Darren pulled his van up in front of the house and checked the address: 24 Dutch Elm St. He grabbed his satchel, got out, and headed for the door. It opened to his knock and a young, pretty, but matronly-appearing woman welcomed him in. "Are you Darren?" she inquired.

"That's right, and you must be Mrs. Patterson. I assume Rachel is here?" Darren replied.

"Yes, I have her in her room. Would you like me to call her down now?"

"No, I'd prefer to see her in her room, if that's all right. But first, I just wanted to review..." and Darren proceeded to go over all the usual details of his service, fees, procedures, etc. He also confirmed the details of Rachel's infractions that had led her mother to contact him. It was a fairly standard story: a combination of backtalk, disobedience, and problems at school. It sounded as if it hadn't been going on for very long, however, and her mother wisely wanted to 'nip it in the bud'.

"Now you understand, Mrs. Patterson," Darren finished, "Rachel will be naked for most of her discipline, and I will be touching her 'private parts' frequently. Sexual stimulation is part of the punishment, and also tends to make the child more...receptive to her discipline, instead of resentful. Of course there will be no 'genital-to-genital' contact whatsoever."

"Yes, I understand. I talked to the Smiths and the Holloways, and they told me all about it and how well it worked for their little girls. Frankly, I can remember when I was a little girl and got a spanking; sometimes it was...exciting, too!" Mrs. Patterson half-turned away, a bit red in the face for making such a revealing comment. Darren smoothly covered over her discomfort by briskly but politely taking his leave and proceeding to Rachel's room.

He knocked, but didn't wait for an answer, opening the door and walking in. Rachel was sitting on her bed, her hands in her lap. She started and looked up as he entered. She was a smallish eight-year-old, with dark hair and eyes. "Hello, Rachel," Darren said, "I'm Mr. Darren. I understand you've been a very naughty girl." He closed the door behind him.

Mrs. Patterson couldn't resist: she cocked an ear upstairs. There was a long period in which she could hear low voices: Darren's speaking at length, her daughter answering briefly. Then...

[SMACK-SMACK-SMACK!] "AAH! AAH! AAH! Oh, Mr. Darren, pleaseI'llbegoodI'llbegoodI'llbegood!" Rachel was naked, lying over Darren's lap, her little legs kicking and her little bottom reddening under his hand as he spanked her again and again. When he judged her buttocks to be pinked enough he moved to her upper legs, smacking up and down them, left and right, moving inwards and upwards. Finally he held her cheeks apart with one hand, and spanked her so that her anus was feeling the sting as she wailed.

"Stand up," he commanded, and Rachel clambered off his lap in her eagerness to escape her discipline, frantically rubbing her bottom and thighs as she sobbed. She was a slender, pretty little girl, appearing like an angel in despair after her spanking. Her hips had not yet begun to flare, her nipples were nothing but wasp stings on her chest, and nestled between her thighs were the typical puffy cleftlips and prominent clitoris of a girl her age.

Any hopes she might have had that her discipline was over were dashed: "Hands on your head," Darren ordered, and smacked the front of her bare thighs once, sharply, to convince her to move more quickly.

"Naughty little girls should be front-spanked," he declared. He seized her reddened bottom with his left hand, making her gasp, then rained spank after open-handed spank onto her mons, cleftlips, and clitoris as she fairly wailed, deeply embarrassed to be so sharply disciplined on so intimate a place, the sting of each spank fading into a lasting burn as he reddened her private parts.

Once, in his professional judgment, she was properly disciplined, Darren stopped. He sat down on the chair and pulled her to him. He began to rub her bottom and thighs gently and soothingly. Rachel sobbed for a while, but soon her crying quieted to faint whimpers. He continued to caress her, letting his fingers stray between her thighs, now rubbing her directly on her cleftlips and clitoris. Her breath came short and her thighs moved involuntarily apart. Her pelvis rocked gently...

She didn't come; Darren didn't expect her to, at her young age. He strove to strike the right balance: enough punishment to effect behavior, but a loving and pleasurable touch as well, so that the discipline would be accepted rather than resented. He picked her up into his arms and hugged her for a while as her tears stained his shirt. He quietly reveled in the feel of the slender, naked little girl trembling in his arms; he could feel her pelvis still gently rocking against his side.

After a bit he put her down and said, "Now, young lady, you go downstairs and stand in the corner of the living room with your face to the wall, until your mother says you may move, and no rubbing!" He sent her on her way with a final SMACK! to her bottom, making her yelp and scurry.

