by Frank Martinet
A tearful Stacy winced and grimaced as she mounted the stairs to her room, every movement antagonizing the raw, ruined flesh of her buttocks. She was keenly aware she was naked, and even more keenly aware that her butt was the color of a fire engine and as hot as a grill on the fourth of July.
She also knew that the whole world - well, the entire Collins household, at least - were getting a fine view of those aforementioned crimson cheeks as the broad staircase was along one side of the great room with the thirty-foot ceiling. Stacy's father was an architect and the elegant glass staircase he'd designed was a key feature, but unfortunately it did nothing to hide the young lady's nudity, nor did the glass balcony she had to walk along next.
Stacy finally reached the privacy of the corridor and a few steps down arrived at her room. She gratefully slipped inside, firmly closing the door behind her, and flung herself on her bed - face down, of course - for a long self-pitying sob. When her tears were gone she got to her knees and grabbed some tissues from the box by her bed and noisily blew her nose and dried her eyes and face.
This was not an unfamiliar situation for Stacy Collins. For as far back in her eighteen years as she could remember, she'd been subject to her parents' strict discipline. They were spankers and believed in old-fashioned values like hard work and children obeying their parents. Stacy thought such things were a bit ridiculous in this day and age. Who spanked any more? Wasn't it outlawed? If it wasn't, it sure ought to be, she thought miserably.
Of course, it had been entirely her fault. It always was. Her parents were very clear about the rules. Stacy knew when she stayed out past curfew it would mean a spanking, but somehow at midnight, hanging with Richard and Darla and the gang, it had seemed like a distant and far-fetched possibility. She also had to admit she'd been a little buzzed. It was a good thing her parents hadn't known she'd been drinking or her butt wouldn't have any skin left.
That thought reminded her to check on the condition of said anatomy. With a groan at the pain the movement caused, Stacy walked over to the full-length mirror at her closet and looked at herself. She was pleased with what she saw. She was no Jennifer Aniston, her favorite star, but she wasn't bad looking. She was on the tall side at five-nine, and sturdily built. Not fat at all, for she was on the basketball team and an active athlete, but she was certainly solid. Her breasts were large and required a sports bra when she exercised, and they tended to embarrass her, since they made her feminine sex so obvious. When she walked into a room, all the men would stare. They were admiring stares, but they made Stacy feel self-conscious and awkward. She was still a tomboy at heart.
Stacy flipped her long rod-straight golden hair over her shoulders and studied her face critically. When her self-esteem was low, she thought herself as too bland. After all, she was an ordinary blue-eyed honey blond and there was little distinctive about her. But when she was in a better mood, she noticed subtle things that made her special: the delicate lips, strong brow, and the tiny dimples that blossomed on her high cheeks when she smiled, all features inherited from her lovely mother. And at least she had only received a portion of her father's royal nose. Hers was strong and not exactly dainty, but it fit her face well, better now than it had in her early teens when it had dominated too much. She had to admit that her deep blue eyes were rather spectacular, a vivid cobalt that glowed like fine glass.
But Stacy still thought her face had too much little girl in it. She was cute like a young Elisha Cuthbert, but she wanted to be beautiful and elegant and be treated like an adult. At least she finally had the body of a woman. There was no way anyone could mistake her for a little girl with sweet grapefruit-half tits like hers.
She rotated her hips and shoulders so her backside was curled toward the mirror and stared at the horrible sight. The butt itself was much too large for her liking, her wide hips and short stocky thighs giving her an embarrassing big-bottom look, but what was there was all natural: there wasn't an ounce of unnecessary fat, for her cheeks were as firm and solid as hams. Just like her proud breasts made her feel all tits in front, she felt all ass from behind, and it didn't at all help when her butt was a giant purple blob, as it was right now.
She winced as she studied the sore flesh. Her normally smooth pink skin was ravaged into a swirling sea of magenta, crimson, and lavender. She could see the overall pinkness, generated by her mother's long hand-spanking, but that was overlaid with the darker purplish blotches caused by the heavy wooden hairbrush. There were streaks of scarlet from her father's leather belt, and then the entire mess was overwhelmed with a batch of ruby blisters from the big oak paddle. The skin felt leaden and hot, and it throbbed relentlessly, though Stacy had to admit that the intensity had cooled from the magma rock level of earlier.
Stacy blushed as she thought of how she'd looked just minutes ago, howling and kicking like a three-year-old across her mother's lap. Spankings were so undignified and humiliating. Wasn't she an adult? Why did she still have to endure such childish punishments? At least, she reflected with a sigh, this would be her last spanking for a long, long time. Hopefully forever, but knowing her parents, that might be too optimistic. But soon she would be far from their reach for a while.
