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Chapter Text

Diane Simpson was a forty-year-old sixth grade English teacher at Fillmore School, which ran from grades 6-12.

It was Friday afternoon, and while Diane sat and graded papers, her friend and colleague, the school librarian, thirty-year-old Patricia Oliver, who she affectionately called “Pat,”  sat near her desk and talked with her.

The two were going to be enjoying lunch at Diane’s house the next day. Technically speaking it wasn’t Diane’s house, it belonged to her dear friend, an elderly widow named Mrs. Whitman, but Mrs. Whitman was going to be with her daughter’s family and she was fine with Diane having company over.

In the meantime they were discussing everything; what they should eat, books they were reading, and the week’s events.

“I had to paddle Elizabeth Raymond,” Diane sighed.

“Oh, no, really?” Pat asked, glancing at the birchwood paddle hanging on the nail over in the corner.

“Yes. She’s one of the most well-behaved students, as you know, but she came to class late twice. I gave her a warning the first time - things happen and I didn’t think it would be fair to automatically assume anything then, but I did give her a warning which she acknowledged. And she was nearly ten minutes late the second time,” Diane said.

Pat knew her friend didn’t like paddling the students, but that it was a necessary part of the job.

Anytime Diane mentioned paddling a student - in fact, any time any of the staff mentioned paddling a student, Pat found herself…imagining things.

She didn’t understand why she…liked the idea of getting paddled by her friend, who she’d known for the past eight years - as long as she’d been at Fillmore.

Diane was a decade older, but she had similar tastes in books, movies, and music as Pat. They both loved working in a school. Sometimes, Pat forgot about the age difference.

But Diane still sometimes talked like someone ten years older, and that in and of itself made Pat feel…some kind of way about her friend that she was still trying to figure out.

The romantic feelings were one thing. But why did Pat fantasize about Diane spanking her?

Pat had grown up in a time when children were spanked, sometimes for very small things, and other times for more serious offenses.

Pat had been a relatively mischievous child - she’d grown out of it, but she’d spent plenty of time over Mother and Father’s knees - and she hated it. Even still thinking about it made her uncomfortable,  naturally.

But Mother and Father had not been the only people who’d spanked Pat growing up. Pat had gotten spanked at school a few times, and she could recall being thirteen and having a young pretty history teacher, Miss Walters, who was very kind and passionate about teaching history.

The only time she’d spanked Pat was when the girl had neglected to do her homework. Pat would never forget Miss Walters’ tone of voice when she said, “Patricia Oliver, I’ll be seeing you after class.”

The paddling had hurt, of course - and Pat hated disappointing one of her favorite teachers. But she would never forget after the spanking: Miss Walters using a clean handkerchief to dry Pat’s eyes before giving her a hug and reassuring her she knew she could do better. Or even trying to sit in arithmetic class, backside still sore on the wooden chair, knowing that Miss Walters had been the one to do it.

Then there was Jenny Mathers, the older girl who’d babysat Pat a few times when she was growing up. Jenny had had Mr. and Mrs. Oliver’s permission to spank their daughters (including Pat’s younger sister Rose) as needed. 

Usually she didn’t need to, but Pat, who had been just five years younger than Jenny, could remember dreaming about getting spanked by Jenny after the first time it had happened.

Pat had been seven, Jenny twelve, and Pat had been running around the house while Jenny tried to get a four-year-old Rose down for a nap. She’d finally set the younger Oliver sister in a chair before grabbing Pat by the arm, sitting down on the sofa, pulling Pat over her knee, flipping the girl’s dress up and giving her ten swats over the backside.

Pat had initially been caught off-guard, and she did feel bad - she liked Jenny a lot and didn’t want to make her upset.

But that night she’d dreamed about the spanking.

Jenny had probably spanked Pat a total of three times as her babysitter. Once Pat was old enough to stay at home with Rose by herself, Jenny wasn’t needed, although that was not the end of Pat getting spanked by Jenny.

When Pat started high school, Jenny was still living in the area and after not having seen Pat for a while, the pair ran into each other one day and started talking. Jenny ended up inviting Pat over to her house for lunch and it was there that Pat expressed guilt for something that had happened with her sister recently.

Jenny had, falling back into her role as babysitter, scolded the girl for what she’d done, but had intended for that to be the extent of the chastisement.

But then Pat said she felt like she deserved a spanking for what had happened. Jenny thought maybe she’d misheard. But Pat clarified this and so Jenny gave the girl ten swats with a wooden spoon.

It had made Pat feel a little better…and feel other things, too.

Pat and Jenny continued this dynamic for five years: weekly meetings where Pat revealed things she’d done that she shouldn’t have and that Jenny would spank her for - until Jenny got married and moved with her husband to another town. Pat still sometimes wrote to her old friend, who’d had children since then.

