At eighteen going on nineteen, Jennie was in her last year of schooling at her sixth form college.

Jennie went to a good private school and, although a lovely girl, kind and thoughtful, she was not academically gifted. Now, while saying that, I'm not suggesting she was stupid or anything like that. No, far from it. She just lacked application, got distracted easily, was easily led by her close friends, and enjoyed socialising instead of studying.

As a result, she had not got the grades she required in her final year exams in English and Maths. This came as no great surprise to her parents, who had been warned by her teachers about her lack of coursework, homework, and classwork. Still, it was a huge disappointment.

After much discussion with the college, it was agreed that she should stay at the sixth form college and repeat her final year there in the two subjects she now required. This would give her extra tuition in those subjects and ample free periods for extra study.

Jennie also had a bit of a wake-up call herself during the period before the start of the next academic year. Realising her mistakes, she wished she had more self-control and motivation, and for a more formal structure and consequences in her life. She just didn’t know how to effect the changes she knew she needed in herself.

During the summer holiday break, she got a job, cleaning, tidying, and doing some minor secretarial work for an old gentleman her family knew. Donald Peterson, who was seventy, was a retired ex-company director, very well off, divorced for thirty years, and quite an old-fashioned man. Although seventy, he was still very active, enjoyed walking, and loved fine dining and wine.

Jennie went to his house four days a week for six hours each day, tidying, dusting, cleaning, sorting the laundry, fetching shopping, and typing correspondence for him. She was paid very well for her work but had had one or two run-ins with Mr Peterson because of her lack of attention and carelessness at times. On several occasions, he had even made comments under his breath, which he didn't realise Jennie had heard that what she needed was her bare backside given a "Damned good, long, hard old-fashioned strapping."

What Mr Peterson also didn't know was that while he gave Jennie full access to his study and computer, so that she could do his office work, that she had also stumbled across his 'hidden' folder of kinky stories he had written. These were all spanking-related and detailed his fantasies of spanking girls hard, but they also showed he was caring and far from cruel or sadistic. He simply loved seeing and detailing a girl's bottom being turned bright red and obviously genuinely very, very sore and thoroughly punished.

Jennie also realised that several of his latest stories were obviously fantasies based around her. The stories told of quite severe, but warranted, discipline for errors, mistakes, and thoughtlessness that she had actually committed whilst working for him. They detailed her being bent over his knee and being spanked over her skirt, dress, and jeans, but also frequently on the skin-tight lycra leggings she so often wore. Mr Peterson went into great detail about how her bubble butt looked beautiful in the leggings, how quickly the sight would get him excited and erect, and how much he loved seeing her bottom getting redder and redder under them and hearing her yelping, loved her legs kicking, and the tears flowing as her bottom got sorer and sorer.

To her surprise, Jennie realised that the bits she enjoyed most reading was when she had to stand up, tears running down her cheeks, her bottom already on fire, but now having to pull the leggings down to have the spanking continue over her panties and then again on her bare bottom.

She would sit at his desk, her panties getting wetter and wetter, as she read on about how after her bare bottom spanking she had to then bend over his desk and get her already extremely sore bare bottom (the very words 'bare bottom' always sent erotic shivers through her) thoroughly strapped with a thick leather belt he called a tawse. She found the descriptions of how sore her bottom looked and how the thick raised painful welts covered her whole bottom and thigh tops, so exciting.

She did wonder how being thrashed so hard as described in the stories always got her knickers wet as the pain must be horrific, yet her knickers were always damp, and even as she walked home, she was still wondering if the reality of being thrashed would match the fantasy described in those stories about her. It was just a shame that she didn't dare to ask Mr Peterson to thrash her just once so that she would know.

However, towards the end of the summer holidays, Jennie did something which changed everything for her. Mr Peterson had been unwell for a while which had necessitated him staying in hospital for a couple of weeks. On his discharge, he had to convalesce at home and stay in bed most of the day until he got used to his new medication and his back problem improved. Jennie went in every day, and just generally looked after him.

It was on Friday that she got distracted. While preparing lunch, she had picked up Mr Peterson's Martin guitar, which she knew she was forbidden to touch herself. He had another guitar on which he had been giving her lessons to play but she went for the better one. Whilst concentrating on playing the guitar she totally forgot about the soup cooking in the kitchen. Next thing the smoke alarm was screeching, she dropped his precious guitar and ran into the kitchen to see flames as well as black smoke billowing out of the pot.

