Becky stared blankly out the train window as it carried her toward what would be her home for the next few years. She was only nineteen and had spent her whole life in her hometown, in the house where she’d grown up. A diligent student, she’d earned good grades in school and was admitted without difficulty to the college she’d dreamed of. It was the start of a new chapter in her life, one that would take her far from home, to the opposite side of the country.

Becky had brown hair, blue eyes, and a soft yet expressive face. She was of medium height, with a well-proportioned figure—firm, modest breasts and a curvy bottom that rarely went unnoticed. She’d always been courted by boys but had never shown much interest in them. Shy by nature, she was generally better behaved than most girls her age.

She wasn’t the most popular girl in school, yet people liked her because she was kind to everyone. She was simply different. While other girls seemed consumed by crushes and dating, Becky couldn’t even decide whether she preferred boys or girls. In truth, she didn’t feel drawn to either. The only thing that stirred anything inside her, the one thing that truly fascinated and excited her, was spanking. She’d been obsessed with it since childhood, and after turning sixteen her entire sexuality had come to revolve around it. She visited adult sites but searched only for spanking videos, pictures, and stories, reading countless forums and personal accounts about the subject.

When she masturbated, she never thought about sex or anything directly related to it. Instead, she imagined being pulled over a woman’s knee and spanked hard on her bare bottom until she cried like a child and her bottom was sore and bruised.

For her, spanking was discipline, not something good for foreplay between two lovers, but a strict correction that carried meaning and order. She couldn’t explain why she needed it so deeply; her mind simply returned to it again and again, as if drawn by an invisible magnet.

And in her imagination, the one delivering the spanking was always a woman older than she was. Someone calm, firm, and almost maternal.

She had just finished reading a story about a landlady who rented a room to a young girl and ended up spanking her for all sorts of mistakes. Becky chose that topic intentionally, to feed her imagination and feel as much a part of the story as possible. After all, she was also about to have a landlady. Her mother had decided it was better for her not to live on campus but to rent a room in the city instead.

So, after a long search, she ended up talking to Amy Scott, a woman in her forties who lived alone in a large house and was willing to rent a room. At first, Miss Scott wasn’t very enthusiastic, as she had had problems with previous tenants, but after a long conversation and Becky’s assurances that she was a good and responsible girl, she finally agreed.

Becky set off for her new home with two large suitcases and a head full of guilty thoughts. She hadn’t even met her new landlady yet, and she was already imagining herself over her lap for a much-needed spanking. It might have seemed strange, but Becky often pictured herself in that position, and even on the train, she found herself watching women who fit the profile.

Her mother had never believed in spanking, and she’d never had the chance to experience her deepest fantasy anywhere else. She hoped that once she moved away from home, her luck would change and the right opportunity would appear. As a last resort, she had even considered visiting a dominatrix, though it didn’t seem as appealing as a real, personal experience.

With these thoughts in mind, she finally arrived, after a long journey, at the door of Miss Amy Scott’s house. It was an imposing building, rather old but renovated and well cared for.

When she rang the bell, a tall woman appeared at the door. She had a toned body and a beautiful face, with a warm gaze that somehow also inspired authority. Her voice matched perfectly: friendly but firm.

“Hello. You must be Becky. I’m Amy Scott, but you can call me Miss Scott, or just Miss.”

“Hello, Miss Scott. I'm glad to meet you,” Becky said, feeling a little intimidated by the lady.

“Let me help you with that luggage. Come in.”

They entered the house, and Miss Scott gave Becky a short tour before showing her the room where she would be staying. “I don’t have any special rules in the house, just common sense,” Miss Scott said. “I expect you to keep your room clean, as well as the bathroom, living room, and kitchen. I don’t want to have to clean up after you. Please keep the noise down, and if you plan to bring a friend over, let me know in advance. I’ll take care of the cooking, but I expect you to help set the table or do the dishes. If we respect each other, everything will be fine.”

“I’m sure it will,” Becky said.

“I hope so.”