***

Pat wondered if Diane would be interested in such a dynamic.

But she didn’t know how to go about asking. 

If Diane did want such a dynamic, then that would be wonderful. 

But if she didn’t, Pat worried it might ruin their current friendship and make things awkward.

But Pat craved the type of dynamic she’d had with Jenny, and those days were over. Diane was the only person she could ever see herself having something similar.

***

The next day, Pat was sitting at the table across from Diane, absentmindedly staring at a framed painting Mrs. Whitman had hanging in her kitchen.

“Are you okay, dear?” Diane asked, pulling Pat out of her thoughts.

“What? Oh, yes,” Pat said quickly. “But I have something to talk to you about.”

Her heart started beating faster, but she figured she might as well put it out there now.

“What is it?” Diane asked kindly.

“It’s a bit…strange,” Pat said. “But…”

“You can talk to me about anything, you know that,” Diane reassured her.

“Yes,” Pat said. “I just…I want someone to hold me accountable.”

Diane raised a curious brow.

“Hold you accountable? Well, I’ve held you accountable many times,” Diane said.

Pat nodded slowly. This was true - Diane wasn’t afraid to scold her friend as needed, it was one of the reasons Pat knew she’d be the perfect disciplinarian.

“Yes. But I mean, in addition to being scolded I think I need someone to…spank me,” Pat said.

She let out her breath slowly. There it was.

Diane put her glass of water on the table.

“Spank you?” Diane asked.

“Yes. I’d like rules, and then, if the rules were broken, I’d be spanked for it…maybe even paddled or…something.”

Diane seemed to be thinking this over.

“I’ve always wondered what it would be like to…do that to you,” Diane said.

Pat paused.

“You have?”

“Yes,” Diane said. “I thought about asking you about this before, actually. But I didn’t want to make things uncomfortable.”

Pat smiled.

“It wouldn’t have made me uncomfortable, Diane! I’m happy…and surprised that you feel the same way. So you’re interested?”

Diane nodded.

“Why, yes, I am. We could even come up with the rules before you leave today.”

Pat’s smile grew bigger and she glanced over at the counter.

“Do you have a paper and pencil?”

Chapter Text

By the end of Pat’s visit, the two had come up with five rules for her to follow.

-Go to bed at 9:00 pm

-No speaking negatively about yourself

-No excess spending beyond $40 a month

-Chores completed before recreation 

-No television on Sundays

The rules had, for the most part, been Pat’s idea - the only exception being the rule about not speaking negatively about herself, as Diane had noticed her friend tended to use self-deprecation frequently and while plenty of people did, she wanted.

At that suggestion, Pat had initially been a bit reluctant, although given Diane’s tone, could tell it was important to her that Pat start talking more positively about herself.

In addition to getting spanked, Pat and Diane had also come up with a secondary punishment for each broken rule, in addition to having to stand in the corner post “warm up,” as well as a plan for accountability and discipline administration.

-Because Diane and Pat lived within walking distance from each other, Diane was going to stop by Pat’s house at 8:45 to ensure that she was in her nightgown, teeth brushed and face washed, and reading in bed, ready to turn her light off in fifteen minutes. If she was not, or otherwise resisted the bedtime, her bedtime would be pushed back a half hour the next evening.

-If Pat were to speak negatively about herself, she would have to write sentences of Diane’s choosing that spoke positively about Pat.

-Pat was to keep track of her excess spending for the month - excess meaning anything frivolous that wasn’t necessary to live (such as groceries or mortgage). If she exceeded the $40, she would get five swats for every extra dollar spent before she went to bed.

-Pat didn’t have specific chores she needed to do every day, other than dishes, so to simplify things they limited it to: daily dishes done by bedtime (which Diane could confirm at her nightly visit), laundry on Saturdays, and cleaning her bathroom on Fridays. These were also things Diane could easily confirm during her visits. However, if she were to notice anything else needed to be done at Pat’s house, such as windows that needed to be washed or a floor that needed to be swept, Pat was to do it the next day (unless they were spending time together during the day in which she was to complete the chore at that moment). If Pat did not complete chores when she was supposed to, she would have an extra chore to do at Diane’s house.

The paddle was kept at Pat’s house, hanging on a nail in her bedroom. She’d get a warm up over her bare bottom with Diane’s hand, have to stand in the corner for ten minutes, and then bend over the bed to be paddled, bare.

It was a beautiful paddle, handcrafted by a friend of Diane’s, who supplied the local schools (and some family homes) with them.

Diane had told him she needed it as a gift for a teacher friend of hers who was retiring. As a joke, she wanted to have it engraved with said teacher’s name, Patricia Anne.