His next appointment was a few miles away. It was a 'return engagement'; a girl who was a little older, twelve-year-old Lindsey Swinbourne. She misbehaved on a fairly regular basis, and her mother called upon Darren for his services nearly once a week.

Up 'til now Darren had disciplined her for 'routine' infractions: talking back, skipping chores, poor grades, etc. But this time...

"I caught her 'sexting'!" Mrs. Swinbourne had told him over the phone, her fury and distress evident. Darren had tried to calm her, with limited success. When he outlined his provisional plan for Liz's punishment, she seemed grimly satisfied.

When Darren entered Lindsey's room she didn't even look up. She had just come home from school, and was still wearing her blouse and skirt, which reached mid-thigh. She was sullen, silent. "Trying to be a teenager when she's not even 13 yet, eh?" Darren thought to himself, "Well we'll nip that in the bud!"

"Lindsey Swinbourne, I expected better from you, " he began. "So. You think it's 'cool' to display your nakedness to boys, eh?" She whined some excuse: she'd only sent it to her girlfriends. "And you know for sure they're not going to send it to anyone else? Lindsey Swinbourne, don't you realize when you send a photo like that, it's out of your hands! Any number of boys, and grown men, too, could get a hold of it. Don't you understand that there're lunatics out there who would take that as an excuse to stalk you? Maybe even kidnap you?" He continued a stern diatribe on her behavior lasting 5 or 10 minutes. "And to help you remember all this...well let's just say your mother and I have decided that 'the punishment should fit the crime'. Stand up," he commanded. When she didn't comply quickly enough, he reached out and smacked her bare thigh, SMAK!

"AH!" she cried out, startled, and hurried to obey. A red mark showed where his palm had been, for he had spanked her as hard as or harder than he ever had before. This was to be no token discipline.

"Strip. Now," he ordered. As she began to reluctantly unbutton her blouse, he pulled his tawse from his belt. He smacked his palm a few times with it, ominously, and she scurried to obey him with more alacrity. He usually ordered her to strip for her punishment, but somehow this time seemed...different.

Soon she stood nude before him. Her breasts were high, pointy, small, well-formed, her nipples erect with anxiety and anticipation. She was only lightly fledged between her legs, typical for her age, with just a tuft of pubic hair on her mons. Darren found her to be quite delectable.

Her hands almost involuntarily moved to cover her breasts and vulva. "Hands on top of your head!" Darren barked, and she hastily complied, barely beating a stroke from his tawse. He reached out and seized a breast in each hand. She cried out, startled: he'd never done anything like this before!

She twisted away from him, exclaiming, "No! You can't do that!"

Darren paused, and pulled his cell phone off his hip. Silently he displayed it, and pushed the appropriate buttons. Lindsey's mom's voice was heard: "Lindsey Swinbourne, you listen to me! Mr. Darren is going to punish you how he sees fit, and you just better let him do it! He can spank you, whip you, and touch you any way he wants to, and as long as he doesn't out and out rape you, you better just take it, because he can always punish you more! If I have to, I'll have him over here every day for the rest of the year, do you understand me?!" Darren clicked the recording off.

"Now get your hands back on top of your head, young lady, and I mean now!" Lindsey sobbed a bit as she shakily complied. Again Darren handled her top, kneading and working her little breasts, pinching and twisting her nipples as she gasped and moaned. "So you wanted to show yourself off, eh, Lindsey? Show your breasts? Are you proud of them?" At this Darren began to hand-spank her little breasts, scolding her all the while, "You [SMACK!] will [SMACK!] behave [SMACK!] with [SMACK!] more [SMACK!] modesty [SMACK!], is that understood [SMACK!], young lady [SMACK!]?!"

"Ah! Ah! Ah!" she exclaimed as he disciplined her, her top jiggling with each spank to the extent her small size allowed.

Finally he stopped, her reddened little breasts heaving on her chest as she sobbed. "Get over the chair, face down," he commanded and she shakily complied, whimpering. It was a familiar position for her, her tummy on the seat, her extremities hanging over either side. Darren noted in passing that both her hands and feet reached the floor. When he first had begun disciplining her, she had been able to put hands or feet on the floor, but not both at once. "She's getting so big," he mused to himself, feeling almost parental, a mingled pride and sadness at the thought.