Mr Peterson was soon behind her, grabbing the fire blanket off the wall, and he quickly covered the burning pot, having switched the electric cooker off first.

Disaster was avoided but there was significant fire damage to the cupboards above the cooker, thick black acrid smoke hung in the air, and sooty residue covered everything.

Beside herself, Jennie just stood there rigid, crying as Mr Peterson tore a strip off her. She had all but ruined his kitchen, which would require considerable work and expense to put right, and in her flight to the kitchen had dropped his beloved guitar, which had crashed into the log burner and been badly damaged.

Only just controlling what he said, he told Jennie to leave immediately and that her services were no longer required.

When Jennie's parents found out what she had done, there was hell to pay. She apologised profusely but realised that was far from enough.

College was due to restart in a fortnight, and over the weekend Jennie made some far-reaching decisions. Her English course required her to produce a lengthy essay on a subject of her choice and she now knew what subject it would be on. She did a lot of looking her subject up on the Internet, reading, looking at videos, and getting as much information as she could before Sunday when she had agreed with her parents she would return to Mr Peterson, apologise for her shocking behaviour, and tell him that her parents would pay for the work necessary to repair his kitchen.

On Sunday morning at 11:30 am Jennie arrived at Mr Peterson's home. She had her white college short-sleeved blouse on and a pair of the tight leggings she remembered Mr Peterson commented on so excitedly in his stories. She rang the doorbell and when Mr Peterson answered he was still in his pyjamas. Jennie asked if she could come in as she had several things that she needed to tell him and discuss with him.

Jennie heard the grunted, "Yes," and walked past him and straight into his study, where she stood in front of his desk. As Mr Peterson entered, he could not help but notice what Jennie was wearing and it had the effect it always did, and his cock got very hard and was plainly bulging in his pyjamas.

Mr Peterson sat at his desk, but Jennie remained standing, as though she was attending the headmistress's study to be told off. Jennie began by apologising profusely but qualifying that by adding she knew that an apology was miles away from adequate. She told him that her parents had offered to pay for the work necessary to correct all her damage.

She then went on to elaborate on the thoughts she had had over the weekend. She explained about her failing exams, her lack of commitment, other life issues, and about her having to resit her final year. She explained how she knew she had to change things but couldn't on her own. She needed firm discipline in her life, consequences, and harsh punishment when she went wrong. She then detailed how she intended writing her final essay on the rights, wrongs, benefits, and methods of discipline, and how its changes now had impacted adversely on people and society.

Jennie told Mr Peterson how she had already spoken with the headmistress of the college about her chosen essay subject and how she hoped she would help her. After much discussion, persuasion, and cajoling, the headmistress had agreed to Jennie's requests. Every Monday of the coming term, Jennie would go to college early directly to the headmistress's study. She would review her work and see how the class set that she was assigned to had performed compared to the other sets in the class. Jennie had deliberately asked to be put in one of the sets that she knew would be an underperforming one. As well as being punished if her own work was below standard, if her set had each time reached fewer points than an agreed average, she would be punished even more, and so it was agreed that her punishment that morning for her own work would increase proportionally depending on how badly the set had done.

If the set got a good enough mark but Jennie’s work was not up to standard, then her punishment would always start with a long hand spanking over her skirt, then her panties, and finally her bare bottom. The bare bottom spanking would go on until she was very sore, her bottom scarlet, and she was absolutely sobbing.

In addition, as an extra punishment that would happen every time her set didn't exceed expectations, which Jennie knew and intended to be every time, would involve her getting the strap on her bottom. If the set only equalled where they should be, or worse, then before she bent over the headmistress's lap to be spanked, she had to go to the teacher's cupboard, pick out one of the straps, and give it to her. She would then take her skirt off, fold it, and place it on the desk before bending over it. She would then get three hard lashes as she bent over the desk, six if they fell behind that target and nine if it was a lot behind.