Amused at this prospect, he’d happily made the paddle for Diane, not knowing it was, in fact, going to be used in the rear end of a Patricia Anne herself, after school hours.

Chapter Text

At 8:00, Pat went to turn off the television to start getting ready for bed, when her favorite episode of the Andy Griffith show started playing.

Pat leaned back, and enjoyed the episode, then, when the next episode started, she completely forgot about how she was supposed to be reading in bed, waiting for Diane to enter through the unlocked back door as planned, to ensure she was doing this.

In fact, she was so engrossed in the episode that she jumped when she saw Diane standing there in the doorway.

“Diane,” Pat said weakly.

Diane walked over to the television and turned it off.

“Patricia,” Diane said.

So rarely did her friend call her that. When they first met, when they were mere coworkers, in order to be polite Diane had, naturally, called her “Patricia.”

But now it was almost always “Pat.”

Unless she was being scolded.

Pat slowly stood.

“Ma’am?”

“Take your skirt off; you’ll be putting your nightgown on soon enough, but you certainly won’t be needing it when I’m punishing you,” Diane said.

“Yes, ma’am,” Pat unbuttoned her skirt and folded it before setting it on the sofa. She followed Diane upstairs.

Diane supervised Pat brushing her teeth and washing her face, although she did give her privacy to use the bathroom.

And soon, Pat was over Diane’s knee, as Diane lowered the woman’s underwear.

She was to get sixty swats with the paddle, and the pair had decided thirty hand swats would suffice as a warm up.

Diane wasted no time, and spared no inch of the pale bottom before her.

Soon the paleness had turned to a blush pink, and was just teetering on the edge of red when Pat was excused to stand in the designated corner, underwear still lowered to reveal Pat’s already sore backside.

Diane sat in Pat’s chair and watched the clock for ten minutes. 

“Bring me the paddle, young lady,” Diane said firmly.

“Yes ma’am,” Pat said sheepishly. She retrieved the paddle from its nail, handed it to Diane, re-lowered her underwear, and bent over the bed.

Diane assumed the position standing behind her and started swatting. Five swats in, Pat was crying.

Diane remained steadfast - this was for Pat’s own good, and it was what they both wanted. 

Soon, the paddle would be hung back up, and Pat would go back over Diane’s lap - her sore bottom would be lotioned, her back would be rubbed, and the pair would hug.

So Diane carried on with the paddling, Pat’s bottom was growing increasingly red, and very, very sore.

But finally, she was done. Pat heard Diane hang up the paddle, and felt her friend rubbed her lower back.

“I’m all done, dear,” Diane said. “Let’s make you feel better.”

“I am sorry,” Pat mumbled, as Diane guided her over her lap.

“I know, dear. And while I’m sure those tears are because your bottom hurts, I’m sure they’re also because you’re tired and ashamed - and that’s why we have the bedtime rule - so you get enough sleep. And as for the shame, now that you’ve been punished, and you understand why you were, I want you to try to forget about it,” Diane said, rubbing the calming lotion into Pat’s rear end, as the latter sighed with relief.

“Yes, ma’am,” Pat said. 

“You can call me Diane again, honey. I’m not spanking you anymore.” 

Pat smiled.

Once the lotion had dried, Diane pulled Pat’s underwear back up, and helped her out of her blouse and bra. She scratched Pat’s back for a few minutes, brushed her hair, and then helped her into a nightgown.

After a few more minutes of backrubs, Diane could hear Pat softly snoring.

She smiled and started to leave, before pausing in the doorway.

Diane turned back around and looked once more at her sleeping friend.

She couldn’t quite explain what she felt at that moment. 

***

The next day, after school, the pair walked home together. 

They talked about Pat going to visit her sister Rose a few towns over that weekend. 

“She just had twins,” Pat said. “A boy and a girl. The boy is Richard Anthony Jr., after my brother-in-law, of course, and the girl is Olivia Rose, after our family name, and Rosie,” Pat was beaming. She was an aunt now, and couldn’t believe it. She couldn’t wait to meet her niece and nephew.

She had often thought about whether or not she wanted children. She was on the fence. As a child she’d dreamed about it - what she would name them, the clothes they would wear, that sort of thing.

Of course, at the time, she’d also imagined herself with a husband, too.

With the family she envisioned now, having children would be a bit…harder. And people would talk.

And children were a lot of work. As much as she loved the children and the school, or from her time babysitting, they’d also taught her how chaotic it could be.

And that, coupled with the stigma of being a…

At this point, just finding someone to spend her life with, as peacefully as they could given the circumstances, would be enough.

Diane was happy for her friend and her family. She’d met both Rose and Richard on a few occasions, and they were lovely.

