Author: The Naughty Gaffer brndtag at mcn.net.
Please use “Story Comments” in subject line if you send e-mail.
Title: Chelsea Bumps My Car  
Keywords: M/f, spank, 1st
Summary: A A naughty teen girl gets spanked. Several times.

I heard the clank as I was clipping the lilac bush at the side of the house. There was a slight squeal of tire, a scraping sound and then the clank. It sure sounded like someone had smacked a car.
I came around the corner just as the young girl got back into her car and swung across the street to park in front of her own house. I waited a moment, hanging back a little, and I saw her check the front quarter of her little truck. She looked relieved when she couldn’t see any damage, but she didn’t see what I saw – the branch of juniper that was stuck under her front bumper. Then she ran into her house.
I went over to where my Honda sat in the driveway. Sure enough, a branch was torn off the juniper and there was a slight rub mark on the Honda’s bumper. No harm done, but I was vexed that this girl would bump my car and take off without talking to me.
I thought about the girl in question for a minute or two. Her name was Chelsea – I’d heard her father call her that. She’d been a child when I bought the house and I hardly saw her the first couple of years I lived there. In the last year, as a high-school kid, she’d been out a lot more. She was a tomboy to the core. I hadn’t seen her outside without her baseball cap for at least a year or two. She always wore baggy T-shirts or sweatshirts. Her pants were either sweatpants or denim that hung very loosely on her. But I could see enough in her face, in her lower legs and her arms, to know she had to be slender. I was sure there was a pretty girl under those sacks of clothing. I had no idea why she dressed like that. I knew she was athletic – she played front-yard football with the neighborhood boys, rode a bike or a scooter much of the time. Her driver’s license probably wasn’t even dry from the printer yet.
She seemed a nice enough kid. She’d smile as I drove past or when I was working on my yard. When I heard her and her friends, they were roughhousing but they didn’t do a lot of swearing or anything. And this little incident didn’t prove she wasn’t a good kid – what teenager was going to volunteer that she’d clipped my car if it looked like she could get away with it?
Especially with her dad. I had heard his voice raised gruffly and hers in a scared voice sometimes, in summer when the windows would be open. And at least once, out on an evening stroll, I had heard their voices, a sound I took to be a hand on bare skin (I assume her bottom) and high-pitched squealing. In fact, that had only been a couple of months ago.
Chelsea came out of her house while I was looking at the Honda and then the bush. “Did something happen?” she asked in a voice a little higher than her usual voice. I looked at her: long hair hanging from the blue cap, pert little nose and chin, a slight fold of flesh under the chin like a lot of young girls have. Her eyes were blue and she was looking me square in the chin, I was amused to see.
“Well, I heard a tire squeal and then I heard a thump,” I said. “So I came to see what was up.”
”Yeah, I heard it too,” Chelsea said, looking lower than my chin. She was wearing a sleeveless T-shirt, loose as always, but her breasts were pushing a little against it. I didn’t see any bra straps under the cloth across her shoulders. She had on her usual baggy denim shorts and a pair of sandals. I saw she wasn’t completely tomboy – her toenails were painted alternating red and blue. How patriotic.
“Then I saw the bush here, and there’s this rub mark on the Honda.” I looked directly at her and got only her profile. She was looking at anything except right in my eye. I was feeling a little annoyed still but I was kind of amused, too. How far could she face it out?
“So I figure someone must have hit my car,” I said, and her face was working fiercely. I decided to give her the coup de grace. I walked over to her truck, across the street, and I plucked the piece of juniper from under the bumper. I brought it back and held it in front of the bush. It was an obvious match.
Chelsea finally looked right at me. Her chin quivered and there was a drop at the corner of one eye. She wasn’t a lot shorter than me, but she did look very young and small just then.
“Are you going to tell me what happened, Chelsea?” I asked firmly. “You see, I saw you check my car and then drive across the street.”
Her chin quivered again and she answered me in a voice that she probably hadn’t used since she was twelve. “I’m so-so-sorry, Mr. Rob - Robinson,” she stammered out. “I knew my dad would have a cow if I had to tell him I’d hit something. He’d kill me!”
“I don’t know that he’d do anything fatal, Chelsea,” I said. “But you’ll be in a lot more trouble when I tell him you were going to just pretend it hadn’t happened.” 
“He’ll blister my butt if he finds out,” Chelsea whimpered. “He said if I got into any trouble with my truck, he’d tan my butt and ground me for a month.” Obviously not having her truck to sit in bothered her more than not being able to sit.
“I think your dad has the right idea,” I said. “When you’re careless with a car, you could get somebody hurt or you could damage something seriously. You got lucky this time – no real harm done. But your dad would want you to learn a lesson from this.”
“You don’t know how my dad would teach me that lesson,” Chelsea moaned.
“Yes, I think I do,” I said. “Wasn’t there a curfew problem about a month ago?”
She looked at me with huge eyes. “You heard that? When my dad was…” Her mouth fell open – a sweet look of shock.
“Spanking you,” I said. “Yes, your window was open that night and I just happened to be going by.”
“You heard me when my dad was spanking me?” she gasped again.
“I couldn’t really help it,” I said. “I suppose he’d probably spank you again over this little problem.”
She hung her head again. “He’ll fix me good. I won’t be able to sit for the rest of today and I won’t get to drive for a month. Look, you said that the car was okay. Maybe you don’t have to tell my dad.” A month to a sixteen-year-old seems like forever, doesn’t it?
I had wondered for months what exactly was under the loose shirts and baggy pants. Here was my chance. I could bail her out of her problem with her dad and still teach her a lesson that I would enjoy giving her – if she decided to do things my way.
“Chelsea, I’m quite annoyed with what you did today. And I think your dad would want to know about it. He has his own ideas about discipline, I’m sure.”
“Yeah, I’m sure too,” Chelsea said, her voice very small now. She was looking twelve again.
“I’ll tell you what, Chelsea. Someone has to deal with this. It can be your dad or it can be me. You’re going to be rubbing your bottom either way, but you can decide which of us is going to handle it.”
”What do you mean?” she asked, her eyes huge again.