The spanking across the headmistress's lap would then follow, firstly on her panties. After being spanked on her panties she would have to remove them, fold them on top of her skirt, and then go back across the headmistress's lap and have her bare bottom spanked, and that would continue until she was crying buckets. After being spanked on her bare bottom, she would have to bend over the desk again to get her bare bottom strapped again. This would be either twelve, eighteen, or twenty-four lashes again depending on the set's comparative performance. It was also agreed that all bare bottom punishments would be very hard and sufficient to leave welts that would last several days, and no matter how sore her bottom was after the strapping, the bare bottom spanking should still be very hard and make her very sore.

Jennie also explained that every Monday punishment meeting should end with Jennie being unable to sit for a good while and have her crying uncontrollably for long after she left the head's office. If the headmistress or Jennie didn't think the punishment was enough, or that Jennie was obviously not sore enough, and crying enough, then the headmistress was to repeat the bare bottom strapping and spanking again.

Jennie looked straight into Mr Peterson's eyes, and said, "Now, this is where I need your help...PLEASE. I know I have not done my best when I worked for you and have caused you great distress recently, and I wish not only to make amends for that today but would really appreciate you becoming a guardian to me, and specifically a spanking guardian. I read your private stories on your computer and know you have fantasised a lot about spanking and strapping my bottom. I want you to do that, thoroughly, genuinely, and very hard whenever and as often as necessary, or when you simply want to. I would like it to be like the old days too, so punished at college and then punished again on coming home so every Monday not only will I get spanked hard at college, but when I finish there at midday, I have to come straight here, go to my room, being your spare room, stand at the foot of 'My bed,' and wait for you to come in and punish me again on my already sore, red bottom. I will tell you what punishment the headmistress gave me, and you will repeat it. You must do it at the very least for as long and as hard as she did, and more if you wish. However, home punishment must be more than what I got at college. So, once you have finished with this punishment, I would like you to send me to my bedroom, tell me to get into my pyjamas, which I will bring over here, scold me severely on my behaviour, and tell me you will be back in twenty minutes to put me over your knee and give me a good long hard slippering over my jammie bottoms, before removing them and slippering my bare bottom. I know if you do this that I will be a much better, thoughtful, and studious girl."

Jennie was watching Mr Peterson and saw he was following every word and so continued. "Now finally, for me and you, I would very much ask if you would punish me now. I want you to do the following and this is the punishment I am assigning to myself for you to administer. I would then ask you to add a second hiding that you consider you would like to give to me. That should be very real, make me very sore, and be something that I won't forget in a long time."

Jennie then explained what the first punishment should be. "First, I want you to make me bend over your desk and thrash me with your strap over these tights I know excite you, with twelve hard lashes. Then tell me to remove my tights and bend back over your desk and leather my bottom with eighteen hard strokes. After that, make me stand and, whilst facing you, remove my panties. The whole time I stand there on display you scold me, for several minutes. This is to embarrass me as my sex will be clearly visible, but also to allow my bottom to recover just a little, but not too much, as I want it still very, VERY sore when you make me bend over your desk again and give me thirty-six more hard lashes on my bare bottom."

Jennie looked at Mr Peterson, who didn't say anything, and so she pleaded, "Please, Mr Peterson, PLEASE, say you will help me."

Five minutes later Jennie let out a screech as the first lash of Mr Peterson's tawse bit into her bottom. By the sixth lash, Jennie was wriggling and squirming, and tears were already flooding from her eyes and Mr Peterson could see the beginning of a faint red glow through Jennie's leggings. By the time the twelfth lash had scorched Jennie's backside, the glow was much stronger.

On his command, Jennie stood and removed her tights and Mr Peterson's erection was now clear and obvious in his pyjamas.

After Jennie bent back over his desk, Mr Peterson took a little time to admire the beautiful red bottom in the gorgeous thin white panties in front of him. Then, recovering his composure, and determined to make this beautiful bottom so very red and so terribly sore, he lifted his tawse up and whacked it down hard onto the gyrating panty-covered bubble bottom stretched out over his study desk. Crack, whack, thwack, went the strap as it left welt after red welt on her dancing bottom cheeks. He enjoyed seeing tears flooding from Jennie and that she was desperately trying not to stand up or put her hands back to protect her sore bottom as the tawse etched a raw, burning fire across her whole bottom. She succeeded in staying bent over and taking every lash Mr Peterson gave her.

