skirt up over her bottom, freeing the playing field as it were. I must admit that I was slightly surprised to see the type of undies she wore. I'd always assumed that a good girl would wear granny panties. Not so.

"Nice panties," I murmured, giving the material a slight tug.

"They're lace and they're expensive," Clare snapped at me. "If you damage them I'll strangle you. Let me up."

"I have a better idea. I'll just make sure your panties are not in a position to get damaged."

There followed a very indignant squeal as I pushed her panties down to where they'd be safe.

"You can't do that," she wailed at me.

"Yes I can. You just saw me do it," I pointed out as my hand came down on her now naked bottom. "This is a much better way to receive a spanking isn't it?"

Women can be contrary creatures. Clare disagreed with my assessment, seeming to think the spanking was a rotten idea. She actually called it that. A rotten idea. Childish terminology in my opinion. Maybe a little variation would help her adjust to the idea.

Now there's not much variation you can give a spanking. A bottom does only have two cheeks, after all. Fortunately there is also that nicely shaped love mound right there next to the bottom, just the right size and shape for a hand to cover it.

Clare had been protesting and complaining about the standard spanking but that paled into insignificance next to the squawk she gave when my hand land smartly on her pudenda.

It was a case of SCREAM and "What do you think you're doing?"

"Sorry," I said, quick with the apology. "My hand didn't mean to land there."

I gave her mound a quick rub to ease the sting. Would you believe she protested over that as well?

"Just trying to ease the sting," I pointed out. "If you don't want me to you only have to say. Now, where were we?"

My hand came down smartly on her bottom again, distracting her from the accidental assault upon her pussy. At least, it distracted her up until my hand landed there again.

There was no scream this time, just a sharp intake of breath and a protest pointing out that I was doing that on purpose.

"What? This?" I asked, hand coming down with a sting on sensitive flesh.

"Yes, that. Don't do it."

"But it's all part of the mystique of having a man spank you," I pointed out. "Um, how does it feel, especially knowing that your, ah, bottom is bare and that the man can see everything."

I was quite surprised at her reaction. Up until that time I don't think she had even considered there was anything sexual about what was happening. She gave a shocked sounding gasp and clamped her legs together tightly.

"Now you're being silly," I told her, resting my hand on her bottom. "Your legs might be together but the way you're bent over means that you're still exposed here."

I gave her a gentle poke to indicate where she was still exposed.

"Actually, I think you'll find that you can't keep your legs together like that while you're being spanked. It's just natural to let them drift apart in the hope of distracting me. Women tend to think that the man would rather rub then here than spank them."

I gently rubbed so that she understood exactly what I meant. I believe that one should give a demonstration when explaining something.

She started squirming again and with a sigh I swung her back to her feet. She stood there clutching at her bottom and glaring at me.

"You had no damn right to do that. You're an animal," she snapped.

"I know, but I enjoyed it. Take off your uniform."

"What?"

"Your uniform. Take it off."

"Why on earth should I take off my uniform?"

"Because I want you to. It's not like you're going to take it off without me asking, so I'm asking. Seems reasonable to me."

"Why?"

"Why? You're kidding, right? So I can see you naked, of course. Why would you think? It's not such a big ask when you consider how much I've already seen. Besides, you want to."

"I want to? What makes you think I want to?"

"Natural feminine curiosity and pride. A man has just spanked you and now wants to see you naked. You're wondering what it will be like to show him."

"Ha! If I did take it off what's to stop you from making a pass and groping me."

"Geez, grow up a bit girl. Once you've taken it off I'm going to lie you down on the floor and take you. I'm not some teenager groping and making passes. Now, the uniform."

She was giving me a rather strange look.

"Do you really think I'm going to take off my clothes and let you make love to me? I don't do that sort of thing."

"Why not? Is it part of your good girl image? You really will have to shake that tag and now's a good time to start."

Reaching over I pushed her panties, which were still at knee level, down to her ankles. A tap on an ankle and she stepped out of them. I ran my hand up the inside of her leg, not stopping until I reached a point where her legs were pressed together.

"Move your legs a little, there's a good girl," I murmured, continuing to lift my hand when she did so until I was cupping her mound.

I gave her a gentle rub, one finger probing gently between her lips. Then I sat back again.

"The uniform," I prompted.

She swallowed nervously and started undoing it. Once she started it didn't take long and she was standing there, naked, bar her sneakers.

