“You’re quite good at this,” she suddenly said.
“Am I?” I asked.
“Yeah; bit of a natural.”
Another smack — this time, Alexa’s back arched, her head raised, eyes tightened shut, and I thought I heard a whimper escape. I sped up, landing smack after smack, alternating cheek, and the whimper turned into a continuous groan, almost of protect, her face now back against her arms. Her bare feet started to kick involuntarily at each strike as her t-shirt rode further up her back. Finally, I stopped, my hand stinging, and I watched as Alexa lay there, shivering and mumbling into the duvet.
“Are you okay?” I asked, and she just nodded. “Did I go too far?” She shook her head and, in reply, I landed a final smack against her nearest cheek — it wobbled pleasantly and she squealed in surprise, and I was more than a little shocked to realise how widely I was smiling. Alexa’s hands tentatively left from under her face and went to her bottom, which she rubbed gently, flinching at the first touch.
“Ow…” she mumbled — I thought I heard a soft sob in her voice. “You hit like a pro.”
“Are you crying?” I asked suddenly, alarmed.
“No,” she said, far too quickly to be truthful. “It’s not my fault. It just hurts a lot.”
“I’m sorry,” I said, despite her prior advice.
“It’s okay. I like it.” Her hands stopped rubbing and I heard her stutter. “I don’t mean I like it, I just mean…”
“I know what you mean,” I teased, my own hand going to her bottom and rubbing it, joining her hands, and she paused to let me, sighing at the sensation, as I gently stroked her soft, pretty butt.
Finally, Alexa turned back to me, her face flushed.
“I think you’ve got this figured out,” she admitted. “How does it look?”
“You tell me,” I said and, thought it wasn’t what I meant, Alexa turned her head away from me and her fingers went beneath the waistband of her pyjamas. Before I could stop her, she had tugged them down to just below her bottom, exposing herself and her navy blue thong, its white label jutting out from the waistband. Her pale, plump cheeks were stained pink.
“Do I look good?” Alexa asked.
“A vision in pink,” I told her, and she strained to look over her shoulder, the two of us staring at her bottom.
“Cute,” she sighed, before shifting from my lap and rising to stand on her knees. Her uneven pyjamas fell from her hips altogether and to her knees, her groin covered as her shirt fell back over her, before she tugged them back up. An awkward moment of silence followed as we both stared at each other.
“Well,” I said at last, as Alexa reached round to rub her bottom, “I feel a bit wiser, I guess.”
“That was fun,” she replied. “I feel sorry for the girls you’ll have over your lap soon. And a little jealous.”
“It’s not gonna be like that, though, I don’t think,” I admitted. “I mean… that was fun. It won’t be fun. It’s discipline. Like, yeah, I enjoyed that but I don’t think I’ll enjoy the real thing. Once context gets involved.”
“That’s very fair.”
“You definitely okay?” She was still rubbing herself.
“Just stings,” she said, her hands going under her pyjamas.
“I feel bad,” I sighed.
Then, a thought came to me.
“You wanna… you know, get revenge. I guess I ought to know how it feels, if I’m gonna be doing it to people.” Alexa’s eyes widened.
“Oh, I would love to get revenge,” she said, smiling. Slowly, knees buckling a little, I stood up and she took my place, before patting her thighs. “Come on then, naughty girl.”
“Naughty girl?”
“It’s discipline, innit?” she said, and I draped myself over her lap, feeling awkward and precarious, until her hands held me by my shoulder and hip, steadying me.
“Is this okay?” I asked, shifting nervously.
“Yeah, you’re fine,” Alexa assured me. “Hand on, I’ll just budge backwards.” She did, so now I wasn’t dangling but rather laying over the sofa, which was altogether much more comfortable. I felt Alexa’s hand move to between my shoulder blades, a finger stroking up and down, and I shivered.
“This is kinda nice,” I mumbled, as I reached for the nearest sofa cushion and planted my face into it, not wanting the neighbours to hear any sounds I may or may not make.
“So I guess it’s not representative at all, ey?” asked Alexa, and I shook my head. Looking up from the cushion, I saw through the shuttered blinds the orange lights of a car come, grow, then fade again.
“You can pull up my skirt, if you want,” I mumbled.
“You sure?” I heard excitement on her tongue.
“It’s only fair,” I sighed.
Not a word of protest came from Alexa — I felt my formal skirt tugged up my thighs, despite its resistance, and my butt exposed, bit by bit, as she pulled it to my waist. I tried to remember what underwear I was wearing and drew a blank, but I knew I was better covered than Alexa had been. Knowing me, I probably fretted endlessly about what was most appropriate for an interview, as if I’d be showing them off.
“Mmm,” Alexa purred.
“What?” I asked, feeling my face reddening by the second, acutely aware of my exposure.
“Such a cute butt,” she sighed. I felt her fingers trail along my waistband — shivers burst all along my spine.
“I don’t think I can say that to a student,” I mumbled back, and Alexa sniggered.
“I guess not,” she agreed.
“I’ve never… you know…”
“Done this before?”
“Yeah.”
“Well, here’s to your first time. Ready?”
“Ready.”
Alexa was gentle with me, her spanks barely taps at first, gradually picking up as she alternated from cheek to cheek just like I had, the pain becoming sharper. I buried my face into the cushion, mewling, trying not to kick or cry out, my legs squeezing together. Pain built across the surface of my rear, before Alexa surprised me by shifting to my thighs, slapping them with loud cracks, and I let out an involuntary yelp.
“You good?” she asked, and I showed a limp thumbs-up. Alexa giggled and continued, no longer hitting any harder, just keeping up a rhythm, and I found a strange satisfaction in the sound of each slap through the room. I tried to imagine being a student, being made to go through this with the Student Officer, and how that Student Officer could be me, and how they might feel outraged, embarrassed, or even enjoying it, all at my hand, and I realised then that I was taking this job.
After a time, with my butt on fire, Alexa slowed, then stopped, rubbing my rear with her palm, gently as she could.
“All done,” she cooed. “I’m happy with my revenge.” I stayed lying there for a moment, catching my breath, before I slowly pushed myself up and got to my feet, standing with skirt still around my waist and twisted round to examine myself, feeling a wave of euphoria wash over me. I wondered if students would go through the same thing. My butt still faced Alexa, who reached out with a hand to stroke my thigh — I saw now that I’d worn plainest black underwear, thank God, and my cheeks and thighs were stained pink by Alexa’s hand.
“I’ll need some cream,” I said meekly, and Alexa laughed through her nose.
“You’re about to move away and we probably could’ve been doing this all this time,” she sighed.
“Well, probably not,” I replied, quickly reaching for my skirt as the euphoria began to pass and negotiating it back down my thighs. Covered up again, I took a deep breath, the stinging going nowhere fast, as Alexa stood up and took my hands. I stared at her. “What?”