Becky went to her room to unpack, but she was too distracted. Before long, she ended up lying on the bed, lost in thought. She kept replaying her meeting with Miss Scott. The woman was clearly not someone to mess with; she was a little old-fashioned, with a natural air of authority. Exactly the kind of woman who made Becky feel intimidated. The exact kind of woman she often imagined in her most private fantasies.

That night, Becky masturbated, thinking about being sternly punished by her new landlady.

The next few days were fairly uneventful, with both women gradually adjusting to the new situation. They talked more and learned about each other. Becky's mind, however, was still flooded with thoughts about spanking. Sometimes she found herself staring at her lap, imagining what it would be like to be pulled across Miss Scott’s knees.

Gradually, after several days, she began to get her thoughts in order and devise a plan. She was now in a more conservative part of the country, where spanking was not uncommon; Miss Scott seemed a bit old-fashioned and most likely not opposed to the idea. She was authoritative and serious. She was the perfect woman to put Becky in her place with a good spanking.

Although it wasn’t in her nature, Becky decided to start misbehaving and try to provoke Miss Scott, hoping that somehow the opportunity would present itself and the subject of spanking would come up.

She began to play her music louder and louder, stopped helping in the kitchen, left dirty dishes in the sink, and let her room become messy. When Miss Scott finally began to admonish her, Becky either answered back rudely or simply ignored her.

Miss Scott’s patience was running thin. One day, after finding a pile of unwashed dishes on the table and in the sink, she marched into the living room, took the remote control from Becky, turned off the TV, and said sternly, “I’ve had enough. We can’t go on like this. I think it’s time for me to call your mother.”

That made Becky react immediately. “Please don’t call her,” she said in a pleading voice.

“Why not? She told me you’re such a nice girl and assured me I’d have no problem having you under my roof. So I need to know if she lied to me.”

“She didn’t lie,” Becky said, her voice trembling.

“Then that means you were well-behaved at home. What do I have to do to make you behave like that here?”

“I don’t know, Miss. I’ll try harder,” Becky said, though she didn’t sound too convincing.

“That’s not good enough. What did your mother do that I’m not doing? Maybe I should call and find out.”

Becky knew this was her moment. She had no choice but to bring up the subject of spanking. Miss Scott had given her no other way out. Summoning all her courage, she said in a near whisper, “She used to spank me.”

Miss Scott raised her eyebrows, surprised, but quickly recovered her composure. “So that’s why you were such a good girl at home? Your mother failed to mention that.”

Becky looked down at the floor and said nothing. Of course, her mother hadn’t mentioned spanking; she'd never spanked her.

Before Becky could think of a way to respond, Miss Scott continued, “So if I put two and two together… to make you as well-behaved as you were at home, I should apply the same methods as your mother?”

“You don’t need to do that,” Becky said, though her tone was far from convincing.

“Oh, but I think I do. Tell me, if I spank you, do you think you’ll behave better?”

“Yes, Miss.”

“So you believe a spanking could solve the problems we’ve been having here?”

“Yes, Miss,” Becky replied, blushing.

“Good girl. At least you’re honest. Now I need to know all the details about the spankings you received at home. You can tell me, or I can call your mother and ask. It’s your choice.”

Becky was extremely nervous, yet deeply aroused by the entire conversation. Miss Scott had mentioned spanking but hadn’t made it clear whether she actually intended to spank her. Becky’s heart was racing with a mix of fear and excitement. This could be the day she lived her deepest desire, but reality might not be as thrilling as the fantasy, and the pain could be far worse than she imagined.

She had dreamed about this moment too many times, and she knew she wanted to experience a real spanking, no matter how painful or disappointing it might be. So many people had gone through it and survived. Besides, if it turned out not to be what she hoped, at least she could be freed from the obsession that had haunted her for years.

Becky was determined to stick to her plan and try to manipulate Miss Scott into giving her the spanking she longed for. And now the opportunity was perfect; not just for any spanking, but for the one she had always imagined. Miss Scott wanted to know the details of how her mother did it, so all Becky had to do was describe, in every detail, exactly the kind of punishment she desired and pretend it was routine at home.

