Lover's Games

Authors note: Thanks to the widow for the edit.

Lover's Games

I sniffled as I stood in the corner, my pink thong at my knees in a tangled untidy rope. I was feeling most sorry for myself, and my bottom throbbed, burned, and seemed to grow bigger every second I stood there. Although it could have been worse. I could have been seated in the corner. I thought, as miscreant girls are supposed to, about my latest spanking from my roommate, Linda.

"Look, I don't know why you're harping on me! I told you I would do my chores. That doesn't mean I have to drop everything and do them right now!" And that was said with a most teenage tone and matching flounce and huff in case she was too dense to figure out how stupid I really thought she was.

"I mean, I have had a bad day at work and I should be allowed to have a drink and sit and relax for bit if I want! Sheesh!"

And that was all Linda took before she stood up, tall, way taller than me even without her heels. And she walked over to me, close, so close I had to look up, neck cranked to see her. I suddenly wasn't as confident as I had been, moments before, but I couldn't seem to look down, or away, either. And when she spoke, that soft alto voice made the butterflies in my tummy flutter madly.

"Oh, is that so, Miss Bobbie Sue Walker! You don't know why I¹m harping on you? How about the fact that those chores I'm so unfairly on you about, were, by our little agreement, supposed to have been done and finished five days ago! Oh, I'd blush too, young lady! But I've let that slide, I¹ve even taken care of some of them for you, without even the mildest of thanks, because I knew how much you had going on. I didn't even bring it up till yesterday, now did I? No, I didn't. And now you act as if I'm the wicked witch of the west, when in fact, You are the one who's been acting the spoiled little girl!"

I started sniffling, knowing what was going to happen next. And sniffling also, because I was ashamed. Because it was all true.

"And you, by now, missy, should know what happens to naughty, spoiled girls!²

And that glare let me know this wasn't a rhetorical question. And I sobbed out my answer.

"Th-they get s-spankings, Linda..."

"You bet they do, young lady. And it's time for yours!"

I yelped as fingers found my ear, and led me down the hall to her bedroom. I stood where she placed me, ever so obedient and contrite, now. Now that it was too late, as she got her vanity chair, and turned it into the room, and retrieved her large oval hairbrush. My crying started then. She wasn't moved, however.

I was told to come to her, when she was seated, and I felt soft, strong fingers at my waistband, undoing buttons and zipper, then wriggling the tight slacks off my fanny and hips. They finally came down, along, partway, with my panties. And my hands were on her shoulders, out of the way, like she preferred, and I bit my lip, flushing.

"Lift," she ordered.

And I did, lifting first one, then the other foot, so that my pants could be taken off. The crying was partly because being so undressed like a child embarrassed me. She didn't want the clothing in the way should she choose to change positions. She didn't want my frantic kicking and spreading of legs in a most immodest manner stretching and tearing my good work slacks. And she didn't want my legs bound, as she liked it when I kicked and fussed like a little girl when punished, knowing I would flush and tear up in shame later, when the immediate effects of my spanking had lessened and I had time to reflect on the whole experience.

Her chair was high, on purpose, bought more for this than anything else. It served to further reduce my adult status, as my toes scrabbled to stay on the floor. Then the spanking and lecture started, her hand firm and warm and hard and loving and strict, all at once. Her voice as she lectured me, wasn't that of a roommate, but was maternal, sisterly, aunt-like, as she took me to task, listing my faults, telling me what I should have done, and what I needed to do differently.

As she spanked me, I knew she only did it because she loved me. But her hard hand was applied to my bottom 'till the tears, which wet my face, were from true distress, and not the imagined (but no less real) distress before the spanking. Despite my cries and sobs that it was enough, and that I couldn't take anymore, I did.

A pause, I hope without breathing, and start to sob as my hope disappears as those fingers go to the waistband of my little panties that she bought me, and tug and roll them down my thighs, to just above my knees. I feel her reach around, and grab the brush, the same brush I adore when she is using it for it's other purpose, sometimes falling asleep in her arms as she brushes my hair. I will not be falling asleep today.

The brush did it's wicked work, as she questioned me this time expecting answers back. It became a sort of litany, as we reviewed the short list of rules and standards that we had worked out since I had moved into her house. And I assure you, there was NO hesitation, fudging or evasiveness in any of my answers. My mind was remarkably focused on the events at hand. Then it was over, and I was led, sobbing abjectly, into the corner she kept bare, just for my use.

Sometime later, I was called out of the corner, and I went to where she stood. I dug my toe into the rug just like a well-punished little girl, while she told me that I was going to do my chores right now, just as I was...panties down, bare fanny on display. And she set time limits for each of the chores. If I failed to meet the time limit, or was sloppy in my work, I was told I was going back over her knee that very instant.

Twice more I was back over her knee for no-nonsense spankings. The first time I was spanked when I failed to meet a time limit. And the second spanking was because I became sloppy in a desperate bid to finish on time.

After the last chore was finished, she came to me, as I stood there, head down, face red, tears slowly falling, and she wiped my eyes, and blew my nose, and kissed me gently on my forehead, my eyes, the tip of my nose, and my lips. And she told me that she loved me, that she cared for me, and that she hated to see me let myself get like this.

She placed the dinner that I had been cooking on the table, the same table that I had just finished setting as the last of my chores. She asked if I wanted panties on, and I shook my head no. She gave that gentle loving laugh, and said she understood. Kneeling down she eased my panties from around my ankles.

I was still bare from the waist down. But now, without the panties at half mast, I felt less childish, if that makes any sense. She sat, and I sat on her lap, fanny hanging off so it wouldn't touch her legs. And she made sure we both got enough to eat. It was a very tender moment with her feeding me. And gently, lovingly scolding me about taking better care of myself. I got all courses, and dessert, and two glasses of wine, and I was so-o-o-o tired and sleepy.

She laughed gently, lifted me up, and took me to the bedroom, hers again, and to her bath, and got me ready for bed. When she was done, I wasn't redressed, but led bare to her bed, she turned the sheets down, and laid me down, mostly on my tummy, partly on my side.

She laid down facing me, and kissed me, softly, gently. As I didn¹t resist she became more insistent. As I moaned she tentatively probed with her tongue and my lips flowered open for her. Both my bottom and my sex pulsed and throbbed. She rubbed my bottom, and her fingers, soft soft fingers, slid between my lips and inner thighs. I crooned wordless love poems in her ear.

And soft knowing fingers swept between those puffy lips that seemed to melt, and took that moisture I offered her, and she slid inside, while lightly and softly circling my firm and greedy little clit.....

And as I fell asleep in her arms, relaxed, sated, happy, contented, at peace, loved, I heard her whisper in my ear, the one she had been nibbling on moments before,

"I love you, little one."

And I murmured back, "And I love you, Linda, I love you so much."

And I dreamt happy dreams about how I was going to be her good girl tomorrow, and how I was going to wake her up in the morning in my bestest naughty good girl way.