Short Shorts, Lesbian Spanking Stories

Short Shorts Dusty Warner was wearing white short shorts and a fine pair of well-worn, red high heels when Madeline first saw her. The shorts were the kind that barely covered her delicious rear cheeks – frayed at the edges, raveling a little more each time they were washed. Dusty was inquiring about the “help wanted” sign in the window of the Black and White Diner. It seemed as good a place as any to earn a few bucks. At twenty-one, she was foot­loose and fancy free, but at the moment, flat broke. “You want a job in this diner, honey, you’re gonna hafta forget those nasty britches and those high heels. I got decent skirts and blouses for my waitresses.” “Sure,” Dusty shrugged. “I’d have half the men in this town in here just to gawk at those legs of yours,” Madeline added. “It’s okay with me, I mean about your skirt and blouse. I don’t like men much anyway, ma’am.” Dusty was doing her best to be agreeable; she needed the job. “Well, if you’re not out to impress men, why do you wear those slutty clothes?” Madeline inquired. The girl shrugged again. “Why not?” “Humph!” Madeline tapped the toe of her white oxford against the tile floor; with a hand on her hip, she was a formi­dable sight. “You got an attitude, Dusty Warner, but you got the job. I need someone now. But hear me, you watch your step, ‘cause I’ll tan that sassy butt of yours if you get out of line.” “What’s that suppose to mean?” the girl asked. “It means I run this place, and I don’t particularly like my girls acting like sluts, inside or outside the diner.” Dusty shrugged. “Just want the job, that’s all,” she replied. Her noncommittal response was the best she could muster. She wished she didn’t have to be bothered with an old lady like Madeline, but she didn’t have much choice. Madeline ran the place; she had for ten years. She was not so old at thirty-five, as she was wise. She’d been around the block a time or two, and pretty much had her way with things. There was no getting around that, and Dusty was smart enough to figure that out. “Can you start this afternoon?” Madeline asked. “Yeah,” Dusty answered. “That’s Ma’am to you, Miss Short Shorts, you can find a skirt and blouse in the back room.” Madeline watched the girl wiggle her ass right past her, her butt cheeks jiggling nicely in the skin-tight shorts. She’d seen Dusty’s type before—could be hell on wheels, though she hoped not. Beneath all that devil-may-care attitude, she suspected there was a sweet girl, one she’d like to get to know in more than just a casual way. Dusty Warner turned out to be a decent waitress; she almost looked respectable in her diner uniform, except for the bright red lipstick that she refused to give up. Madeline didn’t hassle her too much about that; looking at those luscious red lips all day wasn’t half-bad. Unfortunately, Madeline’s influence on Dusty’s behavior ended in the diner. As soon as her shift was over, the girl was in the back room, pulling her short shorts over her hips and slipping her feet into the red heels. They enhanced the pro­vocative sway of her sassy hips. Initially, she was well behaved at work, but it occurred to Madeline that the girl’s good be­havior would be only temporary. When she did mess up, Madeline would be ready for her. Just as Madeline expected, it didn’t take long for Dusty’s wilder side to appear. One evening, as the girl walked out of the back room in her shorts and high heels, she bumped into her boss with an unexpected jolt. The unfortunate crash jostled her purse, dumping its content across the diner floor. Most noticeable was a bottle of vodka that broke on impact. The strong smell of alcohol rose from the floor, as if it had just been mopped with disinfectant. That was not all that met Madeline’s eye as she gazed at the mess. “What’s this?” she asked, picking up a bag containing some white powdery substance. “You using drugs?” Dusty tried to grab it back, but Madeline was too quick. The older women knew what she was looking for and with a quick examination discovered the truth. “I told you, young lady, you’d better behave yourself,” Madeline admonished her, staring her down with impenetra­ble eyes. “That’s none of your business,” Dusty retorted. “Sorry, Miss Short Shorts, I’ve made it my