Without delaying the answer Miss Scott was waiting for, Becky said, “You don’t need to call my mother. I’ll tell you everything you want to know.”

“Then you’d better start from the beginning. How did you decide a spanking was necessary?”

“Well, I didn’t decide anything. When Mom thought I’d crossed a line or done something that deserved a spanking, she would tell me and list all the reasons why she felt she had to punish me.”

“Then what? Was there any discussion about it? Did you try to make amends?”

“No, not at all. There were no negotiations. If my mother decided I should be punished, her decision was final, and without a doubt, I would be spanked. The only amends I made were over her lap, getting my bottom soundly spanked.”

“Interesting,” Miss Scott replied, clearly intrigued. “So, no rude answers, no attempts to get out of it?”

“No, Miss. Any attempt like that would have been pointless and only made things worse for me.”

“I like that. Go on,” Miss Scott demanded.

“After she scolded me and made sure I knew exactly what I was being punished for, she sent me to fetch the hairbrush from my room.”

“She spanked you with a hairbrush? What kind of hairbrush?”

“Yes, she spanked me first with her hand, then with a heavy wooden-backed hairbrush.”

“Like the one I’ve seen you use for your hair?”

“Yes, Miss. In fact, it’s exactly the same one.”

“And she used to spank you on the bare bottom?”

“She was a firm believer that a spanking should always be given on the bare bottom; otherwise, it wouldn’t be effective.”

“She’s a smart woman. I can only agree with her. Oh, I interrupted your story again. Please continue.”

The whole conversation with Miss Scott made Becky so wet and aroused that she could barely hide her excitement. She loved the way the discussion was going, and Miss Scott seemed genuinely interested in every detail. Becky was well aware that what she was describing about her supposed punishments at home was likely to be replicated exactly by Miss Scott in the near future.

Basically, she was digging her own hole, but she was determined that, no matter how humiliating or painful the spanking might turn out to be, she wouldn’t try to make it easier for herself. After all, in her fantasies, the punishments were always severe, and she was resolute to live it to the fullest this time.

With that thought in mind, she continued her story: “So, as I mentioned, I was sent to bring the hairbrush from my room. When I came back with it, I had to be dressed only in a bra and panties. In the living room, a chair was already placed in the middle of the room, and I would go and put the brush on it. Then I had to stand in the corner with my nose pressed against the wall.

"After a while, my mom would come behind me, undo my bra clasp, then take off my panties and help me step out of them. She told me to stay still in the corner and think about what I’d done and the punishment I was about to receive.

"My mother always spanked me naked. She said it added to the humiliation and that it should be part of the punishment. She also saw it as a transfer of power. She insisted that she should always be the one to take my bra and panties down. That was her way of showing she was in control, and by accepting it, I was surrendering that control to her.”

“For how long did you have to stay in the corner?”

“I really don’t know. Maybe just a few minutes, but it always felt like ages. Probably because of all the anticipation. When Mom decided it was time for my spanking, she’d tell me to turn around and come over her lap. By then, she was already seated on the chair with the hairbrush in her hand.

"I’d go straight to her and lean over her knee. She’d help me into the right position, then ask me to place the hairbrush on the floor in front of me. Then she’d start spanking me with her hand.”

“For how long did she usually spank you with her hand?”

“I honestly don’t know. All I can tell you is that it was hard, and I could barely cope with it. I’d squirm and gasp, and after a while she’d stop and tell me it was time for the hairbrush. Then, in a firm tone, she’d order me to hand it to her.

"At that moment, I always wanted to stall, to delay the inevitable, but I knew it would only make things worse. So, reluctantly, I handed her the hairbrush, which felt like another sign of acceptance of my fate.”

“And I suppose that’s when the real punishment began. How long and severe was it?” Miss Scott asked.

“Again, I can’t tell you exactly. I never checked the time, and I could never count the number of spanks; it was too painful to concentrate. But I can tell you that it was so painful that, by the end, I was exhausted from squirming, kicking, and crying. I’d beg her to stop, but she never did.