“You know what you deserve – for being careless, for sneaking away, then for lying to me about it all. I’m betting your dad would raise welts on you.”
“He might even use his belt,” she said softly.
“And I’m betting you’d get it bare.”
She couldn’t look me in the eye that time, but she nodded with her face lowered, looking at her breasts. I was surprised to se that the little points were pressing harder against the jersey material. The shirt was white and thin and I could actually make out a slight tan line under the cloth. Her hands were behind her now, clasped over the seat of her pants.
“Well, you can wait and see what your dad does. Or you can come in with me and get your punishment over with right now. I’ll probably be a little easier on you than your dad would be, but you should know I’m going to use about the same treatment. But I promise I’ll only use my hand.”
“You wouldn’t spank me, would you?” she asked, looking straight in my face again. She saw that I certainly would. “You wouldn’t…you wouldn’t spank me bare, would you?”
She could read it in my face, but I wanted to be sure she knew what she was agreeing to do. “You bet I will. I have some ideas about discipline myself. After all, that’s what you’re in for if you wait for your dad.”
Chelsea looked down again, her clasped hands pressing hard against her bottom. She was obviously scared of the punishment I would give her – and with good reason – but she was more afraid of her father. She probably figured she’d have some chance to sweet-talk me out of some of her punishment. Which, in fact, she probably could.
I put my hand on her shoulder. “It’s up to you, Chelsea. If you want me to deal with it, I will, and it will be over. Or I can take it up with your dad.”
That did it. Biting her lip and with a little tear in the corner of her eye, she nodded. I walked her over to the front door, into the house and into my bedroom.
She looked around her like a scared animal. But I could also see a kind of excitement in her eye, feel a little tremor in her shoulder that seemed more like eagerness than fear. In fact, she actually sped up as we approached the bedroom and I sat on the bed with her facing me.
“Chelsea, we’re going to do this my way and I expect you to obey me. Remember, you’re the one who got yourself into this mess and I expect you to accept your punishment now. Do you understand?” She nodded. “Then take off your hat.”
She put the hat on my dresser and shook her head. Her hair was long, silky, a honey-brown color. Her face had the dewy freshness that makeup would only have lessened. I watched, concealing my pleasure as she pulled her hair back and put it over her shoulders.
“Stand here,” I said, and I drew her to my right side. I was sitting on the bed and she was at my thigh. Her breasts seemed to have gained a cup size between the front door and the bedroom, her nipples firm and tight against her shirt.
“I’m going to do the first part of your spanking over your jeans,” I said.
“The first part?” she squealed.
“The first part. Depending on how well you take your punishment, I’ll decide how the next part goes. You’re going to get a bare-bottom session before we’re done. But how long, and just when, depends on your cooperation. Do you understand that?”
“Yes,” she muttered. The gleam was back in her eye – definitely excitement with the scared feeling. It wasn’t really fear, just apprehension of the spanking that she knew would hurt.
“No hands across your bottom, now. Don’t fight too hard, although I’m sure you’re going to squirm some. And no bad language or trying to bite or anything like that, you understand? If you do that, you’ll be very sorry.”
“This is just between you and me?”
“As long as you let me finish your punishment.” She nodded acquiescence.
“All right, then. Here we go.” I pulled Chelsea over my lap and pulled her shirt up above her waist. Her weight over my lap pressed against my stiffening cock. The jeans had a high waist and that silly crotch well down her thighs. They were loose, too loose to allow for an effective punishment, but this was just to give her an idea anyway. I swatted her bottom firmly and she jumped and squealed. “Ouch!” I swatted her jeans about ten more times, firmly but softer than I planned to do shortly, and she jumped and yelped each time. But she was keeping her word – she didn’t try to cover up and she didn’t try to get away, just squirmed in my lap. I hoped she didn’t feel my cock pushing against her side, although it seemed to me she could hardly miss it. Well, I would try to keep her mind occupied.
After ten swats and yelps, I helped Chelsea to her feet. “You did that part very well,” I said. “If you hadn’t, I would have added five swats to the next part. Now take off your jeans and put them on the chair.”
Her chin quivered and her hands shook a little, so I helped her with the snap and the zipper. The jeans tumbled to the floor and she bent over to get them off her feet. As I had suspected, her bending over revealed rounded, athletic thighs – not skinny but strong and healthy. Her loose shirt was too long for me to see her panties when she stepped out of the jeans and then picked them up and put them on the chair, but I could see the outlines and the faint blue color through the white material.
Chelsea stepped back into place and put her hands over her bottom again. Her tan legs were smooth and round below the shirt, down to the sandals. I looked at her feet and said, “Chelsea, slip the sandals off too.” She used her toes to slip them off, staying in her position by my thigh.
Her breasts were still high and pointed under her shirt. I had seen quite clearly, while she was over my lap, that the skin under the shirt was smooth – no bra in the way. So when she was lying over my lap, most of her weight supported by the mattress, her breasts were rubbing against the jersey material and the bedspread. That had probably helped those little nips stand up so tall and proud, along with her excitement.
I knew she was more turned on than scared now, but I would do something about that in a moment. I could sense her excitement at displaying herself, her arousal at the handling of her bottom. Well, I was enjoying it too, as long as she learned her lesson. So I pulled her back over my lap. She was pressing herself down against the mattress and against my lap, feeling actually heavier against me than during the first spanking. I lifted her shirt well above her waist – high enough that I could see where the bikini had been and where the bra was not – and now I could really see her figure.
It was as pretty as I’d hoped, slim, the bottom firm and round and fully packed, as the saying goes. Her panties were light blue with darker blue flowers printed on them. I have kind of a thing for panties – I have a hell of a thing for panties – and hers were cut just so – low on the leg and low on the waist, barely covering her now that the shirt was out of the way.
I spanked her cute round bottom over the light blue panties and she yelped again – yelped much more sincerely, because I’d put a little mustard on this spank. “Huh?” I heard her say and I paused.
“What is it, Chelsea?”
“I thought I had to get a bare spanking,” she said. There was a catch in her voice; she obviously not only expected a bare spanking, she wanted it.
