by Paris Annette Morreau
"You are wrong, Miss 'Know-It All'. It was Harold Robbins," Darla told April.
The discussion among the staff at the law firm of Grant and St. John was about the authorship of the book Sons and Lovers. April, a legal assistant to one of the senior partners, stated positively that the writer was D.H. Lawrence. Darla, much younger at 19, who managed all of the photocopying in the firm, insisted it wasn't.
"What do you want to bet I'm right?" Darla asked.
"I'm not going to bet you anything," April said, "because I know you won't go through with your end of the deal when you realize I've won. I've seen you refuse to honor your bets too many times."
April was a stunning, intelligent young woman with flowing auburn hair and green eyes. She got along with everyone whether she liked them or not and was considered the calm voice of reason, often settling disputes among her co-workers. Although she liked Darla, she knew the girl was spoiled and temperamental. She was famous for her bets, most of which she lost and never honored, insisting each time that she had been misunderstood or the results could not be conclusively proved. If a bet was made, April was going to see to it that this time Darla kept her end of the deal.
"I will too go through with it," Darla whined. "I promise. In front of all of these witnesses," said Darla, pointing to her co-workers. "I promise I will keep my end of the bargain if I lose. The real reason you won't bet, Miss Know-It-All, is because you know you're going to lose and when you do, everyone else will know it, too. You're just a big scaredy cat."
Darla, a petite girl with big, floppy blond curls framing her little heart-shaped face, had huge blue eyes the color of cornflowers that clearly displayed her naiveté. She did her work well, but whined or pouted when things did not go her way, which was often. She'd stamp her foot and pout, her floppy curls bouncing all over her head as she stomped around the copying room. To most of the male members of the firm, she looked absolutely adorable, but to April, she was just a spoiled little girl who needed a good spanking.
"Okay," April agreed, "if you're willing to promise that you will go through with this, I'm willing to make a bet with you. Are you sure you don't want to think about it first?"
"No!" Darla said sharply. "I don't have to think about it. There is only one book with that title and I know it was written by Harold Robbins. I'm right and you're wrong and you can't stand it."
"All right. If you are absolutely certain you want to go through with this, I'll take you on. What do you want if you win?" April asked.
"When I win, I get to spank your smart ass." Darla tossed her head, her floppy curls flying and smiled smugly.
April was pleasantly surprised. "If I win," said April, "and I will, you will come home with me on Friday night, follow my instructions, and submit to a bare-bottomed, over-the-knee spanking from me."
"I will not!" Darla advised. "A spanking is one thing, but I'm not going to go home with you and do everything you tell me to do. It's bad enough I have to do that here. I'm not going to spend my time after work doing what you say."
"Remember, Darla, if you win, you won't get spanked and you won't have to follow my instructions. Perhaps you are not as confident about winning as you pretend to be."
"I am so confident. Okay, the bet is on and you have to obey me when I win," Darla proclaimed.
"Agreed," April said, smiling.
The following morning, Friday, April carried the book into the mail room, followed by half a dozen employees who had been present when the bet had been made the day before.
"Darla," April called to the girl. "I have something to show you."
"What is it?" Darla asked, turning to face April, her long gauzy skirt twisting around her small body. "Is it the book? Oh, good! How does it feel to be wrong for once in your life?"
In response, April showed Darla the cover of the book, clearly showing the title 'Sons and Lovers' and D.H. Lawrence as the author.
Darla stared at the book in stunned silence. "No. No, that isn't the one, the book, the one I, that's not it," she finally managed to sputter.
A chorus of voices from the employees standing around the two women confirmed that it was, indeed, the book they had talked about the day before.
"That's not the one!" Darla cried. "You cheated. The bet's off."
"The bet is over, honey," April declared, looking directly at the girl then letting her gaze wander to the tight t-shirt clearly displaying her tiny nipples. "I won and I mean to hold you to the terms of our deal. You are coming home with me tonight if I have to tie you up and carry you. I'm sure some of our co-workers will help me."
Cries of "yeah, that's right", "you can count on me", "I'll help" and "I'll get a rope," filled the room. Darla was doomed.
Darla had never been spanked and she couldn't imagine what it would feel like. She'd had plenty of fantasies about spanking, but she was always the one doing the spanking. The thought of being bare bottomed over April's knee caused her to spend most of the day with a blush on her face. Throughout the day, she was surprised at the small bubbles of excitement and fear that traveled up and down her spine at the thought of her first spanking. She wondered what April's body would feel like under her; if April's small, feminine hand could cause any real pain; how long the spanking would last; if April would scold her in that teasing way she had. She tried to deny the tingle of desire she felt whenever she thought of April touching her. Darla pretended to be in a bad mood for having lost the bet and took it out on everyone who crossed her path. She stamped her feet, threw things across the photocopying center, whined and pouted. To make her day even more difficult, April went into the copying center several times to tease her about the event to take place.
