Written by Skylar St. Germaine
"Please, Skylar, punish me."
Her words sent a shiver down my spine, igniting a fire within me that I had never felt before. My hand, poised above her bare bum, clenched into a fist before relaxing again.
Again and again, I spanked her, each smack harder than the last, my hand stinging with the force of the impacts.
With each punishing blow, Eesha's cries morphed into desperate apologies and promises. "I'm sorry," she sobbed, her voice breaking. "I'll do better, I promise. Please, Skylar, I'll be a good girl!"
Her words fueled my fervor, spurring me to spank harder, faster, until her ass was a canvass of crimson and purple.
"I won't disappoint you again," she vowed, her tears flowing freely now. "I'll study harder, I swear!"
When I felt Eesha go limp across my lap, I slowed my assault, my hand gentling to soothing strokes across her bare bum. "Shhh," I whispered. "You've been punished enough for now."
Eesha collapsed against my legs, her body heaving with exhausted sobs. Slowly, she slipped her arms around my waist in a tight embrace. "Thank you for punishing me, Skylar." I ran my fingers through her disheveled hair and told her everything would be okay.
Eesha clung to me for a moment longer, before reluctantly releasing her hold. With a soft sniffle, she rose unsteadily to her feet, wincing as she gingerly rubbed her sore bottom. I watched as she shuffled towards her bed, her steps hindered by the panties still pooled around her ankles. She crawled atop the covers, curling into a small ball around a pillow and quietly sobbed herself to sleep.
For Eesha, this was no game, no sexual fantasy. It was a deep-seated need, a compulsion born of years of strict upbringing and the weight of expectations. And I, her friend and confidante, understood the gravity of my new role.
In the months that followed, an unspoken ritual emerged between us. Every few weeks, I would return to our dorm room to find Eesha standing in the corner, her shoulders shaking with silent sobs, her bottoms and panties pulled down.
Wordlessly, I knew this was my queue to help her with whatever she was struggling with. I would guide her by the bicep to her bed, to my bed, or to a nearby chair, and position her directly over my lap.
As our ritual evolved, so too did my autonomy to punish her more creatively and effectively. On some occasions I would reach for my belt, other times it was Eesha's own hairbrush, the unforgiving wooden surface leaving ashy-white splotches on her bare bum.
I began to incorporate enforced corner time into our sessions, before and after her spankings. I even insisted that she start stripping fully nude for me, before being sent to the corner or going over my knee.
"Socks too, Eesha. I want you fully nude," I would command and she covered her face with her hands and cried into her palms.
These moments of vulnerability, of enforced introspection, seemed to bring Eesha a sense of peace. They allowed her to confront the demons that drove her need for strict punishment, to accept the consequences of her actions.
Years have passed since I last saw Eesha. Our paths diverged after graduation, she pursuing her dreams in medicine, while I took an internship with NASA. But now...now I'm here, at Mistress Andrea's Facility, providing the exact same service to men and women, that Eesha once needed.
I often find myself wondering what Eesha would think if she saw me now. Would she recognize the echoes of our shared past, in the way I wield a paddle now? Or would she see me as some sort of deviant, a perversion of the friend she once knew?
I like to believe that Eesha would approve. After all, it was our time together that first awakened this side of me, that showed me the transformative power of adult spankings and discipline.
I stared at my phone, my thumb hovering over the screen. It had been years since Eesha and I had spoken, yet the memories of her vulnerability lingered within me. I wondered if she still felt the same need for structure, for discipline, that had once landed her over my knee with her bum bare. Or did she still crave the cathartic release that only a thorough spanking could provide?
I was between discipline sessions at the Facility, and before I could second-guess myself, I typed out a simple message to Eesha: a single heart emoji, followed by the words 'miss me?'
And then her reply:
"More than you know."
My heart leapt at the sight of those four words, a surge of warmth flooding through me. Whatever doubts I may have had about reaching out, vanished in an instant. Eesha still needed me, still craved the unique brand of discipline that only I could provide for her.
And I was more than ready to deliver!