“I’m running this spanking, Chelsea. I’ll do it the way I think best. That means five more spanks on your panties right now, then I’ll pick up where I left off. Understand?”
Chelsea nodded, looking at me from where she was lying on the bed. I pulled a pillow from under the bedspread and gave it to her. “Hold onto this if you want,” I said. “You’re going to need it.” She nodded, a touch of scared look coming back into her eyes.
I gave her five fast spanks – “Ouch! Ouch!” – and then I said, “This is where I left off. You had ten spanks on your jeans and one on your panties, now you’ll have another nineteen on your panties for an even twenty – if there are no more interruptions. Interruptions are priced at five spanks – but the next interruption will be paid off when you get your bare spanking.”
I got to about fifteen of the nineteen I felt she needed on her panties when she squirmed so hard she almost fell off. She was whimpering a little and crying sometimes because I was being more firm with my hand than I had been on her jeans. Her bottom was getting warmed thoroughly now. But her squirming was only partly from the stinging. I could tell she was also aroused and getting more turned on as we went along. Anyway, after she almost squirmed off my lap, I paused.
“Chelsea, you get four more on your panties and you just got five more on your bare bottom. Try to hang on.” I gave her the four spanks, then I rubbed her panties a minute to take a little sting out.
Chelsea was gasping and whimpering but not really crying now. I waited until she caught her breath and then I asked her, “How does your dad handle a bare spanking?”
She looked up at me from the pillow. “Sometimes he just pulls my panties down,” she said, “but sometimes he…”
“Sometimes he does what?” I asked.
“Sometimes he makes me take off everything if he’s really mad. Sometimes when he does that he makes me bend over the bed and then he uses his belt.” 
“All right, then. You know you did something very wrong and very irresponsible today, don’t you?” Chelsea nodded on the pillow.
“Then I think it’s only right that you have the second-most severe punishment your father might use.”
“But I have to take off all my clothes?” she asked. Her voice was kind of scared but it was a lot more turned on. She wanted to show off. “Take off all my clothes and get spanked bare?”
“Yes, you do,” I answered. “Take off everything and get ready for a bare-naked spanking.” I helped her stand up. She faced me as she pulled her T-shirt over her head, her breasts bare now and flushed with eagerness, her nipples looking almost painful in their tightness. She put the shirt on top of her jeans and put her hands on the waistband of her panties. Then she turned away from me and started to pull her panties down. I put my hand on hers to stop her and I pulled them down myself, exposing the firm, round bottom with a pink color from the treatment she’d already gotten. Then she finished pulling her panties down and turned back to me. Her soft triangle of down was the same honey color as her hair.
I didn’t keep her waiting, though. I pulled her back over my lap – she pretty much jumped back over my lap. Her smooth back, her bare bottom and her naked legs were a sumptuous feast across my lap. The tan lines from her bikini bottom were like panties themselves, except that I could feel the smooth warmth under my hand. But I had stern duty to perform.
“Here are the five you earned by squirming too hard,” I said, and I gave her five firm spanks on her bare skin. Her bottom quivered a little as I spanked her. Then I gave her twenty more solid spanks, actually less hard than when I was spanking her panties but still plenty to give her something to think about.
And she was thinking about something, all right. She quivered and her bottom quivered and she pressed her belly against my legs while she pressed her breasts against the bedspread. Finally I decided she’d had enough and I’d seen enough.
“Chelsea, I’m done with your spanking,” I said. “I’m just going to rub a little of the sting out. I hope you got a real lesson from this.”
”I did,” she whimpered softly as I finished rubbing her soft bare bottom.
“I think I’ll give you a few minutes to catch your breath,” I said, and I slipped out of the room. But even from the living room I could tell by the sounds how she was catching her breath. She came out about five minutes later, dressed, a little sweaty and flushed.
“I hope I won’t have to do anything like that again,” I said.
“I hope not,” Chelsea answered, but I could tell by the look in her eye that she might hope I would.

The next episode with Chelsea was probably about six months later. She had remained her friendly self, smiling and waving whenever I went by. Her clothes had changed a little – she tended to wear better-fitting tops and pants and to show a little figure. Maybe it was the boys at school.
I was shoveling snow on a Saturday afternoon after a morning flurry. I had my driveway cleared and was just finishing the sidewalk when Chelsea came across from her house.
“Hi, Mr. Robinson,” she said in a slightly squeaky voice.
“Hello, Chelsea,” I answered cheerfully. She was pretty much covered in a parka and sweatpants.
“Can I ask you something?” she said shyly.
“You can ask almost anything,” I said. “I might not answer.”
“Mr. Robinson, do you remember when I bumped your Honda?” she asked. 
“Yes, I do,” I said. “I hope you remember what became of you after that.”
She was looking down but she was smiling and she had a twinkle in her eye. “I sure do,” she answered. “Mr. Robinson, sometimes I start thinking…I start thinking funny things.”
“What do you mean?” I asked as I scooped the last snow off the sidewalk and leaned on the shovel. My breath was hanging in the cold air and I saw fast puffs coming from Chelsea’s lips from her rapid breathing.
“I mean that I think about how you spanked me that day. It made me feel funny – really good and excited. Do you know what I mean?”
“Well, it was supposed to be a punishment, Chelsea. Didn’t it hurt?”
“It did!” she said quickly. “And I’ve been real careful driving ever since! But it still made me feel that funny way. And I feel funny whenever I think about what happened.”
“You’re between a girl and a woman, you know.” I remembered that Chelsea didn’t have a woman in the house to talk with. I didn’t know what the story was with her mother.  “I would think you’d ask your mom about that.”
“My mom died when I was about six,” Chelsea said.
“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to say something to hurt you,” I said. My feet were getting cold.
“Oh, no, Mr. Robinson, you didn’t. I mean, you probably figured my parents were divorced.”
“Well, that’s the usual reason a woman isn’t with her children.”
“So I can’t talk to my mom and my dad doesn’t really know any women I want to talk to.”
“Chelsea, come on in if you want. I’m freezing solid out here,” I said. She followed me into the house and I started heating some water. “Look at that,” I said. “The thermometer’s at eight below.”
