#114) Traditional Girl

She’s such a traditional girl, it takes some getting used to, in this all-too-modern world. It’s almost as if she’s Amish, the way she choose to live. But she has electricity in her home, an old farmhouse way outside of town, and drives a car, an antiquated old thing.
It’s Friday evening, you two have a date. She calls this “courting.” You had planned to take her out to a nice restaurant in town, then to a movie. Finally, you hoped to end up on her front porch, where you’d sit in swing together and talk. The last time she let you kiss her mouth and on her neck. You have hopes to go a bit farther tonight.
But when you get there, Amelia is agitated, she’s pacing in her living room. When you arrive at her door, she hugs you close, then unpacks her thoughts.
In a distraught voice she says, “I messed up!”
“What’s wrong?” I ask, sitting down in answer to her gesture toward the couch.
She’s immediately back up on her feet, pacing. “One of my students misbehaved today in class,” she begins, obviously referring to her 5th graders. “I reprimanded him, but he talked back. So I sent him to the principal’s office…”
I reflected back on my school days, nodded, and said, “That sounds about right…”
“Not so fast,” Amy rejoined. “At the end of the day, the principal returned to my room with Jason, the student, and with his parents. The parents complained that I was too strict, and the principal, that toady, sided with them. She didn’t back me up at all!”
“That’s terrible!” I commiserated. “An administrator’s main job is to have the back of their staff,” I continued. “But, in this day and age, I’m not surprised. Parents seem to have all the power now-a-days…”
“You’re right!” she said. I saw tears in her eyes. Amelia was clearly worked-up. I stood and took her back in my arms. Amy broke down and began to sob. “The principal has never backed me up, has been more of a tormentor instead of a mentor! But I won’t be able to sleep tonight! This kind of thing upsets me so!” Her shoulders shook violently, my heart broke.
“What can I do to help?” I let Amy cry it out, just holding her close. Finally, she attempted to answer me.
“I know how I am. I turn this kind of thing inward. It doesn’t matter that I didn’t do anything wrong. I need to get it compartmentalized, so I won’t stress about it anymore…”
I looked at her empathetically, awaiting more. She seemed to shift gears.
“As you know, my family is far away. If I was back home, I’d go to my daddy, and explain the situation, and he’d ask me what he could do, just like you did, and I’d answer that I needed a good, old fashioned hairbrush spanking to clear my mind…” Amy reached out and picked up an antique-looking hairbrush off of the nearby bureau.
My jaw dropped. I found myself struggling with an inner monologue. I love to spank my girlfriend’s bottoms. It’s my favorite thing to do! I’d jacked-off to the fantasy of how perfect Amelia’s bared bum must be, what that’d be like. And here she was, jumping ten steps ahead in our “courting” ritual, and offering just that. Against every fiber in my being, the words came out of my mouth, “But you didn’t do anything wrong!”
“I know! I know it’s crazy, but that’s just how I am…”
I couldn’t argue any further. She was asking for it. She needed it. I took the brush from her hand. I sat back down on her couch. Amy laid across my lap. She wiggled her middle, getting into a comfortable position.
“It’s got to hurt. Give it to me,” she implored, her words bouncing back at me from off the floor.
I gave her seat a swat. Silence. I gave her another. I felt myself getting hard.
“It’s got to really hurt,” she repeated as she hiked her long skirt up to her waist.
I was confronted with a little slice of heaven. Amy’s panty-clad buttocks were perched on my knee. The most erotic, sexiest pair of tiny panties clung to her cheeks. Two red spots glowed, one on each perfect orb. Otherwise her skin was pale like only a redhead can accomplish pale, with a scattering of freckles on her legs. She wiggled her bottom once again. I had to shift position, my hard-on was making everything uncomfortable. I didn’t want Amelia to sense this, so began spanking her in earnest. I spanked her very hard, until her entire tush was bright red and hot, until she cried like a baby, telling myself throughout that “it had to hurt” to do her any good.
When I stopped, I thought I’d gone too far. Amelia laid there crying uncontrollably, reaching back and rubbing her abused flesh with hands inside her underwear, giving me a good view of her ginger crotch with some rubs, and a glimpse of her pink rosebud when she rubbed in other ways.
Amy spun around, sat on my lap, threw her arms around me and hugged me close. When she released her grip, her lips were pressed onto mine. And when she finally pulled back, the words poured out of her.
“Thank you! That was perfect! Do you know what you’ve done? You’ve earned the right to be my surrogate-daddy. Would you promise to spank me, anytime I need it…?”
I struggled to find the right words. “Because I love you… Yes…”

8 responses to “#114) Traditional Girl”

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