business,” Madeline seethed. She had her by the wrist. “Clean up this mess, will you?” she called to Cassie, her other waitress. As she led Dusty into the back room. The girl struggled, but Madeline was far more powerful than Dusty and more determined. Though Dusty was not yet sure what her employer had in mind, when she spied the omi­nous wooden spoon in Madeline’s hand, it became obvious. “You b***h!” the girl yelled. Madeline slapped the girl across the face. “You hush your mouth if you know what’s good for you.” Shocked into yielding. Dusty watched in horror as Madeline made a place for her to sit. “My god, not here?” the girl protested. “There are cus­tomer’s out there.” “‘Fraid they’ll hear you?” Madeline taunted—pulling the girl over her lap. She could sense Dusty’s mounting di­lemma—the humiliation, the customers within earshot, her own tempestuous anger. But Dusty being Dusty opted to pro­test, forgetting what the outside world would hear or think. She wasn’t about to let the old lady punish her without a fight. “Don’t you dare!” she screamed. Her arms and legs kicked furiously as she tried to struggle from Madeline’s lap. But the woman had been through these things many times be­fore, and she knew she had the advantage, and of course the wooden spoon, turned paddle, in her hand. Whack! “Stop it!” Dusty howled, still trying to wriggle away. Again, she wiggled her fanny in Madeline’s face, “Ouch! Goddammit! “They’re going to hear you, is that what you want?” Madeline said. Dusty didn’t know what she wanted. The slaps of the wooden spoon stung through her white short shorts. It was humiliating, but not the worst thing she’d ever felt. If this was as bad as it was going to be, maybe Madeline was right, she should shut up and take it. Unfortunately, a simple spanking was not all that Madeline had in mind. Once she’d warmed the girl’s ass, Madeline paused to pull the shorts from Dusty’s hips. “What the hell are you doing?” “You didn’t expect me to let these protect your fanny, did you?” “How dare you!” Dusty tried another protest. But Madeline was still stronger, and in just seconds, Dusty’s bottom was naked and bobbing lusciously in front of Madeline’s eyes. For the older woman it was a damned pretty sight: two beautiful pink round buns, the delicious crack, the soft fleshy place at the base, and the firm below. She watched as Dusty clenched and let go, then clenched again. There was something very arousing about her movements. She certainly wouldn’t let these fair cheeks go to waste, though first she had some work to do, a lesson to teach, and a feisty young brat to tame. “You’ll be surprised, Miss Short Shorts, how your view of things will change after I’ve reddened your fanny. “Ouch!” the girl cried loudly. The wooden spoon came down again and again with vi­cious whacks to poor Dusty’s rear, which was quickly turning from pale pink to a passionate red. Madeline made every effort to cover all of Dusty’s delicate rear. The more glowing red the better, Madeline always thought. As the paddle finished its first journey across her fanny, it began a second, retracing the steps with a thoroughness of someone obviously skilled in good hearty paddlings. “Oh, my god, please stop!” Dusty pleaded. There were tears in her eyes, but not ones Madeline trusted; she’d seen too many young things like Miss Short Shorts who turned quickly into actresses once the paddle was landing on their bottoms. They could muster most any emotion to get away from the sting. “Please, please, Madeline,” she tried again. The tears were turning to sobs. “I run this place, and you’ll do as I say,” Madeline lectured. “Yes, ma’am.” “No booze, no drugs, ever!” “Yes, ma’am.” “No back talk, no sassing, no tardiness,” she continued. She punctuated her harangue with several powerful whacks from the paddle. “Yes, ma’am.” “And you’ll leave your short shorts and these heels at home,” Madeline added for good measure. “Yes, ma’am.” Madeline had slowed the fury of the moment beginning to pass. As she finished her lecture, she listened carefully for a sincere response from Dusty; yet even as she did, Madeline noted a distinct change in the girl’s demeanor. She was moaning softly, as if she were aroused. The nasty edge was gone, and she looked as if she welcomed the