“I didn’t know it was that cold,” Chelsea said. She looked around and I said, “If you want to talk and have a cup of cocoa, just take your coat off and set a spell.” She hung the parka on the coat tree next to my coat and she sat at the kitchen table.
She was silent and I was silent while I made the cocoa and brought it to the table. I sat and looked at Chelsea – a woman-child of great beauty. Her breasts were noticeably and pleasantly larger than when I’d had her in the house before and I realized she must be seventeen now. I sat with my best open look and waited for her to say something.
“Anyway, Mr. Robinson, I’ve been thinking about … about what happened when I hit your car ever since then.”
“You were supposed to remember it so you’d drive carefully, but that was all,” I said and smiled.
“But I think about it almost every day. Almost every night, really.” She was looking deep into her cup and her voice trembled a little. Her breasts were pushing against her top and I could se the nipples behind a bra. I’d never known her to wear a bra before and I couldn’t help saying something.
“Chelsea, you’re beginning to think of yourself as a woman. I see you’re finally wearing a bra.”
She blushed and looked down, her hair falling over her cheeks and a smile lighting up her face. “I know, Mr. Robinson. I didn’t need one until a couple of months ago. I don’t wear one all the time, but mostly I wear one now.”
“Congratulations,” I said and she smiled again. “But what do you really want to talk about? And why me instead of your dad?”
“Because he’s my dad. He’s got to set the rules and I have to be his daughter and I can’t get myself to talk to him like this. You’re a little more like an uncle or something.”
“So I’m safe. But wouldn’t you rather talk with a woman? A school counselor or a teacher?”
“No,” she said firmly. “Not about this. You saw me…saw me naked. You saw something I never did before.”
“I saw that because of your misbehavior, Chelsea.”
“I know, but that makes you different from anyone else. See, ever since then, whenever I think about you spanking me, I feel funny.” She said it very slowly and I nodded.
“You feel horny,” I said and she looked straight at me and blushed. Then she nodded. “That’s normal for a girl your age. You’re supposed to have sexual feelings and wants.”
“I do,” she said. “But I can’t talk to daddy about them because he’s daddy.”
“I understand that,” I said. “When I first felt sexual wants, I didn’t talk to my parents either. In fact, I never did talk to my parents about sex, really.”
“So you know what I mean. Maybe someday I can talk to dad about it, but not right now.”
“So what are you doing about it?” I asked. I wondered how to help this kid.
“Sometimes I…well, I touch…”
“You touch yourself?” I asked.
“Yes,” she said softly. Her face was a furious red now.
“I hope you like it,” I said.
“But I feel so bad about it,” she said. “I like to do it and I like how it feels, but then I feel like I’m doing something bad. And then I think about how you pulled my pants down and spanked me and I like how it felt. And then I think about how I took my clothes off and you looked at me and then you spanked me some more. When you spanked me bare.”
“And then what happens?” I asked.
“And then I touch my breasts and rub them and I … I touch down below.”
“Tell me how you like to do that,” I said.
“Sometime I lie on my stomach and sometimes on my back. And I put my hand under my underpants and I touch and I rub around.”
She wanted something, some kind of permission to learn her own body. “Have you tried it with no clothes on?” I asked as gently as I could.
“Only once,” she said with a funny look.
“That was the day in my bedroom, wasn’t it?” I asked.
“You knew?” she asked. I think her pleasure was fighting with embarrassment at the thought.
“I thought you probably were playing with yourself,” I said. “Everybody does that when they get old enough, you know.”
“I guess I know,” she said, “but I feel like I’m the only one in the world.”
“I felt like that too,” I said. “And sometimes I thought I was doing something bad, but I wasn’t, you know. You’re not hurting anyone when you play with yourself, not even yourself.”
“But I feel like I’m doing something bad,” she said. “I feel like I should be…”
“Like you should be punished,” I said. “Do you think your dad would punish you if he found you playing with yourself?”
“I don’t know,” she said.
“I hope he wouldn’t,” I said. “After all, it’s a normal thing and he probably does it too.”
“He does?” Chelsea squealed. “Oh, God, you didn’t have to tell me that!”
“It’s a scary thought, isn’t it? So just try to forget it.”
“I don’t think I can,” she said. “But I’ll try.”
 “So you still feel kind of naughty when you play with yourself.”
“Yeah,” she said. She was looking down and blushing again.
“And you remember that spanking because it hurt, and because you liked it in some ways.”
“Yeah,” she said.
“And somebody should do something about that,” I said. “It is kind of naughty, you know.” She looked up and smiled at me. “But you’re not going to tell your daddy, are you?”
“No, I’m not,” she said.
“Then I think I will have to deal with it,” I said. “If you think you need a little repentance.”
“Oh, I do need it,” she said. She was smiling, but she was still obviously confused some. Well, most of us are.
“If you need some correction, I know how to deal with it. Much the same as last time, but less severe, I think. Is that what you think you need?”
“Yes, I think so,” she said. “I need that.”
“You’re coming to me, so you won’t have to take off all your clothes for your spanking. But you should expect a bare-bottom spanking, of course.”
“I need it that way,” she said. She was breathing fast all over again.
“And after your punishment I’m going to leave you alone to think for a few minutes. Then you can tell me what you’ve figured out,” I said. I was smiling too and I hoped Chelsea wouldn’t notice the bulge in my own pants.
I took Chelsea by the hand and led her upstairs again. The bedroom was warm and the daylight was soft through the blinds. “Take off your shoes and socks,” I said, and Chelsea obeyed me.
“Now come over here, just like last time,” I said. She stood by my thigh and clasped her hands over her bottom. “Squirming will happen, but no covering up or fighting. If you have a problem, you’ll get five extra spanks at the next level of the spanking. It will be a three-level spanking again – pants, panties, then bare-bottom.”
“What if I have a problem after you pull my panties down?” Chelsea asked with an impish look.
“Two things could happen. I could just add five spanks to your bare-bottom spanking or I could decide to make you take off all your clothes and bend over the bed. That depends on how much trouble you give me.”
