She Learns a Lesson

I had been volunteering at a local museum for a few months after work, just to do something different. Mostly, I helped to set up or take down displays.

One evening, the head of the museum told the staff that expensive reference books were being stolen from the museum and asked us to please be alert for anyone taking anything from the reserved sections.

I remembered seeing a young woman leaving that section just after closing time with books in her hand more than once, but hadn't thought much of it. Now I realized that she was our thief. We lock the main doors at 5pm, but the exit-only side doors were left open while we swept the building from top to bottom to make sure that we didn't lock anybody in overnight. Since it took 40 minutes for us to search the whole building, our thief had plenty of time to peruse the rooms to decide what to steal.

This was a small hometown museum, with no security and no real budget. It survived because of volunteers, donations, and the small fee that they charged for entrance. Most of the money went toward new artifacts and building maintenance. Stealing from this place was just so wrong that I resolved to find our thief.

The next few nights, I made sure to be in the area after closing time. On the fourth night, I heard a noise from the reserved section and quietly made my way over there. I was just in time to see the same young woman leaving the section with several books in her hand. She was a skinny waif; I doubted that she weighed 100 pounds.

Stepping out of the dark doorway, I said, "Excuse me, the museum is closed!"

She started, screamed, and sent the books flying that she was carrying.

Moving closer to her, I added, "And these books can't be checked out; this isn't a library. We both know that you have been stealing them."

"No! I haven't! I just lost track of time tonight, but thought I would borrow these to read later. Then I'd return them."

I noted, "You haven't returned anything else that you have stolen." She gasped, and I added, "I have reviewed the security camera logs for last month and I've seen you leaving with expensive items. I am going to call the police."

Her face cracked and she cried, "No!" before collapsing onto the closest chair. Staring up at me she begged, "Please, please don't call the cops! God, oh God, I am so sorry! This was so stupid, so childish; please just let me bring everything back. Please!"

The reality was that this place could barely afford electricity, much less security cameras, but, of course, she didn't know that.

"The museum will get its stuff back after your trial, and you deserve what you are going to get." I replied. Yeah, the court would maybe slap her wrist, I thought.

She wailed, "No!! I don't want to be arrested and go to jail! I'm in pre-law, I can't have a record! Please, I'll bring everything back and I'll volunteer here! Oh, please, I'll do anything to not go to jail." When I didn't respond, she suddenly changed her stature and then smirked at me, adding, "I mean anything you want me to do." She sounded pretty sincere until she said the last sentence. She made it worse by standing up and walking over to me while saying, "If you let this slide, I'll take care of you real good." Confident now, she put both hands on my chest and looking in my eyes, cooed, "Would you like to think about it while I give you a blowjob, baby?"

I stepped back and said, "No, thank you."

Confusion moved over her face as she stared at me, surprised. "Guys don't turn me down...are you gay?" she asked.

It was my turn to smirk. "No, I'm not. But you are trying to buy your way out of another problem with your body. Is that what you always do?" I asked. "Wiggle your cute little ass and watch the guys all fall over themselves to do what you want? Not this time! You have a lesson coming, one way or the other."

"What do you mean?" she asked, a bit nervously.

"Your choice and I don't care what you decide. Either you get to spend the night in a jail cell and go through the court system, or you accept my punishment," I told her, and then added, "And my punishment is the spanking of your lifetime."

Shock, anger, and then a confident look crossed her face. She said, "Is that it? The pervert wants to spank the little girl? You don't want to fuck a woman, too much for you, huh? You just want to get off while spanking me? You're disgusting!"

"You are a gorgeous woman, and under other circumstances, I'd never let you out of bed," I told her. "But you think you can get away with anything 'cause you are hot, and you don't mind spreading it around. If we fucked, you'd walk away happy about winning again. Not this time." Smiling at her, I added, "And, no, if you chose my punishment instead of jail, I would not be getting off while spanking you. I do not enjoy hurting anyone, and you would be in far too much pain to arouse me in any way."

Her face paled and her eyes widened as she took in the implications of my statement, and the choice she had to make. Her lip quivered, and she said, "Please, no. I'll do anything else you want. You can fuck my pussy, and my ass. I'll suck you like no one ever has, and I'll go around the world on you. Anything you want!"

"No, sweetie, if I did that, you would not learn that you can't use your body to get away with everything," I told her. "If you choose my punishment instead of jail, you will never think that way again."

"I'll have you arrested if you touch me. You know the courts will believe me!" she hissed.

"We are being recorded right now, see the sign?" I lied. "You have admitted to stealing materials and offering me sex to let it go. Do you really want to have parts of this recording shown to a judge? I'll do a little editing beforehand, of course."

She stared at me as she realized that she was running out of options. Suddenly she dodged around me and headed for the exit at a full run. Her hands hit the release bar on the door about a quarter second before her body slammed into the door that I had locked just a few minutes ago. She rebounded several feet, knocked over an end table, before landing on her back, gasping for breath.

