"Won't you, Missy, won't you punish your naughty girl? Give me what we both know I deserve. Look…" She spun around. "See? See this naughty bottom of mine? It won't feel better until you slap it with your dear little hand. Good and hard, too. Or I'll never be able to sleep tonight, not with my guilty conscience."

My excitement flared at the sight of her buttocks, big and bulgy, all that grownup woman-flesh! Just touching it would be fun. And so would stroking or patting or caressing. But slapping it – spanking those plump cheeks – wouldn't that be even more fun? A noise burbled up inside my clogged throat, all but unintelligible, more like a grunt than a word of willingness. She must have gotten the message though, waggling her hips and twisting at the waist to glance back and utter one final plea.

"You'll do it then? Oh, you darling! How do you want me, over your lap? I might be too heavy for you, maybe I'd better just lie down on the bed, okay?"

"N-no… wait…" I managed to speak at last, spurred by an almost vehement need to object. Her backside was the target, sure, but there were things in front I didn't want to lose track of, things too interesting to bury in a bed sheet. "Not on the bed. Just stand there, right where you are, Bernadette. Just stand still and stick your bottom out, that's all."

"Oh. You-you mean like this?"

"Uh-huh. Fine."

She peered back over one shoulder, looking a bit nervous now, and then went into position again, bending even lower to make those dimpled cheeks jut out. They remained like that, tense and expectant, the skin drawn tight, certainly an inviting target. Even so, it was still too much of a muddle for me, the whole business, too strange, too sudden, too much for my inexperienced young mind to cope with; after all, how could a little girl hit a big grown-up woman? And my swing was halfhearted, hardly more than a tap.