“I’ll try to be a good girl this time,” Chelsea said, suddenly looking shy and uncertain again. I put my arm behind her back and pulled her down over my lap, then helped her get adjusted on the bed.
I gave Chelsea ten good spanks across her sweat pants, firm swats but not full force. She yelped twice and wiggled, but she did okay until the eighth spank. Then she put her hands over her bottom and squirmed very hard.
“You know better than that,” I said. “That means five spanks on your panties before I begin the main part of your panty-warming. I wouldn’t do that again if I were you.”
“I’ll try not to,” Chelsea answered. The gleam in her eye didn’t go with the words.
I gave her the other two spanks on her pants and rubbed her bottom. “Why are you rubbing me?” she asked.
“To take the sting out,” I said. “Because I like it and I bet you like it too,” I did not say.
“Thank you,” she said and winced a little. Then I helped her stand up. She untied her sweat pants and pulled them down to about mid-thigh. I could see the shape of her body through the pink panties she was wearing that day, pulled tight between her thighs. Again I pulled her over my lap; again she fell eagerly into position and pushed her weight into my lap. 
“All right, Chelsea,” I said. “The first five spanks are for covering up when I was spanking you on your pants.” She hugged the pillow against her chest, expecting this part to be sharper than the first part. I gave her five fairly solid spanks and she yelped for each one, but I knew they were pretty mild, just enough sting to mean something. If I’d really been punishing Chelsea, this part would have been very sharp indeed. But this was more in the nature of therapy, so I was careful.
Chelsea was wearing pink cotton bikini panties. I might have picked them for her. She still had a slight tan-line from her sunbathing in the summer. Her skin was soft and smooth and almost glistening. Each swat caused her to squirm again and her bottom jiggled under the smooth cotton that was stretched tight.  I put a couple of swats on the skin of her thighs just for variety. After about twelve spanks, Chelsea squealed and put her hands over her bottom again. “Oh, I’m sorry,” she said. “I didn’t mean to do that. Do I have to have more spanks?”
“Five for trying to cover up and five more for trying to get out of the first five,” I said.
“Do I have to?” she whimpered, but she obviously was trying to get more.
“Yes, you do. The next time you try to bargain, I’ll add ten spanks,” I said.
“Can I have them on my panties, anyway?” she asked.
“You know the rule,” I answered. “Ten more after I pull your panties down.” Then I gave her eight more slightly harder spanks. She obviously thought I didn’t have my heart in my work.
After the spanks – that made twenty-five on her panties – I rubbed her panties for a minute to take the sting out again and let her catch her breath. Chelsea wiggled some while I was rubbing her and the pressure of her stomach against my cock was enough to make me tremble with her. After we both settled down a little, I put my hands on the waistband of Chelsea’s panties.
She put her hands back up on mine for a moment and I paused. “Chelsea, do you really want me to stop? Or will you put your hands back down?” Chelsea pulled the waistband of her panties down a little, then put her hands back under the pillow. I finished pulling her panties down off her bottom and I enjoyed the slightly paler skin a moment. Then I told her, “Remember, the first ten are extra spanks from the panty-warming.” She nodded and wiggled again.
So I gave her ten fast spanks, a little softer than on her panties because she was a bit pink and, of course, I didn’t mean to hurt her. Then I gave her twenty more spanks, the main spanking, while she continued to whimper and wiggle.
After about fifteen spanks she put her hands up again and said, “Oops! I guess that’s five more, isn’t it?”
“Yes, it is,” I said. “At the end, and you have to count them.” Then I gave her the last five spanks of the main spanking. “All right, Chelsea, that’s twenty, plus the ten for being a brat during the panty-warming. You have five more coming and I want you to count each of them.”
“Okay,” she said. I raised my hand higher and gave her a sharp slap. “One!” she yelped. Each of the next four was also sharper and stronger and she yelped out each number. Then I rubbed her bottom again, enjoying the smooth, sweet skin against my hand. I stood Chelsea up, rubbed her for a moment longer so I could look at her pubic area, and then I stood up.
“Chelsea, take a couple of minutes to settle down and put your clothes back together. Then we can talk a few minutes.”
It was close to ten minutes before she joined me in the kitchen. I knew what I was going to do as soon as she left, but I had wanted to be there as soon as she came out.
“I think I know what went on after I left,” I said, and Chelsea blushed as pink as her bottom had been when I left the room. “You know, I can’t have you causing big problems just so I will have to discipline you. So here’s the rule: if you give me a minor problem, like throwing a snowball or making it hard for me to park, I’ll deal with the problem this way. Exactly how the spanking goes will depend on you. But if you cause a real problem, like vandalizing my yard or being disrespectful in school, I’ll tell your father about the problem and he will probably be harder to get around. Is that clear?”
“Yes, Mr. Robinson,” she said. “And thank you for helping me.” I was sure I’d have to watch out for snowballs soon.

Well, of course, I did. We only get scattered snow around here and it usually melts off – a couple of days of snow, several warmer days while it melts away, then start over. Sometimes it feels like the first snow of winter several times each season, sometimes it just feels like the snow will never quit coming. A couple of weeks after Chelsea and I reached an “understanding”, I was shoveling a particularly heavy snowfall on a Friday evening. I had about half the job done when the volley hit and I spun around.
Chelsea and one of her “little friends” were up the sidewalk reloading. They fired several snowballs fast. “Hey, girls,” I said. “I’ve got to finish this up. Cut me some slack.” I turned back to my job, but I got peppered several more times before I finished. Then I walked up to the two of them, collared them by the wrists and brought them up to the front door while I put the shovel away.
“Chelsea, what’s this all about?” I said sternly. “I thought we’d talked about this kind of thing.” I wasn’t surprised that Chelsea had provoked me, but I didn’t expect her to have company, for heaven’s sake.
“Maria’s just like me,” Chelsea said with a giggle. “She gets me into trouble sometimes and she talked me into throwing snowballs at you.”
“You know what our deal is, Chelsea,” I said.
