I stand watching you in total disbelief. You have behaved petulantly all evening, but I allowed you to get away with so much since it was your promotion celebration night. Now I look on as you remove your jacket, dumping it carelessly on the couch, and then wander off to switch on your computer, no doubt to spend the rest of the evening chatting with your pals on irc.

Wrong, young lady, very wrong indeed! I watch quietly as you get connected and begin typing away ten to the dozen, saying Hi to all the other uppity women who are also ignoring their partners on Saturday night.

Walking up behind you, I grip the seat of your chair with both hands and lift both it and you, away from the keyboard. I turn and dump the chair down facing the other way. You stand and turn quickly, spluttering indignantly.  I stare hard, lifting a warning finger.  You stop short, knowing better than to cross me when I am on a roll.

I turn to the keyboard, reaching down to type, sensing you edge closer to peer over my shoulder, eager to see what I am planning to write.

"Please excuse Jennifer for 20 minutes or so folks.   She has behaved badly all night and now I am going to spank her hard.  She may feel like coming back later, but you will need to forgive her because it is hard to type standing up."

As I select the option to change your nick to "away", I see the horrified responses from all your women's lib friends begin to flood the usually serene #LA_Women channel.  Perhaps this will give them something useful to discuss, instead of the usual diet of tittle-tattle and gossip.

I ignore the expected wailing and pleading that my online announcement has triggered from you, and turn to point you in the direction of the bedroom.

"Get yourself in there, young lady. Right now!" My voice carries the hard edge of authority which is usually present when I am not prepared to accept any argument.

"Don't you dare argue with me, madam! Or it will be the worse for you."

I watch your face as a multitude of emotions flicker across it.   Anger, annoyance, persuasion, fury, exhortation, pleading and finally petulance.   You take a step towards the door, but realise that I will be able to block that escape easily, your eyes flicker rapidly around apartment searching out a place of safety.   Finally you settle for tossing your head disdainfully in the air as you turn, an attempt at an unconcerned march into the bedroom, and a slam of the door behind you.

No doubt your mind is also returning to the last (and first) time I had turned you across my lap for a spanking. I had been surprised at how easy it had been to manoeuvre you face down across my knees. I suppose you were taken by surprise, not seriously believing that I would actually carry out what I had threatened to do so often. You had promised you would leave me forever, and I had told you to go, because I was determined that if ever you got that far out of line again, I would not hesitate to repeat the event. I don't know what went on in your mind after that, but you didn't leave, and I didn't find it necessary to give you any more spankings, until now.

I walk across to the firmly closed bedroom door, and speak loudly and clearly through it, "I am going to spank you Jennifer. It will be bare bottom, and it will take place in 15 minutes time. You can either wait for me to come and get you like a naughty little girl. Or you can present yourself for punishment at the appropriate time.   Let me see if you are adult enough to take responsibility for your own actions."

I do not stay to listen to the tirade which my statement provokes, I turn away and settle down in front of the TV, preparing my mind with the details of how I think you deserve to be punished, how I will carry it out, how hard I should smack you and how long for.  I find myself worrying that I may go too far, how will I know when you have had enough?

The program on the TV finishes, drawing my attention to the clock on the mantle-piece. The 15 minutes is just about up, and I prepare to head for the bedroom to collect you. Just as I do, I hear the door open and you step into the room.   I glance at you, and then look again more closely.  Gone is the sophisticated, tightly fitting evening gown, to be replaced with a widely flared short skirt and loose blouse. Your legs are bare and you have left the high-heeled shoes off too. Now you look like a naughty girl about to get a spanking.

"You had better get on with it then", you say sullenly, "if you have to do this. But don't think it will make me respect you because it won't."

Suddenly I realise the truth. You want this as much as I think you deserve it. I remember not being able to figure your mood after the last time, now it all fits into place.  It even explains your recent behaviour, you have been baiting me for days, testing to see if I will spank you, culminating in the shocking display tonight.  Well I don't intend disappointing you, my precious. I remember getting a kick from exerting my control over you last time.  Now I am beginning to look forward to the next half hour.

"Come over here, Jennifer", as I stride across to a straight-back chair and pull it out.

"No! Why should I!" comes your reply, the sulky tone strong and strident.

So that is how it is going to be is it?  I nod to myself, now I know how to judge when you have been smacked enough.  That tone will be gone from your voice before I am finished with you, my sweet.  I reach out and grab your wrist firmly, dragging you resisting across the room. "You will do exactly as you are told, young lady, if you know what is good for you!"

And observations about my parentage are doing nothing to help your cause either!  I pull and tug on your wrist until I am able to sit on the chair, and then tug you closer still.

"You know what happens now, miss.  Get across my knee!"

I ignore your rebellious response and give one final pull on your arm.  As your knees press into my thigh, you finally over-balance and fall forward, bottom up, across my lap in an undignified heap.  I am aroused as your bare legs splay apart and your skirt flies into the air revealing a flash of soft and tender inner thigh and bright red material covering your bottom, before falling back into place.