next whack. For Madeline it was a most pleasing finish. She ended with three very sound strikes “There! You’re done!” she declared. She dropped the wooden spoon and began to caress the girl’s flaming mounds, having little doubt that Dusty would welcome the tenderness. “Oh, ma’am,” she moaned softly. Madeline looked down, appreciating the lovely glow, the warmth, and the seductive appeal of the punished flesh. Dusty groaned even more, as Madeline’s hands covered the sore places with gentle caresses. “You have such a lovely bottom, my dear, such a lovely blush.” The girl’s quivering ass gyrated with a sensuous rhythm. “And, you seem to like this treatment.” “Oh, yes.” Madeline slipped her hand between Dusty’s legs, feeling the dampness she expected there. She insisted that the girl part her thighs so she could run her fingers deeper. With every gesture, Dusty responded lustily, her soft murmuring sounds indicating that the terrible woe of her punishment had suddenly changed to clamoring desire. “Perhaps we should wait,” Madeline said, thinking better of beginning something so quickly with her young subject. “Oh, no, ma’am, please more, please.” “You’re sure?” “Absolutely,” she affirmed. “Then we’ll have to go upstairs to my apartment; this is one thing I’d rather not broadcast to my customers.” Dusty didn’t hesitate. Moving quickly from Madeline’s lap, she drew her shorts back up and briskly followed her employer to the second floor flat, where they resumed their spirited s*x play. On Madeline’s couch, the two were arm in arm, their mouths meeting for the first time in an affectionate kiss. “It seems my Miss Short Shorts has a real reason for these slutty clothes,” Madeline murmured, as she once again pushed the infamous garment down Dusty’s lovely legs. The woman ran her hands along the lustrous thighs, and back to the fragrant moist place. Dusty chuckled softly, before she was soon too absorbed in the rising sensations to think of anything but her raging need. Madeline knew just where to play, her fingers finding the lush center of Dusty’s loins. The girl soared; the sweet sounds of her orgasm delightfully filled the darkened room. After the wild rush had died away, Dusty promptly dropped down between her new lover’s legs, lapping at the door of Madeline’s p***y with an attentive tongue. It had been some time since she’d had the pleasure of enjoying the sweet perfumed musk of a woman’s nectar, and she dove in relishing each drop. When Madeline peaked, her head thrust back with her body shivering vigorously; she raised her own orgasmic music into the air before shuddering softly as she relaxed. “So, are you going to behave yourself?” Madeline asked when they had both recuperated. They were still lying together on Madeline’s couch. “Oooo, I don’t know,” Dusty replied. There was a devious, but delightful twinkle in her eye. “Don’t be fooled, my love, by my tenderness,” Madeline warned lightly. “I won’t hesitate to use the spoon on you again; and I won’t be as easy next time.” “Easy?” Dusty shot up, a little edge returning to her voice. “Settle down,” Madeline suggested. “You know you needed a paddling, or you wouldn’t have acted like such a b***h. I’m just what you need in lots of ways, and don’t you forget that.” There wasn’t much likelihood that she would. As much as the evening had surprised them, it seemed just the right tonic for them both. After that first night, the two began a peculiar relationship. Madeline was the boss. Dusty was her headstrong brat. And “Miss Short Shorts” was what Madeline called Dusty when she misbehaved, which was often enough to give the girl a go round across her lap nearly every week. Even though she screamed and shouted, protested to the hilt, she always yielded in the end; Madeline’s thorough punishments fired her s*x like nothing ever had, and Madeline’s passionate lovemaking was like sweet chocolate candy. For the young woman, the arrangement was a fascinating adventure, one that served her well, at least for the moment. In her own way, she held on to her wild side, showing Madeline only what she carefully intended her to see. The spankings were a hoot! She made certain that “she” was the one really orchestrating the whole thing. Let Madeline think she was in charge, Dusty knew better!