“Yes, and Maria needs some too,” said Chelsea. I gave her a sharp look, then I looked at Maria. She was obviously about the same age as Chelsea, a little taller, with long dark hair coming from under her knit cap. It took me a moment to realize in the porch light that she had dark honey-colored skin and dark eyes – either Asian or First American. A very pretty girl, but what was I going to do with her? With the pair of them?
Chelsea stood on tiptoe and whispered in my ear. “Maria and I were talking and she needs a spanking too. That’s why I brought her over.”
I nodded and spoke to Maria. “Chelsea tells me you know something about what happens when she gets in trouble. Is that true?” Maria nodded. “Well, if you got her into this problem, I think you’re going to have to take your own consequences, aren’t you?”
“Yes, Mr. Robinson,” she said, swallowing a little nervously as she spoke. “I know what happens to bad girls at your house.”
“Well, then you’d both better come in. My dinner is in the oven and we can’t be all night about this.” I would have loved to be all night about this, but there wouldn’t be a chance for that.
We went inside and I started water in the coffee pot so we could have hot cocoa when we were done. Chelsea showed Maria where she could put her coat and they took off their boots as well, leaving them on the tile by the front door where I’d dropped mine. They were whispering and giggling while I was in the kitchen, but they got rather quiet when I said, “We’d better go upstairs, then.” They both went up the steps in front of me and Chelsea led the way into the bedroom. I flicked on the light as I came in behind them.
I already knew that Chelsea was a slim, athletic girl with small breasts. Maria was of a similar build but with very different coloring – dark hair and eyes, deep honey skin. Her eyes were lovely almonds while Chelsea’s were China-doll big and blue. They made a lovely if nervous-looking pair. They stood in front of me when I sat on the bed and thought for a moment about how to deal with them. Then I told them how we were going to handle their punishments.
“Maria, Chelsea says you conned her into this. Is that true?”
“Yes, Mr. Robinson,” she said shyly, looking down at her sweatshirt.
“And Chelsea has been here before, so she knows how I do this. You are each going to get a three-part spanking. I’m going to spank you on your jeans first, then on your underpants, and then on your bare bottom. But we’re going to do this in rounds. First I’ll spank Chelsea on her jeans, then you, Maria. Then Chelsea will come back and I’ll spank you on your panties, then Maria on your panties. Then Chelsea will have her bare-bottom spanking, then I’ll finish Maria’s spanking. Maria, since you started this, you will get three extra swats on your jeans, five extra spanks on your panties and five extra spanks on your bare bottom. If you cooperate, it will sting some. If you make it difficult, you will get extra spanks at the next level of the spanking. Is all that clear?” They both nodded. “Maria, kneel on the floor right there. I want you to see what you got Chelsea into.”
Maria knelt where I pointed and Chelsea stood by my thigh. I had an inconvenient stiffness in my pants that I didn’t want them to see but I was sure they were going to feel it anyway against their firm little waists.
I pulled Chelsea into position and she pulled the pillow against her breasts, tensing up a little. “Chelsea, you’re going to have ten spanks now. Try to cooperate.” I had doubts. She had a rebellious gleam in her eye and I wondered if she was planning to show off for Maria. She was.
I had given her five good spanks, lots of squirming against my belly and my cock and some crying, when she tried to squirm off and put her hands over her bottom. I got her wrists in a gentle grip in my left hand, hooked it over her waist to anchor her, and then I told her, “Chelsea, you know the rules. Now you’ll have to have five extra on your panties.” She whimpered but she settled down and I gave her five more spanks on her jeans. Then I helped her up and she knelt next to Maria.
Maria had been looking more apprehensive as Chelsea squirmed and the sound of her spanking got louder in the room. But she stood up bravely enough and came over to me. I took her hand and guided her over my lap. Her jeans were tight – Chelsea was still in her loose tomboy jeans – and I knew she would feel the spanking more than Chelsea had. I gave her ten slow swats, then three more for being the instigator. She also squirmed and cried a bit, but she didn’t give me any problems at that point.
I helped Maria up and she knelt down again – just a little gingerly, her bottom was warmed a bit. Chelsea got up, looked at Maria a moment, then came over to me.
She put her hands behind her back and bit her lip while she looked at me. “Chelsea, you know what’s next,” I said. She nodded, but she still kept her hands over her bottom. “Do you need me to help you?” She nodded again and I unsnapped her jeans. Then I unzipped them and they dropped to mid-thigh.  I pulled her into position. Her panties were white bikini-cut cotton, soft and very desirable. I was bulging harder and breathing a little fast.
“Remember, Chelsea, these first five are for problems with your jeans.” I gave her five firm spanks on the white cotton and she counted each of them. “Now you will have ten for throwing the snowballs. Hold still, please.” But she couldn’t or anyway she didn’t. She squirmed repeatedly, yelping and crying, and she tried to put her hands over her bottom a couple of times. “You know the deal,” I said. “That’s five more when your panties come down.” Then I finished the ten spanks and helped her up and put her jeans back up. “No need to fasten them,” I said, and she nodded.
Maria’s eyes had grown into huge almonds during Chelsea’s second spanking. This time I had to take her hand and help her get up – her hand was soft and warm and smooth. “Do I have to do this?” she asked.
“No,” I answered. “I could call your parents and let them decide on a punishment. Would you prefer that?”
“No,” she said. “I guess not.” Maria managed to unsnap and unzip her own jeans, but I wanted to tug them down. Her panties were pink with little berries on them; pulling her pants down tugged the panties down a little too, but I adjusted them before I put her over my lap.
“The first five spanks are for instigating this little business,” I said. I wasn’t sure if they were a reward or a punishment, but I figured more of a reward. “I want you to count them,” I said, and gave them to her slowly. She counted them, but she was squirming much harder than the first round. I had gotten about eight spanks on her soft pink panties when she, too, put her hands in the way and tried to squirm off. “Now, now,” I said. “That gets you five extra in the next round.”
“I know,” Maria said. “I’m sorry.” I finished her spanking and helped her get squared away, then had her kneel again. Chelsea almost jumped up and came over to me. Her pants were so loose that I just had her take them off. She lay across my lap and I pulled her underpants down off her bottom – Chelsea lifted her hips and the front slid down at the same time. Maria’s eyes were just about bugging out of her head.