They talked for a bit longer - about the babies and other things.

As she dropped Pat off at her driveway, she turned more serious.

“And I’ll be seeing you at 8:15 this evening,” Diane said firmly.

Pat looked confused.

“Well, your bedtime this evening will be 8:30, given the events of last night,” Diane clarified.

Pat frowned slightly - that was even less time to watch television and unwind, but it was what they’d agreed on.

“Yes, ma’am,” she said.

Diane offered Pat a hug which she accepted.

“I’ll see you around,” Diane rubbed Pat’s back for a moment.

Pat smiled.

“See you.”

Chapter Text

Diane and Pat were sitting on Mrs. Whitman’s porch. The woman had surprised the pair with cookies she’d baked while they were at the school. They had invited her to join them, but the woman had said she was going to take an afternoon nap.

So, Diane and Pat were alone, and Pat could feel her face flushing. Diane wasn’t scolding her, which was usually when her face flushed.

She was pretty sure she knew why, but she tried to keep those thoughts tamped down. It had been nerve-wracking enough to ask Diane about the spanking. She wasn’t sure how to bring up…this other thing, or if she would ever do it.

She was grateful asking Diane for the discipline hadn’t ruined their friendship. 

But that had already been pushing it.

“How did the church rummage sale go?” Diane asked suddenly, pulling Pat out of her thoughts.

Pat had recently sold some old clothes and books at the local church rummage sale. Diane had also planned on selling some old things but Mrs. Whitman had fallen ill suddenly and needed her help.

“Good. I made a bit of money,” Pat smiled slightly. 

Diane smiled, too.

“Let me guess. You’re going to buy more books?”

Pat laughed.

“Yes. My shelf is looking a little bare now. It’s hard to give up the old ones, and I did keep the ones I’d like to reread one day, but for the ones that I know I won’t reread, I’d like for someone else to enjoy them.”

Diane patted her hand.

“That’s very thoughtful of you.”

Pat’s face flushed again but she smiled.

“I mean, it benefits me as much as them. I made enough money to buy more.”

Diane smiled, too, and sipped her tea. Then she suddenly looked stern, but in a more playful way.

“Rebecca told me you entered the statewide school librarian contest. Why didn’t you tell me?” Diane asked.

Pat flushed again. Sometimes, Diane would teasingly threaten a spanking in a situation like this - recently they’d baked a cake for Rebecca, the aforementioned coworker. They’d had to start over, as Pat had forgotten to add the flour.

That had earned her a playful but exasperated swat over her dress from Diane - and she’d had to write twenty sentences “I will remember the flour” twenty times.

“Well, I…I wasn’t sure I’d even do it and then I get busy with work and the rummage sale, and seeing Rosie,” Pat shrugged sheepishly.

Diane smiled.

“Well, I’m excited for you, Pat!”

Pat forced a smile.

“Thanks, but now I’m not even sure why I entered. I’m not even qualified.”

Diane frowned.

“Patricia, we’ve talked about this,” Diane put her teacup on the table.

Pat just looked down.

“What’s the second rule on our list?” Diane asked. “Look at me, Patricia.”

Pat slowly looked up.

“No speaking negatively about myself. But…”

“No, no buts, except the one that I’m going to be spanking,” Diane sighed. She tended to prefer the term “backside,” but this did give her an easy transition into the scolding.

“Diane -“ Pat started to protest.

“Come inside with me,” Diane said.

“We’ll wake Mrs. Whitman,” Pat said.

Diane sighed again.

“She’s a heavy sleeper, Patricia,” Diane said. “And we’re going to the basement.”

Diane had gotten a second paddle, to keep hidden away in her closet, although Mrs. Whitman never really went downstairs - she certainly wouldn’t go into Diane’s bedroom without permission.

Still she wanted to be safe, although given her profession, and Mrs. Whitman’s old age, she might not have thought twice about the woman possessing a paddle.

A small high school in a nearby town was closing down, the students going off in a variety of directions - some to another, larger public high school, others to a private school.

Among the things being sold at very low prices was the paddle that the principal had kept in his office.

Diane figured she might as well have one at her house, too.

***

The pair had decided that at Diane’s house, the discipline would take place in her office, which had once belonged to Mr. Whitman.

Pat liked it because it brought her back to her schoolgirl days, the days when the fantasies had truly begun.

But she didn’t like the idea of writing nice things about herself - or the fact that by breaking this rule, she’d disappointed Diane. Breaking any rule was, to a certain extent, disappointing Diane.

But this was different. This was the one rule Diane had come up with.

Diane’s office didn’t have an armless chair, which, besides sofas, were the best for over-the-knee spankings.

For the warm up hand spankings Pat would receive, Diane would take her in the crook of her arm.