"My bottom would always end up a deep shade of red, sometimes even bruised, and so hot I felt you could fry eggs on it. It stayed sore for three or four days, and when there were bruises, it took longer to heal.”

“What happened next?” Miss Scott asked, now visibly intrigued.

“Mom would wait until I calmed down, which took a while after such a hard spanking, then help me up and tell me to go wash my face and rest for a bit.

"I’d go to my room and lie down until the pain subsided and my breathing returned to normal. When I finally felt better, I’d get dressed and go back to the living room to find her. We’d always hug, and she’d tell me I was forgiven and that she hoped she’d never have to do it again. I’d apologize again and tell her I loved her. After that, I knew everything was fine between us, and I always felt peaceful and forgiven.”

“Wow. What a story. Your mom seems to know damn well how to keep you in place. Don't you ever resent her for punishing you like that?”

“No, never. She always spanks me with a good reason, and it’s always my fault. She’s very strict, but fair. And I know she wants what’s best for me, even when I’m over her lap for a spanking.”

“I have another question. When was your last spanking?”

“I think it was about a week before leaving for college. I was stressed with all the preparations, and when my mother asked me something, I answered in a rude way.”

“I see. Like you answered me back on so many occasions these last few days. I think it's time to draw some conclusions. The last few days, it's been a nightmare having you as a tenant, and I think we both know I'd have plenty of reasons to give you your mother's medicine. I'd almost say you tried to ask for a spanking.”

Becky thought for a moment and told herself, Was it that obvious? She was very emotional and almost breathless. She had put effort into coming up with a story that ticked off all the details she dreamed of in her fantasies and waited with bated breath to see what Miss Scott would say. Part of her wanted Miss Scott to give her a spanking, and part of her would have run away at that moment and never looked back. Her pussy was soaking wet, and she felt butterflies in her stomach, but at the same time, she was trembling with fear of what might follow.

This duality of feeling made her feel more alive than ever. She had read many stories and forums about the thrill and anticipation before a spanking, but no matter how much she had imagined it, she could not have anticipated the feelings she experienced when faced with the real possibility of being spanked. Her thoughts were interrupted by Miss Scott’s stern voice.

“Since you respond so well to corporal punishment, and not only don't you hold a grudge against your mother, but you also seem to appreciate the effort she puts in to get you back on the right path, I think the answer is pretty simple. You did the same things you were punished for at home and must suffer the same consequences. We can't continue in the same way. Do I have to list all the reasons I have to punish you?”

“No, Miss,” Becky barely managed to say.

“Then I think it’s time for you to go and bring your hairbrush.”

“I’m so sorry, Miss,” Becky said. She had engineered all of this, so she wasn’t really sorry, but she was very nervous, and that was the right thing to say in that moment.

“I know you’re sorry, dear, but I promise you’ll be a lot sorrier when I put that hairbrush to good use. Now go and get it!”

Becky went upstairs to her room. She started taking off her clothes, and when she noticed how wet her panties were, she decided to change them and take a fresh pair. She was in a state of panic and excitement. She took her hairbrush, and looking at it, she felt a shiver down her spine. How could she be that scared and at the same time so aroused? What had she just gotten herself into?

She sat for a few seconds and took a deep breath to calm herself. There was no turning back; it was time to face the music. Besides, she would never forgive herself if she missed such an opportunity. Before she went downstairs, she glanced in the mirror. She was proud of her body and smiled as she looked at her curvy bottom. It would be a pleasure for Miss Scott to make it redder than it ever was before.

When she entered the living room, the chair was already waiting in the middle of the room. Becky placed the hairbrush on the seat, and before she could even think of what to do next, she heard Miss Scott’s firm voice: “Go stand in that corner, nose to the wall, and think about everything you’ve done wrong these days.”

Becky obeyed, standing with her nose pressed against the wall in tense anticipation. She couldn’t see what was happening behind her, which made her feel even more vulnerable.

She didn’t even notice when Miss Scott approached until a hand touched her shoulder, making her flinch.

“Stay still, darling. You’re far too overdressed for what’s coming next.”

Miss Scott unclipped her bra, removed it, and then hooked her fingers into the waistband of Becky’s knickers and pulled them down to the floor.