Chelsea had a lot of trouble with this spanking – very different from her previous trips over my lap. First I had her count the five extra from the panty round, then I started on the twenty spanks for her main spanking. But she squirmed, she cried and she kept covering up. Finally, after I completed the twenty spanks, I told her, “That wasn’t what you were supposed to do, Chelsea. I think you will have to have a bare spanking.”
“I just had one,” Chelsea squealed.
“I think you know what I mean,” I said. “After Maria has her bare-bottom spanking, you will take off all your clothes and have another twenty spanks over my lap. Do you understand?”
“Yes, Mr. Robinson,” she said, biting her lip. The gleam in her told me she had been angling for this.
Maria stood up on her own this time and I pulled her into position. Just like Chelsea, she lifted her waist off my lap when I put my hand on the waistband of her pink panties and so the front slid down too. “The first five are your extra spankings,” I said. “Count them out, now.” I gave her the first spank. “One,” she said with a bit of a yip. “Two, three, four, five,” she yipped with each spank. Then she squirmed against my cock while I gave her twenty more, but just like with Chelsea I could tell it was more in excitement than in pain. Oh, she made all the noises but the pillowcase was dry.
She lay over my lap a minute after I had finished spanking her, then I pulled her panties up and her jeans and she knelt on the floor again. I took Chelsea’s hand and pulled her to her feet. “You know what you have to do,” I said and she nodded.
She was only wearing a sweatshirt, a bra and her panties. But it was a real treat to watch her pull the top off, then unhook her bra and slip out of it. Her breasts were in fact a bit bigger than they had been last summer. Then she slipped her underpants off and came over naked.
Maria’s mouth and eyes were just agog as I pulled Chelsea back over my lap. Chelsea’s bottom was definitely pinked up from the previous spanking, but she squirmed just as eagerly as ever. So I gave her twenty extra spanks, her legs squirming and opening a little as I did it. I gave her spanking some extra mustard though and this time she cried a few real tears. When I was done, I rubbed her bare bottom as I had before and her breathing calmed down.
“All right, girls,” I said. “I think that’s plenty for today. I hope I won’t have to do this kind of thing very often.”
“You won’t,” they said, almost in unison. But I wasn’t really lying and they weren’t either, because none of us really believed it.

Every few weeks, Chelsea would cause some kind of trouble and get herself led upstairs for a spanking. After several months of this, we had a very special session.
Chelsea was supposed to be helping me with yard work. Which led to grass and water all over my legs.
I had been thinking since Chelsea’s last “lap dance” and I had prepared something new for her. When we finally finished drying the car, I said, “Well, that was quite a show you put on for me. Now we’ll have to go have a chat about your hose work, I think.” She nodded and looked down demurely as I took her hand and led her inside.
We went up to the bedroom. I said to Chelsea, “Take off all of your clothes except your panties, little missy.” She looked at me with her big eyes. I had never told her to do this before a spanking.
“What do you mean, Mr. Robinson?” she asked.
“Just what I said. Take off your clothes, except for your panties. I have something I’ve been waiting to show you.”
Chelsea went to the corner by my closet and slipped out of her sandals. She unbuttoned her jeans and pulled them down to slip out of them. Then she turned away from me and pulled her T-shirt over her head, raising her arms over her head in that posture that men find so wonderful. She dropped the shirt on the floor by her jeans and I stared at her small white panties. It occurred to me that she must choose her panties for the days she was going to get herself a spanking because they were always pink or white. Chelsea was still facing away from me when she looked over her shoulder and asked, “What do you want me to do now?” She was turned part-way around with her arms across her small breasts as if she hadn’t shown them to me several times already.
I reached into a dresser drawer and pulled out an extra-large T-shirt. “Put this on,” I said, handing it to her. She turned away again and pulled the shirt over her head. The lifting motion was driving me mad with desire and I loved the way the shirt fell over her bare back. It covered her panties and hung to the middle of her thighs like a nightie. She turned around and looked down at the shirt, which had a “brat face” on it – the winking face with the tongue sticking out.
“Oh, Mr. Robinson,” she giggled.
“I had that made just for you,” I said. “I didn’t tell the guy in the T-shirt place what it was for, though.”
“Thank you,” she said. “I guess.”
“Thank you for wearing it,” I said. It was the first time I had ever acknowledged how much fun I had when Chelsea wanted a spanking. Then I took her hand and brought her over to the bed. My shirt was soaked and I pulled it off. “Bend over, missy,” I said.
Chelsea went over my lap in the big T-shirt. She looked small and innocent and so cute I could hardly stand it.
“Mr. Robinson, your pants are awful wet,” Chelsea said. “Can I get a towel or something?”
“Well, get up for a minute,” I said. “If they’re wet, it’s your doing, you know.” Then I did something I wanted to do a lot. I just took off my jeans and sat down in my briefs. Chelsea’s eyes were huge – she could see the bulge of my cock under the white cotton, of course. “Mr. Robinson…” she said, then she seemed kind of stuck. She bit her lip a moment and looked down at the floor, but she lay down over my bare thighs when I put my hand on her arm and pulled slightly.
Well, this was different all right. I had never had her body so close, so warm and soft with just layers of thin cotton between her skin and mine. Still, I had a job to do even if I was as stiff as a lamppost. I gave Chelsea five fairly hard spanks and then I let my hand rest on her bare thigh, my fingers just on the inside curve.
“Chelsea, I’ve decided we should use two different types of spankings. When you’re really a bad girl, you’re going to get a hard spanking. But this is going to be just a naughty-girl spanking. You’ll understand in a moment.” Then I began spanking her on her T-shirt, fast and lightly – too softly to actually sting, just enough to be felt. I kept the light spanking going for a long time. It was probably ten minutes of patting and squirming and even giggling before I stopped.
“Mr. Robinson, I think I was more naughty than that,” Chelsea said when I paused for a minute with my hand on her bottom, still over the brat shirt.
