A Little Discipline

Afterwards I always thought that it was the heat that made me do it. It was a hot muggy day and I’d had too little sleep the night before. Also my parents had yelled at me about the police coming around while they were out. That wasn’t really my fault but I still got blamed.

The previous evening I’d been playing my music, reasonably loudly as I was the only one home. Who would it bother? No-one, that’s who.

You can imagine my surprise when the police came around and knocked on my door. I never knew someone could knock that loudly. I’d turned down the music and gone to see what they wanted.

“Evening, miss,” said the man at the door. “We’ve had a noise complaint about this address. You’ll have to turn your music down. If you’ve been playing it as loudly as it was when we arrived I’d say you need to turn it down considerably. We won’t cite you for a noise violation this time but if we have to return, we will.”

“Well, really,” I said huffily. “If someone wanted me to turn it down all they had to do was call and ask.”

“We’re told that they did but you didn’t answer the phone or hear them knocking,” the cop said, sounding rather sarcastic. “You do know that there are prescribed limits to the amount of noise permitted after ten, don’t you?”

“Not really,” I admitted. “Anyway it’s only just after ten. Someone was in a bit of a hurry to complain.”

“Five to twelve is a bit more than just after,” the officer pointed out.

I looked at my phone, surprised.

“Oh. I hadn’t noticed that it was so late. Um, I’ll turn it down.”

“The current level would be acceptable,” said the second officer, putting in his bit for the first time. “If it gets any louder we will be back.”

Feeling rather disgruntled I said it wouldn’t get any louder and the police went on their way. I glared at the house next door. Paul lived there and he was an arrogant turd. He and I did not hit it off. I just knew it was him who’d made the complaint. It was just the sort of nasty thing he would do.

Going back inside I’d turned the music right off and went to bed. I hadn’t realised that it was so late. Then I had a restless night, partly because of the heat and partly because I was fulminating over that oaf next door.

This morning I’d walked down to the local shop to grab some extra milk only to find that they were out for some reason or other. That meant I’d have to get my bike and ride to the mall and I did not want to do that. It was already warming up and I didn’t fancy riding in this heat. I decided to wait until my mother returned from wherever she’d gone and bum a ride off her. You never knew, she might even have some milk when she returned.

So I was grumbling to myself as I neared home and there was Paul’s car parked outside. Quite a nice car. If I had a set of keys I’d pinch it and drive to the mall for some milk. Not really. Even though I was eighteen I didn’t yet have my driver’s license. I was booked in for the test but until then it was either walk or pedal power.

I looked at the car and looked at Paul’s house and considered the police talking to me the previous evening. I had my house keys on me and the car was right there. If the car got scratched it would serve him right and he’d never know who did it. He might suspect it was me but he wouldn’t know.

I whipped out my keys and started to scratch the car. Started, was the word, as that’s as far as I got.

“You little bitch,” snapped Paul and his hand close on my arm while I gave a startled scream. “I’ve always known that you were a bit of a bitch but I hadn’t realised that you were also a stupid one. What the hell possessed you to try to key my car while I’m standing right here?”

“Wha? Where’d you come from?” I gasped, shocked.

“I was standing right there checking my mailbox when I saw you take out your keys. How the hell could you have failed to see me?”

I was wondering the same thing. Just how much trouble was I in? Not knowing what to say I said nothing.

“I assume that you were blaming me for the police turning up last night.” I gave him a filthy look and he laughed. “Not guilty. I wasn’t even home last night. Just got home this morning. That’s why I was checking my mail. Still, your reason doesn’t matter. Come along.”

He started heading towards his front door, towing me along as he went.

“You can’t make me go with you,” I protested, trying to pull free.

“True,” he agreed. “I suppose I really should just call the police and report the attempted vandalism.”

I went with him, ignoring the smirk he wore. We went into the house and he pushed me into the first room we came to. It was a bedroom, his no doubt. The fact that the bed was properly made seemed to back up his story that he hadn’t been home last night. I didn’t think he’d be the sort to make his bed immediately on getting up.

The next thing I knew he picked me up and threw me. I sailed through the air and landed in the middle of the bed, a king-size bed. I could feel myself going pale as various scenarios started running through my mind. Before I could panic and scramble off the bed he spoke up.