And Diane didn’t waste any time before doing that. She took Pat in the crook of her arm, lifted her dress, lowered her underwear, and gave her the thirty swats.

Pat stared defeatedly at the floor. Diane certainly had a hard hand. As a teacher, she used a paddle, but she’d had prior experience with giving hand spankings, too.

Like Pat, Diane didn’t have children, but she had worked as a nanny for many years, for a family whose parents had given her permission to spank their three children. When they were young, her hand was enough, but as they got older, Diane was to use the wooden spoon the parents did.

When it came to the spankings she’d given as a nanny, teacher, or an aunt (her niece and nephew were too big for spankings now, but they’d gotten their fair share from Aunt Diane back in the day), they had been truly difficult. She always was able to discuss with the child what had happened later, and give a hug (an offer which even her students took her up on), but it was hard.

With Pat, the spankings were definitely…different. Pat was a grown woman. Like Diane, and anybody else who’d grown up in their generation, she’d been spanked as a child, and disliked it.

But Pat had asked Diane to spank her. 

And Diane, who generally disliked giving spankings in the usual contexts.

Had agreed. Had been wanting to ask Pat the same thing.

Diane knew Pat hated disappointing her, and some of the spankings had ended in Pat’s tears. Diane and Pat had decided if the spanking was too much, for either of them, but especially Pat, they were to say “recess”. The spanking would stop, and they’d touch base, and either proceed after making adjustments, or the punishment would be over and they’d move into Pat getting lotion and a hug.

***

After Pat’s backside had been warmed up, Diane sent her to stand in the corner.

Diane sat at her desk and watched the clock. Fifteen minutes, and then she would paddle Pat.

Diane tried to focus on the desk, but she couldn’t help but look up occasionally at her friend.

More specifically at her backside, covered with a floral dress.

“Patricia, hold up your dress and lower your underwear,” Diane said firmly.

She knew Pat could benefit from (and appreciated) a little humiliation in these situations.

Having her expose her backside while standing in the corner was a common way Diane did this.

It was humiliating for Pat, sure.

But ultimately neither of them minded.

Pat did as she was told, blushing as she faced the wall and Diane stared at her rear end. It had pinkened when Diane spanked it with her hand, but was starting to return to its pale color.

That would soon change.

“Now you may bend over my desk,” Diane said. She’d already retrieved the paddle, and Pat assumed the position.

Diane started paddling.

Pat fought the urge to squirm - she’d only be scolded more. But she did moan, as Diane was very thorough with the paddle, and Pat knew she still had to write those positive sentences about herself.

How embarrassing.

“Let’s get you out of your dress, it’ll be easier for later,” Diane said, helping a sheepish Pat out of the dress.

The younger woman stood in front of Diane’s wall chalkboard in her underwear and bra, chalk in hand.

“You will write, ‘I am a skilled and qualified librarian. Fill up the board, like usual,” Diane said.

Pat swallowed and started writing. 

She suddenly felt a swat to her backside.

“In cursive, young lady,” Diane said.

Pat wiped the board and started over, writing in cursive.

Diane surveyed her work, and soon Pat was sprawled over her lap as the lotion was applied.

“I don’t want to hear you talking like that about yourself, Patricia,” Diane said. She’d finished with the lotion on Pat’s rear, and moved on to scratching and massaging the woman’s back.

“Yes, ma’am,” Pat said weakly, having already cried into Diane’s chest moments earlier.

“I’m serious, Patricia Anne Oliver,” Diane continued. “You were hired for a reason, your application to enter the contest was accepted for a reason, the students and faculty speak highly of your work for a reason, and if I have to spank you every day to get you to recognize that, I will.”

Diane moved her hand back to Pat’s bottom and patted it firmly.

“Yes, ma’am,” Pat said. She was still uncomfortable, but she appreciated her friend’s words.

Maybe one day she would truly believe them.

In the meantime, though, she was just happy to be safe over Diane’s lap. Her care was as thorough as her punishing.

Chapter Text

Pat sat at her kitchen table, across from Diane. Diane was going through the notepad in which Pat kept track of excess spending for the month. She’d gotten ice cream with Diane, another day she went out to eat with another one of her teacher friends. Then there were the books she’d bought, a new hat that had caught her attention.

She’d bought a few other things too. 

To be honest, she wasn’t sure how much it had amounted to. It was very possible it was over forty dollars - some of the purchases, such as the books or the decor for her house, where she had possibly gotten a little carried away.

Even an amount of $40.01 would get her a paddling. And that was what she wanted. She knew she could go overboard with buying things she didn’t actually need.

A thorough spanking from Diane, paired with her desire to do better and make her friend proud, should help get her back on track.