By the time the eighteenth lash had landed, Jennie was howling, bawling her eyes out, desperately dancing, and wriggling all over the desk, but still stayed bent over and submitting to every lash of the tawse.

"Stand up," Mr Peterson commanded, adding tersely, "Take your panties off, girl."

As Jennie did as she was told, she not only felt a fire in her bottom, but also a burning, yearning fire in her pussy and tummy. Now she could understand how being thrashed was exactly what she needed.

Mr Peterson was riveted by Jennie's nakedness but concerned about now leathering her bare bottom, because, much as he wanted to strap her gorgeous bare bottom, he felt her bottom had had enough for the moment. So, making that decision, he ordered, "Come here, lass," as he stretched out his arms. Jennie rushed into them and just hugged him and cried her eyes out on his shoulder.

Mr Peterson soothed the still crying Jennie, saying, "I can't leather your bare bum now, Jennie, as you are welted, scarlet, bruised, and sore enough. As much as I would like to, I need to be sensible, and I need to care for you as well as punish you."

Jennie stood up straight and gave Mr Peterson a big kiss on his cheek, and said a heartfelt, "You are such a good man, Mr Peterson. I know how we can spend some time until later when you can, and I do want you to, leather my bare bum, and, please, I do mean very hard."

With that, Jennie eased her hand inside Mr Peterson's pyjamas, and gripped his throbbing erection and stroked it.

Mr Peterson was breathing deeply as he said, "Careful, Jennie, as it's been thirty years since anyone has done this and I won't last long."

Jennie smiled and replied, "That's OK. Believe me, the second and third times will be better." She then bent back over the desk, spread her legs wide, and, pulling Mr Peterson's pyjamas down, took his throbbing erection and guided it into her sopping wet pussy.

As Mr Peterson thrust deep and slowly inside Jennie, the pressure in his groin grew so much and he could feel he was about to cum, and said urgently, "I can't hold it back, Jennie. Is it safe?

"YES," Jennie replied, knowing she was protected, and Mr Peterson erupted deep inside Jennie's hot sex castle. String after string, rope after rope of cum exploded from him and filled Jennie to overflowing. She felt his seed shooting deep inside her and spilling from inside her and dribbling down her thigh.

They collapsed together and just stayed hugging over the desk. As Mr Peterson recovered and his drowsy, softening cock fell from inside Jennie, she turned to him and, smiling lovingly, said, "You spank really hard, and that strap of yours really leaves your message loud and clear. That was a proper old-fashioned thrashing, Sir, but you must promise that before I leave this afternoon you will strap my bare bottom with those thirty-six hard lashes that I am still due. I deserve it and you must punish me properly. Please."

Mr Peterson just nodded, smiled, and said, "I assure you, Jennie, you won't be sitting comfortably for a long time when you do leave."

Jennie smiled back happily and then asked, still smirking, "You also promised me extras of your choosing too, so what will that be?"

Mr Peterson smiled and replied, "Once I have leathered you again, I am going to take my thick crook-handled cane and give you twelve of the very best strokes with that."

Jennie paled but was up for it and took Mr Peterson by the hand and led him to his bedroom where, as she said, they would make love two more times, and Mr Peterson filled her each time after worshipping her breasts, pussy, and all over with his kisses, tongue, and fingers, and bringing her to several huge orgasms.

Afterwards, as they lay in each other's arms, Jennie was inches from Mr Peterson's face as she said, "I know I need the leathering and the cane as that will help adjust my attitude for the better. Of course, I will be getting at least the same from you every Monday after college when my bottom will already be sore and welted from the thrashing the headmistress will give me, but I want you to know that your thrashing will be even more meaningful for me."

As she saw Mr Peterson smile, she added, meaning every word, "I really do have to thank you for agreeing to thrash me because without reading your stories about me I would never have known just how right it is for me. I know the harder the thrashing the better it will be for me and help me get the exam passes I need at college. Believe me, I will be in your debt forever, and will be so thankful for all the pain every single time you thrash me."

Mr Peterson knew that Jennie meant what she said and felt his erection return. He was already looking forward to thrashing Jennie again with the tawse and then the cane, knowing that he would repeat the punishment time after time, which would benefit them both.