“Step out of them. We don’t want them getting in the way.”

Becky obeyed, now standing completely naked with her nose still in the corner.

“That’s better. Hands on your head, and don’t move until I tell you,” Miss Scott ordered in a commanding tone.

Becky had always thought corner time was overrated, but she’d seen it so often in stories and videos that she had included it on purpose, wanting to experience it for herself.

Standing naked in the corner, she felt utterly exposed. With nothing else to distract her, her mind kept circling back to what was about to happen. The anticipation and fear grew stronger with each passing moment. She felt like a naughty child and laughed quietly to herself when she realized she really was one, waiting for her well-deserved punishment. It felt right to be there, and she didn’t regret including that part in her story.

After what felt like an eternity, Miss Scott’s stern voice finally broke the silence. “All right, Becky. Turn around and come stand in front of me.”

The moment Becky had both dreaded and longed for had come. She turned around and saw Miss Scott sitting on the chair, lightly tapping the wooden hairbrush against her palm. She looked so calm and dominant that Becky’s knees began to tremble. She stepped forward and stood before her, humiliated to be completely naked in front of her fully dressed, strict landlady, yet a shiver of excitement ran through her all the same.

“I hope you understand that we’re here because of your behavior,” Miss Scott said coldly. “I trust you’ll learn something from this lesson. Now, get over my knee, and keep that hairbrush safe until I need it.”

Miss Scott helped Becky lower herself across her lap and rested a firm hand on her bare bottom. Becky found the position both humiliating and arousing. She felt small, powerless, and acutely aware that the spanking she’d dreamed of all her life was about to begin. She looked at Miss Scott’s legs and found it strange to see them upside down. Then she noticed her own toes barely touching the floor and wondered how long it would be before her legs started to kick.

She didn’t have time to finish the thought. Miss Scott’s hand rose and came down hard, landing a firm slap across Becky’s right buttock. She gasped, not so much from the pain as from the sharp, echoing sound. A second slap landed on the left, and then, in a steady rhythm, Miss Scott’s hand fell again and again, dozens of sharp blows covering every inch of Becky’s bottom and even the tops of her thighs.

If the first strokes didn’t seem too painful, the sting soon began to build with each new one, and her bottom grew more and more tender. The pain became harder to bear, and she remembered something she had once read in an article about coping with it. It said that most spankees don’t actually enjoy the pain itself. It’s the other parts of a spanking that make the whole experience worth it. One method to make it more bearable was to focus less on the pain and more on the other aspects that are more appealing. Becky tried that method, and it worked to some extent, but every new smack quickly reminded her of the burning pain.

Her legs began to dangle, and she squirmed helplessly over Miss Scott’s lap in a futile attempt to escape the smacks. Her gasps became louder and faster. She didn’t feel aroused at that moment, but she still loved the submissive position she was in and the power Miss Scott held over her.

When Becky started to struggle harder, Miss Scott gripped her hip more firmly and caught one of her hands, holding it behind her back so she couldn’t reach down to cover her bottom.

Finally, the hand spanking ended, and Becky heard Miss Scott’s strict voice asking for the hairbrush. Becky felt utterly powerless but also ready to submit completely to her authority. Without hesitation, she handed her the hairbrush, a simple act that felt like pure surrender and trust. It gave her butterflies in her stomach.

Before beginning, Miss Scott said, “Since you’re such a squirmer, I doubt you’ll stay still for the hairbrush part. So, we’ll adjust the position a little.”

Saying that, she shifted Becky across one leg and then placed the other firmly over her, pinning her in place. She completed her control by grabbing Becky’s free hand and holding it tightly behind her back.

Becky felt even more powerless and under Miss Scott’s control, and she loved that feeling. At the same time, she felt oddly relieved, knowing she wouldn’t have to struggle to stay in place.

“Now,” Miss Scott said calmly, “you can squirm and kick as much as you like. It won’t make any difference.”

Moments later, Becky felt the first strike of the hairbrush land on her bottom and screamed. It was far worse than she had imagined, and the fire in her bottom became unbearable.