Diane announced she’d calculated it once, and was going to calculate it again, to check her work. This had been part of the plan, at Diane’s insistence, because she felt it was only fair.

Diane had stood behind Pat, resting her hands on her friend’s shoulders.

“You know I’m not opposed to giving you a good spanking when you need it, but I don’t think it would be very fair to spank you because of my faulty arithmetic,” Diane teased, giving Pat’s shoulders a squeeze.

Pat smiled (and blushed). That worked for her.

***

“$45.00,” Diane said definitively.

Pat said nothing.

“This is disappointing, Patricia Anne,” Diane said. “What is your monthly spending limit?”

“$40, ma’am,” Pat said.

“So in addition to the paddling you’ll be getting this afternoon, I’ll be giving you twenty-five swats with my hand tonight before you go to bed,” Diane said.

“Yes, ma’am,” Pat said. She did some calculations of her own. Thirty warm up spankings, sixty paddlings, and twenty-five bedtime spankings.

By the time Pat went to bed, she would have received 115 spankings - not all consecutively, granted, but it was a lot.

And there was nobody she wanted to give them to her but Diane.

Upstairs in her bedroom, Pat dropped her skirt, and went over Diane’s lap. Diane lowered her underwear per usual and gave her the thirty bare bottom swats with her hand.

Pat stared at the floor. She didn’t feel quite so guilty as she had with some previous spankings, but she did vow to do better the next month with her excess spending.

When Diane wasn’t spanking her, when Pat succeeded in following the rules - was in bed on time, acknowledged her accomplishments, spent no more than $40, etc., Diane would praise her: the kindest, warmest words, backrubs, pats on the backside.

The spankings and other punishments were satisfying, but so was the praise.

Pat soon stood and went to stand in the corner, while Diane watched the clock.

Without being asked, Pat decided to lower her underwear.

Diane took note of this, and although Pat couldn’t see, she smiled slightly.

“Alright, it’s been fifteen minutes, bend over the bed,” Diane said firmly.

“Yes, ma’am,” Pat said, taking the position that had become so familiar.

Diane started the paddling, and Pat gritted her teeth as she received each swat, her backside quickly heating up.

Diane focused solely on administering the punishment and counting the sixty swats in her head.

But she also couldn’t help but notice as Pat’s bottom got redder and redder.

It wasn’t just the satisfying redness that caught her attention. Lately, she’d been simply appreciating Pat’s rear end - the shape, the softness of her skin, and how it felt to soothe it with lotion after a spanking.

There was something about herself that she’d been in denial of for a while. She had no intention of ending this dynamic with Pat, but it was bringing certain feelings up to the surface again.

They were going to have to have a conversation eventually. 

But for now, the paddling was over, and Diane and Pat went through the conversational part of Pat’s aftercare, before Pat accepted a hug, and then went over Diane’s lap.

Pat sighed contentedly as Diane rubbed the lotion into her bottom, and then scratched her back, even reaching up under her blouse.

“I have some errands to run,” Diane said, once Pat confirmed she was alright. “But I’ll be back tonight to give you your bedtime spankings, young lady. Behave while I’m gone.”

Pat smiled.

“Yes, ma’am.”

Diane gave her a playful swat over her skirt, which she’d helped her put back on before heading out to pick up the groceries for Mrs. Whitman.

Pat’s rear end was still sore after Diane left. She wanted to sit in her reading chair - the same one where Pat gave her over-the-knee spankings, but she just couldn’t.

She smirked.

***

Pat was getting ready for bed when Diane returned to administer the bedtime spankings. Bedtime spankings were given over Pat’s underwear.

Pat was already drowsy, and she knew from past experiences that Diane’s bedtime spankings made her even more tired.

Which was good, as she sometimes struggled with insomnia, which didn't help when she had a full day of work ahead of her the next day.

So Pat went over Diane’s lap, and Diane began by patting her bottom over her silk nightgown.

“Twenty-five,” she reiterated, before lifting the nightgown.

This time, the emotions surrounding the spanking were less intense, but Diane still was thorough. Pat fought the urge to squirm off her friend’s lap as Diane’s hand came down again and again over her cotton underwear,  which offered very little protection.

But finally, she was done, and allowed the nightgown to fall again.

Diane rubbed Pat’s backside over her nightgown.

“How are you, dear?” Diane asked.

Pat yawned.

“I’m tired. Thank you for disciplining me, Diane.”

Diane smiled.

“Of course. Let’s get you into bed - and then I’m going home to turn in myself.”

Reluctantly, Pat stood, and waited as Diane lifted up her quilt.

She climbed into bed, and Diane tucked her in.

“Goodnight, Patricia Anne,” Diane said.

“Goodnight, Diane,” Pat yawned again.