WHACK! He brought the tawse down sharply across her bottom cheeks, leaving a red streak, as Lindsey cried out, "AAAH!" then, "AAA-AAA-AAA!" again and again as he disciplined her sternly, stroke after stroke, her buttocks jiggling and reddening fetchingly. He strapped one side, then the other, up and down her thighs, then targeted directly in the middle, strapping her repeatedly in the cleft between her bottom cheeks, the tip of the tawse snapping against her anus and the nether edge of her cleftlips as she cried out wildly, "AAAAAH! OHMRDARREN-PLEASEPLEASEPLEASE-I'LLBEGOODI'LLBEGOODI'LLBEGOOD!"

Finally he paused. Lindsey was panting, sobbing, drooping over the chair, trembling all over. "Get up," he commanded.

She stood, shakily, moving her hands to her bottom, but tentatively; sometimes he forbade her to rub. But he didn't say anything, so she held her bottom, dancing a little jig, sobbing softly, "Oh please Mr. Darren, aren't we done, please please?!"

Darren didn't deign to answer her. "On the bed. Now." Her shoulders drooped even lower and she turned, climbing gingerly onto her bed. "On your back. Knees up. Now knees apart," he continued. As she moved to obey him, her eyes widened, then she covered her face with her hands and her sobs picked up as she realized how...exposed she now was to a man's gaze, and he wasn't even her father! Darren maintained a detached, professional manner, but inwardly he drank in the sight: a pretty little girl, nearly but not quite yet a teen, developing nicely but still clearly underage, was lying naked on her back, her thighs widely spread. Her sweet cleft was only lightly fledged, still somewhat underdeveloped, puffy-lipped, her clitoris prominent. The lower edges of it were reddened from her discipline so far. A hint of moisture gleamed on her inner labia...

THWACK! Darren brought the tawse down sharply onto her gleaming pudenda. She screamed, "AAAAAH!" and her thighs convulsively moved together. Darren was having none of it. He knew exactly how hard he was strapping her. She would be reddened, but there would be no welts, he wouldn't dream of damaging this dear girl, and he knew full well that, while it certainly stung, he was not really whipping her severely. Her bottom had surely hurt worse in times past. It was more embarrassment than anything that caused her to react this way, and he was quite determined that she was going to have to live with that!

"Get those thighs apart, and I mean now young lady!" He punctuated his command with short, sharp smacks on any part of her anatomy he could reach: calves, thighs, breasts. Sobbing convulsively, she resumed her previous position, and he continued her discipline in earnest, WHACK! "You had" WHACK! "just better" WHACK! "keep these" WHACK! "thighs together" WHACK! "and keep what's" WHACK! "between them" WHACK! "off your cell-phone" WHACK! "or so help me" WHACK! "I'll be back" WHACK! "and I'll whip you so hard" WHACK! "you won't be able to sleep" WHACK! "on your back OR your tummy" WHACK! "do you understand me, young lady?" WHACK!

"AAAAAA! AAAAAA! AAAAAA! OHYESMR DARREN-IWON'TDO IT ANYMORE-IWON'TIWON'TIWON'T-PLEASEPLEASEPLEASEMRDARREN-AAAAAAAAH!"

Finally it was over. Darren tossed the tawse into his sack and sat down beside Lindsey on the bed, cradling her in his arms as she wailed and sobbed. She clung tightly, burying her face into him, staining his shirt with her tears as her shoulders shook. He stroked her hair, her arms, her back, crooning softly to her, "There there, now, Lindsey, it's all over, it's all over." He continued caressing her, sliding his hands to her tummy, up to her breasts, spending some time softly soothing them as she quivered and hiccupped. Then down her belly to the juncture of her thighs. Tightly pressed together at first, they slowly parted as he stroked her, pressing in, finally handling her full upon her cleftlips, gently tracing up and down, diving in to her inner labia to pick up a bit of the surprising amount of moisture there. Then tenderly rolling her clitoris back and forth, back and forth. Soon her hips were rocking, her sobs died away, becoming moans and pants, and in a minute or two Darren was treated to the sight and sound of this little girl on her way to becoming a big girl, who had become quite dear to him as he watched and helped her grow, crying out as she climaxed, pressing her underaged cleft against his molesting hand, arching, spasming, then collapsing back onto the bed, dazed and spent.

Darren scooped her up in his arms and she nestled into him, her head lying on his shoulder. He carried her downstairs and stood her up in the corner. "Face out and hands on your head!" he commanded, and she complied, hanging her head, red-faced, but peeping up shyly at him through her lashes. He enjoyed a cup of coffee, chatting with Mrs. Swinbourne for a while before he had to leave for his next engagement, little Lindsey's reddened breasts and cleft all the while on full display, until she was finally allowed to scurry upstairs as he went on his way.

Until the next time...

The End

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All comments madly desired!