She cried, kicked, begged for forgiveness, and pleaded for it to stop, but nothing worked. She began to seriously question her decision to endure such punishment and promised herself she’d never make that mistake again. The pain was just too much.

The blows kept coming, steady and unrelenting. Becky grew too tired to struggle. Her movements slowed, then stopped. She began to lie still, accepting her punishment. The only thing she couldn’t control anymore was the crying. She felt completely broken, powerless, and at the mercy of a strong, determined woman. The pain became a steady burn, impossible to separate into individual strikes.

Gradually, though, her mind started to drift away from her body. The pain became more distant, more bearable. Inside, she felt a strange sense of peace, a deep, trembling relief. A pleasant numbness began to spread through her whole body. She had read about this before: that some spankees enter a kind of inner space, a universe of their own, where the pain turns into something else: surrender, stillness, even calm.

It was like a spanking climax, a strange, fascinating mix of pain and release. It hurt terribly, but at the same time, it brought her fulfillment and joy.

When the spanking finally stopped, Becky’s bottom felt as if a volcano had erupted across it. She was crying and breathing hard, and it took her a while to recover. Miss Scott helped her stand, and as soon as she could, Becky reached back to rub her sore buttocks in a desperate attempt to ease the pain. It looked almost like a little spanking dance, something that made Miss Scott smile, though she tried not to show it.

Miss Scott gave Becky some time off to calm down and told her she would wait for her in the living room afterwards to talk. Becky went to her room, and the first thing she did was look in the mirror at her bottom. She couldn't believe that was really her bottom. It was as deep a red as she'd only seen in her films. There were a few bruises in places.

She was still hardly processing the fact that she had just been spanked for real, just as she had dreamed of for years. She went and lay on her bed, playing in her mind all the details of the spanking she just received. The more she thought about it, the wetter her pussy got. Soon she started fingering herself, and after paying some attention to the clit, she exploded in the most wonderful orgasm she ever had.

She was exhausted but happy. The spanking had been much harder than she anticipated, but she felt so alive because of it. Even her bottom didn’t hurt so much anymore; the pain had already started to turn into a pleasant, erotic tingle.

Becky knew she had to go back to the living room, where Miss Scott was waiting for her. But first, she had to prepare herself for the discussion that might take place. She had to answer a few questions first. Was the spanking as she had imagined? It was more painful than she had imagined, and the emotions were stronger than in her fantasies. Would she go through such punishment again? Well, the pain was very intense, and she had a hard time coping with it, and her bottom was extremely red and swollen with some bruises. Sitting would be a problem for the next few days, but beyond that, the tingling sensation in her bottom was quite pleasant.

On the other hand, Becky loved how strict and dominant Miss Scott was and loved the fear and anticipation before the spanking, sitting in the corner, and the total loss of control. She loved being dominated, having no say in how hard and how long she was punished. Even after the spanking, after she had calmed down and the pain had subsided, Becky felt good; she was calm, and everything seemed right. Yes, Becky lay naked in bed; her bottom was very hot and marked, her eyes red, and tears barely dry on her cheeks, but she felt at peace.

Putting things in balance, yes, she wanted to be spanked again, regardless of how painful it was. In fact, she realized that pain was basically the most important ingredient, the one that made everything make sense in a spanking. Without the pain, nothing would seem real. The fear and the anticipation wouldn't have been the same. The tears and the squirming and kicking over Miss Scott’s lap would not exist without all that pain. The control Miss Scott exerted over her, the way she held her during the spanking, Becky's struggle to get through it, and then the complete loss of control and surrender would not have been possible without the pain.

So yes, thought Becky, because of the pain she felt so alive, and all the other feelings were so intense. She decided that the reality was much better than the fantasy, even if it involved so much pain. She wanted to be spanked again and yearned for spanking to be present in her life and not just in her imagination. She wanted to submit to Miss Scott's authority and suffer across her lap. So yes, if Miss Scott wished to discipline her in the future, she would accept.