April found herself looking at the clock in anticipation of the exciting prospect of spanking Darla that evening. Every now and then, she'd go into the photocopying center to tease the girl, on one occasion holding a ruler and wondering aloud if it would make a good paddle. Another time, sneaking up behind Darla and patting her plump, firm bottom, asking if she was wearing panties or pantyhose. A third time just to look at her, smiling, as a reminder of what was to come. Again to mention how quickly the day seemed to be going. Each time Darla scowled or snapped at her but April could see the mixture of fright, curiosity and excitement in her eyes.
At 5:00 p.m. April walked into the copying room. "Are you ready to come home with me, Darla?"
"I'll go home with you some other time. I didn't bring any extra clothes with me. I sort of made some plans, too. Maybe next week would be better," Darla bluffed, her heart pounding.
"Believe me, Darla, I'll provide everything you need. You'll come home with me now. Let's go."
Darla picked up her purse and walked out of the building with April. "I guess I'll follow you in my car," Darla suggested.
"You will get into my car and leave yours here," April decided.
Darla flopped herself down in the front seat of April's car, fastened her seat belt, crossed her arms over her chest and pouted. She decided not to speak to April, hoping the woman would not see through her naughty-girl facade and realize how aroused she had become.
When they arrived at April's town house, Darla was ushered inside. April attempted to take the girl's hand, but Darla shook it away.
"I'm not going to hold your hand," she said, forgetting her vow of silence.
"You are going to do exactly what I tell you to do, Darla, without question. Take my hand, we're going upstairs."
Darla threw her weight onto one leg, threw her hand toward April, rolled her eyes and looked away with an expression of exasperation. April led the girl upstairs and into her bedroom. There was an outfit laid out on the queen size bed consisting of a short, navy blue pleated skirt, a white and navy blue, double-breasted striped blouse and a pair of white, silk panties designed to accentuate the full roundness of Darla's little chubs.
"Take your clothes off, Darla, and put this outfit on," April said as she sat on the bed. It's what you will wear when I spank you."
Sighing dramatically, Darla picked up the outfit and began walking toward the bathroom.
"I don't know where you think you are going, young lady. You stand right here and change your clothes," April demanded.
Turning around and staring open-mouthed, Darla exclaimed, "I'm not going to undress in front of you. You're not my mother. Even if you were, I still wouldn't do it."
"You will follow my instructions, Darla," April informed the girl. "That's what you agreed to."
"I didn't agree to undress in front of you and I won't do it!"
April reached forward and caught Darla, took hold of her arm, pulled her over to the bed and turned her over her knees.
"Hey! Don't do that!" Darla shouted as she struggled to get up.
Ignoring her, April lifted and pulled Darla's long, gauzy skirt until it was bunched up at her waist. April was amazed at the white panties bulging with the girl's chubby moons. After a moment's admiration, April reached inside the leg of the girl's panties and up to the waistband, gathered the flimsy material into her hand and pulled the panties down the girl's firm, shapely thighs, smoothing them down her bare legs until they gathered at her knees. Her bottom now bare, April thought that only a poet had the slightest chance of justly describing the plump mounds. Perky, round, voluptuous, creamy white cheeks, shaped like a perfect peach and just as smooth.
Darla closed her eyes and blushed. She had always thought her bottom was too full for her petite body.
April glided her hand over the girl's pouting bottom, caressing, almost pinching, the tender flesh. Her nails grazed the proffered bottom while Darla shrieked and kicked.
"Stop that! You're just supposed to spank me. Just do it and get it over with," Darla shouted.
"Dearest Darla," April said, "Your pretty bottom is just as spankable as I thought it would be and I'm going to spank it good and hard. However, this is not the spanking we 'agreed' on. We agreed you would obey me this evening and receive a bet-paying spanking. You have not obeyed me and I am going to spank you for that. When you are ready to obey me, you'll get spanked again. Ironic, isn't it? A spanking for both disobeying and obeying. Almost like you can't win no matter what you do."
Without further ado, April held the girl's small waist firmly and smacked her hand down onto the chubs. Watching them spring back and blush, she struck the pudgy bottom several more times at its roundest part, fascinated at the little dance the cheeks performed and aroused at the squirming Darla under her.
April smiled as she slapped the chubby bottom before her. She had been looking forward to this moment ever since the bet had been made. She had fantasized about spanking this girl ever since she had first met the sassy teen.
Not to be reposted, reproduced or distributed, in part or whole.