“Forget any sexual escapades you might be thinking of,” he said. “I’ve brought you here for punishment, not pleasure.”

“You’re not going to rape me?” I asked, wanting to make sure.

“In your dreams,” he scoffed. “Spank, yes, fuck, no.”

“What?” Spank me? He wouldn’t dare. Don’t be silly, I reminded myself. This is Paul. Of course he’ll dare.

“On your hands and knees,” he ordered.

I hesitantly did as I was told, looking over my shoulder to keep an eye on him. He just moved closer, standing where I was in easy reach. It was probably child’s play for him to reach over and flick my dress up, leaving my bottom exposed. I made some sort of nervous squeak when he did that but it was nothing to the squeal I made when he pulled my panties down.

“Hey, you can’t do that,” I protested.

“Odd. It seems to me that I can and have. Now why don’t we discuss your general behaviour and my opinion of it?”

The way I was crouched and the way he was standing meant my bottom was in easy reach of his right hand. He lifted it and swung as though he want to knock me clean off the bed. All I really knew about it was that my bottom seemed to explode and I was sure I was lifted into the air from the force of the blow.

I screamed, followed up by a wailed cry of, “That hurt.”

“Well, yes. A spanking is supposed to. How does it compare to this one?”

His hand came around again and I screamed again. I mean, that really hurt. He wasn’t mucking about but giving me a proper spanking. I was prepared to say that I had a couple of hand-prints on my bottom.

He continued spanking me, pacing his deliveries and lecturing me on several little peccadillos that had occurred in the past. I tried to point out that they weren’t all my fault and he rather sarcastically asked whose fault were they. I had no real answer to that as he was right. They were mainly caused by me getting up to mischief.

By the time he finished my bottom was probably glowing bright red and I was crying and apologising, not that he seemed particularly interested in accepting my apologies.

“You might as well pull up your panties and hop down now,” he said. “You can run along home.”

I stayed right where I was, crying and shaking a little. My bottom was hurting and I didn’t want to move. I was feeling rather hard done by and didn’t know what to do.

When I didn’t immediately jump off the bed Paul sighed.

“Perhaps you need an extra incentive to hop down,” he said.

He sat on the bed next to me, that same right hand that had been spanking so hard was now gently closing over my mound and squeezing it slightly. I absolutely froze in shock at that. He calmly started rubbing me, touching me where he had no right to be touching me. (I suppose that also applied to my bottom but I don’t think he considered that at the time.)

It hadn’t even occurred to me while I was being spanked but it now dawned on me that I’d found the whole experience highly erotic. To put it simply, I was turned on. The fact that he was now touching me a lot more intimately just meant that my arousal kept on growing. My tears dried up and I found myself pushing my vulva harder against his hand.

He moved onto the bed, sitting behind me, still touching me and working hard to build on my arousal. Silly virgin that I was I didn’t even realise where this was all going until he told me to look to my right.

On my right was a nice dressing table and on that dressing table was a very large mirror. Framed in that mirror was me, crouching there, naked. Well, not exactly naked, but somehow my dress was bunched around my waist meaning that I was effectively naked. My panties were down around my knees and I had no idea where my bra had gone. I hadn’t even noticed when it came off, although I had felt one of his hands stroking my breasts.

What was more important was that Paul was also framed in the mirror, kneeling behind me, trousers down and his erection right there, nearly touching me. He only had to move a little closer and he would be touching me.

“Yessss,” I hissed, not even thinking about what I was saying. “Do it. Do it now.”

He didn’t try to dissuade me. He just moved that little bit closer and his cock was starting to drive into me. I could see it happening in the mirror and I could feel it happening in the flesh. He simply drove into me, not caring about my virginal state, just roughly driving home.

I gave a small scream as he started coming into me and a slightly louder one as he broke my virginity, then a loud groan of relief as he sank fully into me. I had really needed this.

He wasn’t shy about what he proceeded to do to me. His arms were around me as he roughly mauled my breasts while he was driving into me fiercely, hard and often. I was responding savagely to this treatment, my bottom bouncing as I tried to match his efforts, pushing my breasts harder into his hands. While this was going on I was watching myself in the mirror, seeing my bottom bobbing up and down, seeing his cock thrusting in time and time again.