And then…it happened.

Diane leaned forward, and Pat did too. It felt so natural, and even more natural when their lips met.

When the two finally pulled away, neither felt ashamed or insecure or embarrassed.

They both just smiled.

Diane was still smiling when she managed to pull away to head for her own home.

And Pat fell asleep with a smile on her face.

Chapter Text

Pat was seated at her kitchen table, doing crossword puzzles and listening to a jazz record on her record player.

She’d baked some chocolate chip cookies earlier that day and was enjoying them with a glass of milk.

Pat finished her cookies and turned to a new page in the crossword puzzle book when she heard a knock at the door.

Pat got up and answered it.

It was Diane.

“Hello, Diane,” Pat said, giving her friend a hug. They still referred to each other as “friends” even though they’d shared a few more kisses since the first one and it was clear the relationship had changed.

They would need to have a conversation - probably several, about next steps.

But in the meantime, regardless of labels, they still kissed. They gave each other massages, and snuggled up on the sofa to watch a movie.

And Diane still disciplined Pat with spankings, but that wasn’t the only reason she spanked her now.

The first…different kind of spanking had happened a week earlier, for Pat’s thirty-first birthday.

Pat had gotten birthday spankings before in her life: growing up, she and Rosie would get them from both Mother and Father. That was purely playful, affectionate.

Back when Pat had her arrangement with Jenny, she’d also gotten birthday spankings from her friend. Those were also playful, but this was the moment Pat could remember feeling… that way about getting spanked.

Or, starting too. She’d been pretty young, but it was clear she’d had a bit of a crush on Jenny, but still…the feelings had been confusing.

As an adult, these feelings were not confusing. She did love Diane Simpson: as a colleague, as a friend, and as…something else.

A wife. She wanted Diane to be her wife, and maybe someday they could be - marriage certificate or not.

***

Naturally, when Diane and Pat were walking home from school on the day of Pat’s birthday, and Diane brought up the topic of birthday spankings, she had a look in her eyes.

“I believe, Patricia Anne, I owe you some birthday spankings,” Diane said.

Pat smirked.

“Yes ma’am, I think you do.”

Pat invited Diane over, and didn’t hesitate to take off her skirt. Diane had taken her in the crook of her arm and gave her all thirty-one spankings - thirty-two given the one to grow on.

The strawberry shortcake they’d shared afterwards had tasted especially sweet.

***

Back to the present day, Pat opened the door and welcomed her friend in, after they’d kissed, and Diane had cheekily pinched her backside.

As Pat walked into the kitchen to get Diane some cookies, she noticed the dishes and baking tools piled up in the sink.

Diane noticed them, too.

“Patricia Anne,” Diane said firmly.

“Yes…yes ma’am?” Pat asked.

Diane glanced over at the crossword puzzle book on the table. 

She went over and turned the record player off.

“It looks like you’ve been having fun,” Diane said.

“Yes, ma’am, I have,” Pat sighed quietly.

“And there’s a lot of dishes in the sink,” Diane said.

“Yes, ma’am, there are,” Pat said.

“My cookies can wait. I see that I need to give you a spanking,” Diane said. “I need to paddle that bottom.”

Pat blushed at that. Generally, Diane simply said something to the effect of “you need a spanking” or “I need to give you a good paddling.” But she knew Pat squirmed when she talked about what part of her was going to get spanked, or paddled, or turned red, etc.

After getting her hand spanking and standing in the corner, Pat bent over the bed, her skirt tossed on the floor.

Pat felt Diane tug her underwear down, and groaned upon feeling the first swat.

Diane, meanwhile, spanked and spanked, and watched as the younger woman’s backside turned scarlet.

Pat squirmed a little.

“Hold still, Patricia,” Diane said firmly. “I can paddle you longer - or harder.”

Pat clenched her quilt in her hands as she fought to stay still. She’d been counting in her head, and they were somewhere in the thirties now. Over halfway there.

After the sixtieth swat, Pat let out a relieved breath.

Diane rubbed her lower back.

“Why don’t you bend over the bed, honey,” Diane said. “And I’ll give you the lotion.”

“When we’re done I’ll do the dishes, Diane,” Pat said.

Diane gently patted her backside.

“Good girl. I know you will.”

Pat stayed true to her word. While the lotion dried, she snuggled up with Diane on the bed, but once it had, she set to work doing the dishes, still without a skirt, as Diane supervised, of course.

After the dishes were done, Pat and Diane watched some television, and then Pat made some BLT sandwiches for dinner. 

When the evening ended, Pat sent Diane home with some cookies. 

After Diane left, Pat closed the door behind her.

Her backside was still a little sore, and she deliberately sat in a chair so she’d feel it.