I walked past her and set the table upright before turning to look down at her. She was crying hard while still gasping for breath. The tears were flowing while her sobs became louder and longer. Gasping, choking, coughing, sobbing, and whining while her limbs thrashed, she was so pitiful. I knew that 'Daddy' fell for this routine every time.

While waiting her out, the intercom from the front desk buzzed. It was my co-worker saying he was done his sweep, was ready to leave, but was wondering where I was. I told him some punks had knocked over some furniture in room twelve and that I would be a few minutes cleaning up. Then I suggested that he go home and that I would finish locking up. He agreed and wished me a good night.

I went to the water cooler and filled two cups. I drank the first cup as she finished her performance. She was still sobbing softly when I reached down to hand her the second cup of water. She took it gratefully and sipped while staring at me with puppy-dog eyes.

Standing up, I crossed my arms while saying, "We are now the only two in this building. And you have only two choices."

Anger blazed in her eyes as she realized that the waterworks had not worked either. She dropped her half-full cup carelessly on the carpet and got up to face me.

"You have no right to spank me!"

"No," I replied, "but I can give you a chance to avoid being arrested. Depends on how you look at it."

A bit hesitantly, "If I did let you, how many times would you hit me?"

I answered honestly, "I don't know. I'll spank you until I'm done."

"Don't play games with me, you bastard. Tell me what I can expect if I give in to you!"

"What you can expect is a lesson in embarrassment, humiliation, and pain," I replied and heard her gasp. I continued, "First, you will record a confession in front of the camera in this room. Then we will go to an inner room that has a sofa and no cameras. I will sit on the sofa. You will pull your slacks and your panties, if any, down and climb over my knees until you can't reach the floor.

She recoiled at the thought.

"When we are done, you will be crying hysterically and your butt will be on fire," I added.

"You could beat me for a week and I would not cry hysterically," she said, scornfully. "You'll get your jollies and we're done."

"No," I stated strongly. "We will not be done until you have lost control and feel like a little scared girl again. I promise you, that if you wish to avoid jail, you will not sit down tonight or tomorrow. I won't break the skin, or leave welts. And I won't touch you sexually, but you will be fully exposed to me, against your will, and I will beat you raw." Finishing, I said, "There will never be another time in your life that you will be sure you can get away with anything by using your body as bait."

She cringed, understanding that she truly had two options, and both were painful in different ways. With her arms around herself, she sagged against the wall for a minute while she thought about her fate.

Finally, standing upright and facing me, she quietly said, "Okay. I can't get arrested. I'll give you your confession and you can spank me; I won't fight it."

Well said, I thought. But the quivering of her lower lip showed her fear.

I nodded and said, "Please face the mirror." It was a good of a place as any to pretend that there was a camera.

I began asking questions starting with her name.

"Ann Smith," she replied.

I made her tell her address and phone number, as well as that of her mother. Her father had left them many years ago, and she had no idea where he was. I found out that she was 23 years old, and was studying law at the state university, hoping to get into law school next month.

Then she confessed to stealing books, saying that she liked their feel and smell, and up to tonight, thought that it was a lark to sneak out with them. I thought that the tears in her eyes might be real this time. She promised to return all stolen items.

I said, "Good enough. If you haven't changed your mind, we will go to room fourteen now."

She nodded and preceded me to the employee break room. She stood in the middle of the room as I sat down in the middle of an expansive sofa.

"You can either change your mind, or come over here and pull your pants down," I told her.

After a brief hesitation, she walked over to me and put her hands at the front of her jeans. I knew that she expected me to watch her pull them down, or at least look when they were down, so I made a point of staring her in the eyes while she bared herself.

After a few seconds, she realized that I wasn't going to look down, and bent her body over my lap. I watched her naked butt slide up my lap until her feet could not touch the floor.

Wrapping my left arm around her waist to hold her in place, I just stared at her ass. It was so small. I knew it would be small from seeing her in her jeans, but bare, it was just so small. I realized that my hand was wider and longer than each cheek.

She was clenching those cheeks and squeezing her legs together tightly, her pants and panties just below the bottom of her butt.

I pulled her pants down farther, saying, "Your thighs are going to get it too."

Looking back at me, her hands on the floor supporting her upper body, she hissed, "I know why you are going to beat my ass, why are you going to hit my thighs; you just get off on hurting me?"

I ran my finger across the top half of her cheeks and said, "I can't hit you above here, you don't have enough fat and it is too close to your spine." Moving my hand upward, I said, "And your kidneys are right here." Going to the outside of her hip, I noted, "Hitting you here might bruise your hip bone." Then I cupped the bottom of her right cheek and added, "I can only hit you down here, and if I only spank your two little cheeks, you will really be hurting."

A look of surprise crossed her face, she uttered a quiet, "Oh," and turned back, letting her head hang down, and then whispered, "Go ahead."