In three days Stacy would be leaving for college. She'd been accepted at Ohio University. It was still in state, as her parents had insisted on that, but it was about as far from Cleveland as she could get! She grinned as she thought of all the fun she was going to have. College was going to be a blast. Away from her parents and all their damned rules, finally free to hang out with guys without feeling guilty, Stacy had already decided that her first year in college was not going to be focused on academics. She'd had enough of that with her parents' strict standards throughout high school, checking her progress constantly and insisting she spend half her life with her nose in books. No, Stacy needed a break, and she was going to have fun!
A warm glow of happiness filled the teen as she thought of her upcoming independence. It took her mind off the ache of her buttocks and she drifted, only long minutes later realizing with a sharp blush that her hands had found their way between her legs and she'd been actively rubbing herself. She was totally hot all over, her body alive with desire, and she gulped as she felt moisture trickling down her thigh. She felt guilty as she looked around the room, taking her sticky, dripping hand away momentarily, but she was alone. She straightened, feeling bold and confident, telling herself that she was an adult now, almost a college girl, and if she wanted to masturbate than she'd damn well masturbate! She thrust her fingers back inside herself with a daring grin and gasped at how good it felt.
The sudden rapping at the door hit her like a sledgehammer. For a long moment in the haze she couldn't identify what it was, and then her body panicked and she flew to her bed, flinging herself under the covers, her face crimson with embarrassment. She just made it as the door opened tentatively, her mother's pretty blond head poking her way in.
"Stace? You awake?"
"Yeah, Mom, come in."
The door swung open completely and in stepped both her parents. Stacy bit her lower lip, for her body was in a ridiculous state. Her heart was pounding at two hundred beats a minute, she was covered with sweat and her internal juices, and her ass throbbed as her cheeks pressed into the mattress. Worst of all was the unsatisfied hunger between her legs she'd only just started to fulfill, and though the unexpected sight of her parents had muted her arousal, it had not completely eliminated it.
"We need to talk to you, Stacy."
"About college," nodded her father. He shut the door behind him and Stacy felt a stab of fear strike her heart.
"What? Oh no! You can't change your mind! Everything's planned, everything's in place. I'm enrolled, the tuition's paid, everything's done. I leave in three days!"
"Shhhh. Hush dear, it's nothing like that. You're still leaving on Wednesday as planned."
"Oh." Stacy gulped air and felt her heart slow as her panic ebbed. She licked her dry lips. "Then what is it?"
Roger glanced at his wife, then back at Stacy. "Your mother and I are concerned. I know we agreed to let your choose your school, but we're uncomfortable with you being so far away."
"Hey, I'll be fine."
"Will you? This latest episode of yours doesn't have me convinced. I thought you were growing up, finally taking some responsibility for yourself. We gave you additional freedom, extending your curfew to midnight this summer, and what do you do but stay out partying until three in the morning! That is telling us that you're not ready to be on your own."
"Dad, that was a one-time thing. I told you, the guys were just giving me a going-away party. I lost track of time, that's all."
Claudia Collins shook her head at her husband. "We've already dealt with that, dear, so let's not discuss it any further. Go on, just tell her."
"Tell me what?"
Roger pulled the chair from the desk at the corner and sat in it facing his daughter. His wife perched herself on the end of the bed. "Stacy, you need discipline. You are a rambunctious, impulsive girl, and without guidance and discipline, we're worried you're going to get into serious trouble."
"Dad, I'll be fine! I told you, this was a one-time thing. Come on, I'm eighteen!"
"That's why we're worried. At eighteen, you should know better. The fact that you don't tells us you still need proper discipline."
Stacy rolled her eyes. "So what, you're going to move to Athens to keep an eye on me? You want weekly video reports? Am I going to have to wear an ankle bracelet like those paroled prisoners? Are you going to implant a GPS chip in me so you'll always know where I am? God, you guys are pathetic!"
Roger Collins frowned. "Young lady, I do not like your tone," he growled in an ominous voice, and Stacy shut her mouth and bit her lower lip muttering, "Sorry."
"Now listen to us. Your mother and I are of one mind on this and there is going to be no discussion. If you wish to go to Ohio University you will comply with our plan or you can live here and go to Cleveland State. Those are your only choices."
Stacy shuddered at that prospect. Living at home would mean one thing: spankings. She'd have to study and keep to all kinds of awful rules or face having her bottom blistered like it was right now. No way. There was no fucking way she was going to put up with that for another four years!
"Fine. What is this plan of yours?"
"Do you remember an associate of mine named Anthony Harley?"
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