“You were more naughty than that, all right,” I answered. “And naughty girls get spanked more than that. I’m going to pull your shirt up now and spank you on your panties.” I lifted her shirt to the middle of her back and put my hand on her panties. The white cotton wrapped so cute around her bottom, around her legs and her waist. My right hand rested on her bottom and it seemed to get a mind of its own as my fingers slipped down her panties between her thighs. I slipped the tips of my fingers inside the leg band of her panties and touched her skin for a few moments. Chelsea gasped and wiggled, looking over her shoulder at me with big, pleased eyes.
Then I spent another five or ten minutes giving her a “naughty girl” play spanking. Every little bit I’d add a harder swat and she really liked that, gasping and whimpering a little. She squirmed more and more against my cock, which was hardly protected and was as stiff as I’d ever felt it. I don’t know which of us was having more fun.
I paused again and Chelsea put her hands over her bottom. “Chelsea, you know what happens if you do that,” I said.
“Yes, sir,” she answered. “Five extra spanks when you…when you pull my panties down.”
“That’s right. And here it is,” I said. I pulled her white panties down just off her bottom and stared for a minute at the place between her legs where the cotton was bunched up. Then I pulled her panties back up.
“What was that for?” Chelsea asked, looking around at me.
“Just because I like pulling them down,” I said and winked at her. Chelsea giggled and smiled. “I like when you pull them down for me,” she said.
“You know, you’re a very naughty girl. I think this time you have to pull your own panties down,” I said. My voice sounded a little strained to me. Chelsea giggled and nodded. Then she put her hands back up to her waistband and pulled her panties down for me. It was a wonderful sight.
“Five extra spanks for being a brat when I was spanking your panties,” I said. I made these spanks fairly hard; I had seen that Chelsea liked a mix of mostly soft spanks with a few hard ones. After the five hard spanks, I play-spanked her bottom for a long, long time. I don’t know how many times I patted her little bottom. About every ten pats I’d do a couple of real swats for variety. Chelsea gasped and whimpered sometimes, wiggling hard and pushing against my waist.
“Chelsea, are you feeling my cock?” I finally asked.
“Yes, Mr. Robinson,” she answered after a minute.
“That’s especially naughty. If you squeeze against me again, I will give you ten hard spanks,” I said.
“Yes, Mr. Robinson,” she answered with a giggle. And immediately she rocked against my cock several times.
“That’s it, little missy,” I said. “Here they come.” And I gave her ten of the best on her bare little bottom.
We were both kind of gasping by now. Chelsea’s wiggling had made her panties slide down her thighs a little way and I could see her vagina at times. As I rested my hand on her bareness, I slipped my hand down between her legs again and touched her vagina lips. She looked over her shoulder at me again and smiled. “Mr. Robinson, that’s pretty naughty of you,” she said.
“Yes, it is. And this is also naughty,” I said. Then I pushed my left hand under her body and gently felt her breasts through the brat shirt. Her nipples were like pencil erasers or buttons in my hand, tight and hard and marvelous. She wiggled her breasts against my fingers and my palm eagerly.
“Mr. Robinson, we’re both awfully naughty. I think you’d better spank me bare naked,” Chelsea said.
I had pretty much decided to do that and her suggestion made my heat almost unbearable. “I’m sure you’re right,” I said. I pulled her panties up and helped her to stand. Holding her between my thighs, I put my hands under her shirt and gently caressed her breasts under the material. This was the first time I had actually played with Chelsea’s breasts, although I’d seen them and touched them before. “Put up your arms,” I said, and I pulled her shirt over her head like you would with a small child at bath time. After I put the shirt aside, I pulled Chelsea to me and licked each breast. Then I rubbed her nipples some more and put my arms around her lovely body as she pulled my head against her. I stroked her back with both hands before I put them on her panties. Kissing her tummy, I pulled her panties down and between us we wiggled her out of them. She was altogether naked and lovely now.
Chelsea went down on her knees in front of me and ran her hands up my thighs. She touched my underwear and put her hand on top of my cock. “I think we should both be bare naked for this spanking,” she said softly.
“Maybe we will be,” I said. “But not yet.” I raised her to her stand again and pulled her over my lap. Softly and quickly I patted her bottom, only play-spanks this time. She wiggled against my cock and I gave her one sharp spank. Then Chelsea rolled to her side. She pulled my left hand to her breasts and then rolled back to her tummy. I felt her breasts up as I continued to play-spank her wonderful bottom.
 Chelsea managed to get her hand into my lap and played with my underwear. She even managed to sneak her hand under my waistband and touch the tip of my penis, which got her two sharp swats. Then she said, “Please, Mr. Robinson. Stop spanking me a minute.” I stopped at once and she rolled over to her back again. Then she sat up and put her arms around my neck. I put my mouth to her breasts again and she whispered, “Now you have to be bare naked.”
“Okay,” I whispered back. I got my arms around her body like a small child and lifted her as I stood up. Turning around, I set her softly on the bed, where she sat up and looked hard at me. Then I leaned over the bed. “It’s your turn if you want,” I said.
Chelsea knelt on the bed in front of me and pulled my underpants down. Reaching in front, she wiggled the waistband over my hard penis and stroked it gently. I finished taking off my briefs as she waited. Then she kissed my thighs and my belly while she handled my cock. She played with my bottom for a few minutes too. Then I pulled her up by her soft hands and we hugged, belly to belly. She rubbed her tummy against my hard-on and I could feel a drop of wetness between us.
We tumbled on the bed and I stared at her sweet body – pubic hair, thighs, the fold between her legs. Chelsea was staring just as hard at my cock until I carefully lay on her to kiss her breasts and to put my fingers into her vagina. I stroked her breasts with my tongue and her vagina with my fingers. Then I got Chelsea into a naked hug and rolled to my back, pulling her on top of me. She spread her body all across mine as I stroked her back and her bottom.
We were both at a wild pitch. Chelsea threw her legs open across my body. Then she reached down and put her hand on my cock to guide it into her warm, wet body. I’m sorry to say I came pretty fast, but Chelsea was rocking hard against me and she seemed to come about the same time I did.
Maybe that was a place we shouldn’t have gone. Maybe it was something we shouldn’t have done. Then again, maybe it was the best thing we could do just then.