I got home a bit earlier than usual to tidy up. I briefly debated whether the living room or kitchen were best for this scene and settled on the living room. I was already wearing my most favorite belt. I placed a wooden hairbrush in the drawer on the coffee table where it would be out of sight yet accessible.

Natalie arrived a few minutes early having changed into a classic schoolgirl uniform. I wondered what my neighbors might think if they saw a guest so clad. She looked at me demurely, seeming a bit unsure on how to begin, so I jumped in, “So, I got a call from the school. What’s this all about?”

She sheepishly handed me a handwritten note, ‘I caught Natalie copying from a classmate today during a test.’ It was signed ‘Miss Smith.’

”Natalie, I am so disappointed,” I scolded. “What did I say would happen if I ever got another note like this?”

”I’d get a spanking,” she answered meekly.

”Exactly,” I replied and took a seat in the center of the sofa. “Get over here,” I instructed, pointing to my right side.

”No, please, daddy!” Natalie pleaded.

”Darlin’ I promised you a spanking and that’s what you’re gonna get. Now get over my knee or we can go straight to the belt,” I threatened. She gave me a look that seemed excited with maybe a bit of genuine concern, but slowly moved to my right side. “Over my lap!” She slowly lowered herself and I lifted the back of her skirt and began to pull down her panties.

She reached-back in seemingly mock protest to keep her underwear up. “Please, daddy, not on the bare!”

”Nonsense, young lady. You’ve earned a spanking and you know what that means, right?” I replied.

”Yes, daddy,” she replied and relinquished her hold, helpfully lifting her hips as I eased the white cotton underwear down to mid-thigh.

I paused to admire my canvas and began to spank. At first she absorbed the swats without noise or much movement but soon was grunting and groaning as the color developed in her cheeks. At the same time she was beginning to wriggle and writhe, her legs previously tight together, now often splayed to reveal her intimate anatomy. When her cheeks were both rosy and warm, I paused. “Are you getting the message about how to behave at school?” I asked.

”Yes, sir,” she replied.

“Do I need to keep going, maybe with the hairbrush?” I queried, trying to get a sense of her limits.

”No, sir,” she answered.

I thought briefly about how to proceed and then prompted her to stand. She rubbed her rosy bottom and looked a bit surprised but excited when I ordered, “Bend over the arm of the couch,” and began to unbuckle my belt. I laid a dozen moderate strokes across her bottom, adding a darker swath to the general rosy background. She began to rise and I suggested she stay bare for a bit of aftercare. I reached into the drawer and she saw the brush. I retrieved a tube of aloe instead and squeezed dollop of the cool gel onto each cheek and gently spread it, all the while wondering if she was as aroused as I was.

A few minutes later, she had covered-up and I had poured us each a glass of Cabernet. We talked about the scene, her thresholds and ideas for what we might do next.