She imagined Diane standing nearby, scolding her and telling her she deserved the sore bottom for being naughty.

She missed Diane already, even though she lived just down the street and the pair saw each other every day.

What a wonderful life the two shared. 

Chapter Text

Following Mrs. Whitman’s death early the next year, Diane spoke with Olive, Mrs. Whitman’s niece and only living relative.

Olive lived with her husband and son, and didn’t need the house, but since it wasn’t Diane’s, she wanted to make sure everything was handled the way Olive wanted.

“She didn’t tell you?” Olive asked, as the two women dipped tea on her front porch.

“Tell me what?” Diane asked.

“She left you the house, Diane,” Olive said. “I don’t know why she didn’t tell you - maybe she forgot, I know she was getting more forgetful. Or maybe she knew I would tell you. But yes, it’s in the will.”

Diane didn’t know what to say. Mr. and Mrs. Whitman had definitely felt like second parents to her - had given her baked goods, bought her books and clothes, but she hadn’t expected getting a house one day.

Olive showed Diane the will, and helped her with the legal end of things.

***

A few months later, Pat had moved in with her, after selling her house to a young family - husband, wife, and infant daughter.

Neighbors, friends, and family simply knew them as roommates and friends. They knew how hard the loss of Mrs. Whitman had been on Diane, and knew she didn’t want to live in the house alone.

If they suspected anything, Diane and Pat weren’t aware of the gossip at least.

But those hypothetical gossipers would’ve been right.

At home, Pat and Diane referred to each other as wives - and they’d gone to a local jewelry store and picked out rings and everything, which they only wore at home, knowing if they wore the rings in person, they knew people would ask about their fiancés or husbands, and the women didn’t want to have to make anything up.

And Diane still spanked Pat.

***

One Sunday, Diane and Pat got home from church. Diane wanted to go for a walk, but Pat was tired and wanted to take a nap.

So, Diane kissed her, swatted her on the backside, and told her to behave herself.

Pat fell asleep on the sofa, and woke up about a half hour later.

What she really wanted to do was watch some television. It was Sunday and she wasn’t supposed to do that, but if she watched one episode, Diane would likely still be gone.

So Pat sat down on the couch, turned on the television and soon she was lost in the world of Andy Griffith.

So lost that one episode turned to two then three and four.

And that’s when Diane walked in.

“It’s beautiful out today!” Diane said, entering the room. “I ran into Carol -“

Pat hadn’t had time to get up and turn off the television set.

“Patricia Anne,” Diane said.

“Ma’am?” Pat asked with a sigh.

She dropped her skirt without being told. 

“It’s Sunday, Patricia,” Diane said.

“Yes, ma’am, it is,” Pat replied. 

Mrs. Whitman’s old bedroom had been turned into a library, and Diane and Pat now slept in the spare upstairs bedroom, with Diane’s old basement bedroom being converted into Pat’s office, and Diane keeping her old office.

Spankings now happened in the couple’s shared bedroom, with the Patricia Anne paddle, Diane’s paddle hung from a nail in her office downstairs.

***

The women made their way up to the bedroom. Diane made Pat walk in front of her, and while Pat knew her wife wouldn’t swat her on the stairs, but she still felt exposed.

Diane took Pat over her knee, lowered her bloomers and spanked her with her hand.

Tomorrow, while Diane enjoyed some evening television, Pat would have to write an essay about following the rules. She’d also get fifteen swats over her nightgown before bed that night.

They proceeded to Pat’s time in the corner, and soon she was bent over the bed, as Diane paddled her backside.

Pat counted mentally, trying to fight the urge to squirm or outright yell out.

Diane had had plenty of practice at this point in disciplining Pat, and while Pat was used to the paddlings, they always hurt, and always turned her backside a bright crimson color, and made it hard for her to sit for a while.

“I’m done, darling,” Diane said finally, rubbing her back after setting the paddle aside.

Pat let out a breath, and collapsed further onto the bed.

“I’m sorry, Diane,” she murmured into the quilt.

Diane patted her bottom gently.

“I know, and you know this means I’m spanking you again tonight - but no paddle, and you’ll have to write me an essay tomorrow, but it’s all over now, my love.”

Pat sighed with relief - and even more so when Diane gave her the lotion.

That night, after Pat had put on her pink nightgown - and Diane put on her matching blue one, and the two had brushed their teeth, washed their faces, and brushed each other’s hair, Pat went back over Diane’s lap for her bedtime spankings.

Once that was over, Diane rubbed her bottom.

“Are you alright, darling?” Diane asked, as Pat climbed into Diane’s lap, and wrapped her arms around her neck.

Pat rested her head on Diane’s chest.

“I’ve never been better, honey.”