I wrap my left arm tightly around your waist as you begin to twist and wriggle, yelling and spitting threats and abuse.  I plant my right hand unceremoniously under the swell of your ass and propel your body further across my lap until the balance of your weight is more evenly placed.  One particularly nasty tirade provokes me to land a hard swat across the very centre of your bottom. You yelp and sink your teeth viciously into my thigh.  Unseen by you, I wince, and then respond by whipping a stinging finger-spank across the exposed back of your left thigh.  I feel you take your revenge by gouging your finger nails up my calf, and so I repeat the punishment across the back of your right thigh.

Your hands fly back to protect the offended flesh, just as I wanted, and I am able to pin both wrists into the middle of your back.

"Like it or not, Jennifer"  I begin, "You are here to be spanked, and I am going to do just that."

My speech is interrupted by a fresh torrent of abuse and renewed wrigglings and squirmings.  I land another pair of smacks, one across the back of each thigh over the red finger marks of the first two.  The torrent of abuse is quickly replaced by pleadings and apologies and promises to be good.  But it is all too late.  I am warming to this task and nothing is going to stop me from delivering exactly what I promised you; one hot, red, stinging pair of ass-cheeks and a very sorry young lady.

I rest my open palm on the crest of you upturned bottom, enjoying the feel of your gluteal muscles flex and bunch as you continue to wriggle and kick your legs in ineffectual attempts to escape.  I pat the ripe cheeks affectionately.

"Right then, my girl.  I am going to enjoy this.   You may not be quite so keen. But a spanking is what you deserve and I am not about to disappoint you."

So saying, I reach down the backs of your legs and slide my hand back up under your skirt, finally flicking the hem up over your bottom to reveal the bottom half of my favourite red teddy.  So, I think to myself, that is your game is it? Well, we will see about that later.  For now I feast my eyes on the half-exposed swellings which have been so seductively bared by the wriggling and kicking.  I have to hold on tight as the fresh air on you bum provokes a new round yelling and kicking.

I add to the shuddering movement of your buttocks by patting my palm against them firmly, getting my range and becoming familiar with the feel of palm against wriggling female bottom.  Finally I lift my hand away, not too far, and bring it back to land with a firm splatt against your right cheek ... SMACK!! And quickly followed by a matching strike against your left cheek ... SMACK!!

I hear your voice rise an octave as the sting bites, and then your bottom humps seductively in front of me as you attempt to ease the pain. You alternate between begging and pleading, and then fresh torrents of threats and abuse.   I raise my palm to deliver the next pair of smacks, and quickly add yet another pair, beginning to find a rhythm ...SMACK!! ..SPANK!! .. SPANK!!..SLAP!!... SMACK!!..SPANK!! ..on and on..

As the stinging and redness increase, so does your yelping and wriggling.  It is getting very difficult to hold you, more than once you have nearly landed on the carpet.  Finally I am forced to stop spanking while I get a fresh grip and re-arrange you across my knees.  I hook my right hand around the inside of your left thigh and pull you further onto my knee.  This serves to part your legs temporarily, and the flash of light from your teddy poppers inspires me to bare your bottom properly.  I reach between your thighs but you guess my intentions and scissor your legs closed.  A sharp slap across the red blotches on your thighs re-enforces my point and you relax your legs a little, reluctantly allowing me to pop each fastening open, silking the red cloth up over each reddened cheek. You beg me not to humiliate you further, promising that you have learnt, but I am not convinced.

I take a fresh grip on your wrists, pinning them more tightly into your back.  I push your weight further onto my left leg and swing my right over the back of your knees. This forces your bottom up into greater prominence and pins you tightly in place.

"Now I've got you, my pretty" ... SPANK!!..SMACK!! ... "now we will see just how sorry you can be" ... SPANK!!..SPANK!! ... "are you really sorry, Jennifer?" ... SMACK!! .. "hmmm?" ... SLAPP!! ... "are you?" ... SMACK!!..SPANK!!

I stop to slide my palm across your red hot buttocks, giving you time to stifle the uncontrollable sobs which have taken over from the yelling, time to convince me that you really have learnt your lesson.  My thoughts turn to the effect that all this is having on my nether regions, and to the effect that a thorough spanking had on you last time. I wonder if the effect has been the same now? The strokes and caresses of my hand spread deeper between your thighs, it is very warm down there, and yes, yes! Unmistakably very wet and slippery between your vulva.

I begin to spank you again, but this time it is slowly and lovingly.  I can feel you respond to the thrill of my hot palm against your skin, you seem to push your bottom up to meet each smack and slap, I relax my grip on your wrists and legs, watching as your thighs slide slackly apart, welcoming, inviting...

Finally I can wait no longer. The pressure of your body against my crotch is becoming painful, and the heady scent of aroused female turns my mind to other pursuits.  I reach my arms under your prostrate body and stand, carrying you face down into the bedroom, and placing you tenderly on the bed .....