I couldn't really believe it. A lovely young thing was standing in front of me expecting me to make love to her. There was no way I was going to decline. I reached out and took her arm, gently pulling her down onto my lap. She was trembling slightly but she sat still.

I didn't grab. I moved easily, slipping my hand over her breast, letting the weight of it rest in my palm. Her nipples were erect, a sign that the spanking had aroused her whether she realised it or not, and I rolled one around under my thumb. She was breathing harder. At least, she was when she wasn't holding her breath.

I gently pleasured her breasts, and could almost feel them swell under my touch. I turned her head towards me and brushed my lips against hers. From there I let my lips drift down, running along the line of her neck until I reached the curve of her bosom. My mouth closed over a nipple at the same time as my hand slipped between her legs and cupped her mound.

Again, it was time for gentling her, letting her get accustomed to my touch. I could feel the heat inside her and it wasn't long before she was moving restlessly, wanting something more. When my fingers slipped between her lips and stroked her internally I could feel her holding her breath again.

That didn't last long. A delicate probe near her clitoris and she let out her breath in a startled gasp. Now her restlessness was becoming more pronounced and she wanted more.

I'm a fairly strong man and she was reasonably petite. I just lifted her up and placed her on the rug, laying her out before me. Standing over her I stripped, watching her watching me as I did so. Naked, I settled down onto the rug beside her.

I didn't say anything. Speaking would break the spell and might make her panic. I just lay there, one hand stroking her breast while I slipped my foot between her ankles and gently drew her legs further apart.

Back to massaging her pudenda, rubbing slowly but firmly, letting the sensations I was raising sink deeper into her. She was breathing hard again and there was no resistance as I moved her legs even further apart. Then I was kneeling between her thighs, my erection poised above her, then just touching her.

Fingers at her slit, easing it apart and slipping inside. Fingers out again, but still parting her lips, and then I was pressing the head of my cock against her, pushing past her lips and into her. She gave a small gasp as I started entering and then fell silent, watching.

The head of my cock had barely started into her when I lost control. Not of myself, but of her. My intention was to take it nice and slow, doing my best not to hurt her for this first time. It turned out that her intention was 'I want it, and I want it now'.

She heaved up against me, pushing hard, literally nailing herself to my cock. She gave a slight yelp as her virginity fell by the wayside but that didn't stop her as she kept pushing up against me, taking me deep. I was startled to find myself all the way inside her before I had a chance to do anything.

She said, "Oh, my," in a very satisfied voice, and her legs came up and wrapped around me while her arms were clutching my shoulders, holding me tight against her. I could feel her rubbing her breasts against me, relishing the feel of skin on skin. (Where her breasts were concerned I suspect it was more a case of skin on fur. I have a very hairy chest.)

Now if I had considered the situation I would have thought that at this stage I'd be coaxing her past any tears and moving slowly, just teasing her arousal back to life. Instead of which I found myself swearing internally and trying to slow her down. She wanted to go hell for leather from the moment I entered her.

I held her tight, quietly suggesting that she relax a little and let me do the running. After all, I knew what to do and she was just going on instinct. (And she had one hell of an instinct.) I managed somehow, finally getting a nice easy rhythm going, listening to her appreciative sounds and ignoring her demands to go faster.

It seemed like only seconds passed and she was ready to climax. It was probably a bit more than that but she had a way of making time contract around us. I was still going nicely but Clare was getting frantic, tossing her head and demanding I finish things as she couldn't stand this much longer.

She could, even if reluctantly. I didn't hurry and by a concerted effort I was able to keep her simmering just below the boiling point while I took my fill of her. When her pleas turned to threats (quite ugly ones, too) I decided that perhaps it was time to move along. I drove in harder, deliberately pushing her towards her climax.

It turned out that a very small push was all that was required, with Clare almost exploding with the first really hard thrust, her whole body straining up against me as she shuddered and squalled her release.

We lay on the rug afterwards. I was spent. She looked awfully smug.

"So," she says, "how many packets of cookies do you want to buy?"

My immediate thought was none. That was not the reply I gave.

"I'm not sure," I told her. "Not that it makes any difference right now as I've no money on me. Why don't you come back tomorrow? I'll have had a chance to go to the ATM by then."

"OK," she said thoughtfully. "I was planning on going out selling tomorrow so I can swing past here first."

That was a fine idea. I wondered how many of those damn cookies I'd finish up having to buy. I wondered what would happen when she swung past the next day. Just how far would she go to persuade me to buy? I trusted she would put some real effort into it.