Becky remembered, though, that for Miss Scott, spanking was purely disciplinary, so she decided not to be too thrilled if she was offered a regime that included spanking. And under no circumstances should she suggest such a thing. She was ready to go downstairs, but first she had to get dressed. Too bad. She liked the feeling of being naked, even in front of Miss Scott.

Miss Scott sat on the couch with the TV on, but she wasn’t paying attention to it. She was looking out the window, lost in thought about the last few days. In the past, she had rented rooms to others, but after several bad experiences, she decided not to do it again. Becky was an exception. Her mother had convinced Miss Scott to take her in. After a few days, however, she began to regret her decision until things settled down in an unexpected way.

She had been stressed and tense about Becky’s behavior, but after spanking her, she felt surprisingly calm. She wasn’t someone who enjoyed punishing others or causing pain, but she believed in discipline and wasn’t afraid to impose it when needed. If peace in the house required Becky to be disciplined, she was ready to do what was necessary.

She was pulled from her thoughts when she heard footsteps on the stairs. Becky appeared in the living room, looking nervous and uneasy. Miss Scott smiled and uncrossed her arms, and Becky went straight to her and hugged her.

“I’m so sorry, Miss,” was all Becky managed to say.

“It’s all right, sweetheart. You’ve already paid for it. I hope you learned something from this lesson.”

Becky almost laughed to herself. Yes, I’ve learned a lot; that spanking is far more painful than I ever imagined but also strangely rewarding. And that I want to experience it again… and again. Obviously, she couldn’t say that out loud, so she replied politely, “Yes, I definitely learned a painful lesson.”

“I’m sorry I had to be so strict with you, but a punishment must be severe and meaningful. And you deserved it.”

“I know, Miss,” Becky said, blushing.

“You have a clean record now, and I hope you’ll keep it that way,” Miss Scott said in a serious tone.

“I hope that too, Miss,” Becky replied, still blushing.

“Well, that might not be enough.”

“What do you mean, Miss?”

“I can’t go through another week like the last one. I’ve been angry and stressed by your behavior: days of you ignoring me, breaking simple rules, and talking back. I appreciate that you say you’ll try harder, but that’s not enough.”

Becky’s heart skipped a beat. She knew exactly what Miss Scott was about to propose. She wanted to smile with excitement but managed to keep a serious face. “What do you suggest, Miss?”

“I think it’s pretty obvious. I want a way to make sure things stay under control, to know I can stop your misbehavior before it gets that far again. You told me about spanking, and I saw that you respond to this kind of discipline.”

“Wait, you mean you want to spank me again?” Becky asked, pretending to be shocked. She thought she could easily win an award for her acting.

“Yes, that’s what I’m suggesting. You said your mother spanked you just a week before you came here, so it wouldn’t be much of a change. You also admitted that you deserved the punishment I gave you. I want you to know your actions have consequences. That knowledge alone might help you behave better. In the end, it’s up to you. We can agree now that I have the right to punish you when needed, and if you behave, it may never be necessary again. Or you can keep testing limits and find yourself over my knee more often than you’d like. I know you’re a good person, but even good girls sometimes need guidance. So far, your mother has taken care of that. Now I’m here, and I’m willing to take over that role.”

Becky knew the act had gone far enough, even for a good actress like her. But Miss Scott’s words stirred something inside her, and she answered softly, “Thank you, Miss Scott, for caring so much about me. You’re right. I deserved that spanking, and you were right to give it. I try to be a good person, but sometimes I make mistakes, and people around me suffer. I don’t want you to suffer because of me. So yes, I think my actions should have consequences, and you are the right person to show me when I’m wrong.”

“Thank you, dear. I promise I’ll be fair.”

“I have no doubt about it.”

“Fair. And strict,” Miss Scott added.

“Of that I’m sure,” Becky replied with a shy smile.

Both women were happy, though for different reasons. Miss Scott felt calm and relieved, confident that order would return to her home. Becky, on the other hand, had fulfilled her deepest fantasy and discovered that reality was far more powerful than imagination. Most importantly, she now had the chance to be spanked again, as often as her behavior required. She became wet between her legs just thinking about it.