"It's not that simple, Ann," I told her. "Yes, I am going to spank you. But I am hoping that you are thinking, right now, about what you did to end up in this situation. You are an intelligent, beautiful young lady with the chance for a great life and career ahead of you." Squeezing her waist firmly, "And here you are, lying over my lap with your pants down. Real smart, huh?"

She didn't respond. After a few seconds, I raised my hand and landed it on her right thigh firmly. She didn't react so I repeated on her left thigh. Still no reaction: she was determined to just get through this passively.

I swung hard and connected with her left butt cheek. She convulsed and let loose with an unplanned, "Uuhhhhhh!" as both her upper body and her legs jerked upward. Immediately, I repeated, maybe even harder, to her right butt cheek, and she again writhed while screaming out loudly.

After a few seconds, she settled back in my lap, moaning. Her cheeks didn't show a light pink color; they were both bright red, showing the shape of my hand. She was still holding her legs tightly closed and was clenching her butt cheeks, but she was again silent.

Deciding that it was time to break her, I began a series of slaps, first her right thigh, then her left, then her left cheek, followed by the right. At first she remained quiet, but after the eight or ninth round, she cried out in agony. After that, each smack brought out a cry of pain.

After another dozen hits, I realized that she was gagging and choking, unable to get her breath while bent over my lap. I rotated to the left and pulled her upper body onto the sofa, leaving her legs to dangle, but giving her a chance to catch her breath.

I waited a minute, and then put my hand on the center of her back, holding her down on the sofa. I began to beat her again; this time she made no effort to keep her cheeks clenched or her legs closed. She thrashed uncontrollably while crying out at each hit.

When I took a break, she was sprawled over my lap, sobbing. Her butt and thighs were bright red and her right foot was dangling on the floor, which left her womanhood exposed fully to me. She was such a wonderful shade of pink inside, her lips so delicate and uniform. Her tiny butt cheeks did nothing to hide her anal opening, which was a classic starfish, so small and tight.

After a couple of minutes her sobs quieted. I lifted her by her shoulders, saying, "Come on, we're done, let's get you on the sofa." When she was stretched out face down on the sofa, I went over to the first aid kit and found the topographical anesthetic spray. Clean hand towels are kept under the sink so I grabbed one.

Kneeling down, I said, "Ann, I have some spray that will take the pain away, but it's going to feel cold, okay?"

She opened her eyes, which were red and swollen, and nodded once. I sprayed her ass and then covered her with the hand towel, noting that the small towel was more than big enough to completely protect her modesty.

Going to the staff refrigerator, I got out a pair of sodas, and then, seeing the aloe-based skin moisturizer on the sink, I took it back to Ann.

Again kneeling down beside her, I opened one soda and handed it to her. As she drank, I showed her the moisturizer and said, "Ann, this will make you feel better and heal sooner, but I won't touch you again without your permission. You can rub this in yourself, or just leave -- or let me do it for you. It is totally up to you again."

She stared at me for a few seconds before answering, her voice hoarse from her crying, "Please do it for me." She stared at me again and added, "It's not like you are not already familiar with my private parts."

Nodding, I lifted the towel off of her blood-red ass. I squirted a generous amount of moisturizer on my hands and rubbed them together to warm them before touching Ann. At first touch, she stiffened and moaned in discomfort, but almost immediately, she relaxed as the moisturizer began to be absorbed into her abused cheeks and thighs.

I marveled at how soft yet firm she was as I coated her with the aloe. Finishing, I wiped my hands on the towel and then covered her with it-- my last view of her pussy and asshole.

Telling her to rest and let the aloe soak in, I made the rounds and locked up the rest of the doors. When I returned to the break room, Ann was standing in the middle of the room.

She quietly said,"I am ready to leave now."

I led her out the main entrance, locked up, and watched her walk away from the museum. I expected that she would never show her face (or butt) here again.

But I was surprised the following Wednesday, as, just at closing time, Ann walked in with a stack of books in her hands. She deposited them on my desk, and, without saying a word, walked out of the building.

Thursday, she repeated the action, this time stopping to say, "I will give back the rest tomorrow nigh; this was all I could carry. But I want the tape of my confession destroyed then, agreed?"

Remembering that age and deceit always triumph over youth and innocence, I said, "I deleted it yesterday evening. There may be archive files that show you leaving with books, but your confession is gone and you are in the clear.

She nodded and left.

Friday evening, she returned with the final four books. Setting them on my desk, she sat down and asked,"We are even now, right?"

"We are even and done. I have no embarrassing evidence on you. You are safe and clear," I confirmed.

"Good," she said. Then she leaned over my desk. I expected that she planned on slapping me. Instead, she reached into my shirt pocket and deftly plucked out my cigarettes.

I just stared at her, at a loss.

Smirking, she slipped the full pack into her blouse, probably into her bra. Now laughing at me, she said, "You want them back?" She began walking away, still laughing.

Then she turned and said, "I'll be in room fourteen."