Practice Makes Perfect

For those of you who don't remember the series and/or want a direct link to the other stories... Here ya go :)

Practice Makes Perfect
Practice Still Makes Perfect
Practice Will Always Make Perfect
A Friend In Need Is a Friend Indeed
Practice Makes Perfect... Years Later

Story: Practice Makes Perfect... Years Later

Continuation to Practice Makes Perfect.  Random addition to an old mini series.  Dunno where it came from, and I apologize for all the weed references I always make.  I can't really stop doing it lol.  I'd like to dedicate this to Mackenzie for her birthday!!!  I'm also going to dedicate to her a Back on Track 3 story hehehe hopefully soon.  Anyway, hope you enjoy.

Practice Makes Perfect... Years Later

by Breanna Carter

A lot happened during college.  I ended up going to Centenary with Jeremy, where he was busy getting all A's in Philosophy and I was getting all A's in partying hardcore.  Not so many A's in the subjects that counted though.  He was my spanker my first two years, trying to keep me focused, using his philosophy skills on me to break me down into feeling bad for what I'd done.  He felt it was his duty to make sure I behaved in a moral manner.  Whatever that meant.

We were sort of an item during those two years, but when he got accepted to grad school at Columbia, we knew that a long distance thing was just not going to happen.  We faded away for a little while, but then grew stronger, texting each other randomly throughout the day, hour-long phone conversations, and promises to meet up on the holidays.  I even visited him in New York once (got spanked lots) and had an amazing time.  

When I finished college, I decided to work close to home for a bit.  I don't really know what I was thinking… within a couple of months I was already searching for out of state grad school programs for me.  Jeremy suggested one in his area.  I found this amazing social work program at NYU.  Then I got accepted!  

We decided to be roommates… and see if it led to anything more.  It didn't take long before it was leading to more…

"Amy," he said one evening when he walked into the apartment, staring down at me, hands on his hips.  "I was at your practice today… something's up.  Have you not been practicing like you're supposed to?"

He was talking about the fact that I was playing with NYU's orchestra.  It was a scholarship thing and I was a little tired of playing, but Jeremy insisted I continue and even gave me money for private lessons.  I'd forgotten to tell him that instead of spending Tuesday evenings practicing viola, I hung out in my best friend's studio, sprawled out on bean bag chairs, smoking weed and contemplating the meaning of life.  This was more therapy than playing a musical instrument.  But Jeremy wouldn't be too thrilled to find out how I'd been spending his money.

"I've been practicing a lot," I told him, focusing on playing Angry Birds on my computer.  I was a little stoned at the moment, truth be told, and too stressed out to really think about more than destroying little green aliens.

Jeremy snatched my computer away.  

"Heyyy I was playing that!"

"I'm trying to have a conversation with you," he said, glaring at me and then stooping down to my level.  "What's going on with these practices.  Tell me the truth."

I sighed, looking away from him.

"Amy, don't be a brat."

"I'm not being a brat.  You took away my Angry Birds and I don't feel like talking right now."

"Because you know you're in trouble," he said, causing a shiver down my spine.  "You've been smoking a lot lately, haven't you?" he asked.  When I didn't answer, he continued:  "You've not been keeping up with your practicing or studying because you've been smoking.  I'm right, aren't I, Amy?"

I still didn't answer, just began chewing on my fingernail, feeling super uncomfortable.

"I asked you a question, Young Lady," he said firmly.

"Jeremy, I was playing Angry Birds.  Can I have my computer back please?"

He stood up now, towering over me.  I caught a glimpse of his unimpressed expression and it sent a pang through my stomach.  My heart began to beat quickly, my palms sweaty, ugh I was so guilty.

"Get out your viola," he told me.  "And all of your music."

"W- what?"

"You heard me," he said.  "You know how I take care of little girls who don't practice."  

I chewed harder on my fingernail, remembering the very first spanking I'd gotten from him.  How he'd given me swats based on how badly I messed up in the song I hadn't practiced.  If he did the same thing now, I wouldn't be able to sit for a while… Especially since I'd been smoking.  Arghhh, I just couldn't win.

"Now," he urged.

I groaned, rolled my eyes, and fetched my viola as ordered.  He set up the stand and I gave him a pathetic look.  "I really don't feel like practicing right now," I whined. 

"I've been paying you $100 a week for this 'private instructor' you found that you promised you would go to.  Apparently, he isn't doing the kind of instructing you need, so I will take care of that on my own."

I squirmed and placed my music on the stand, standing there with my viola under my arm, wishing this weren't happening.

"How many pieces did you go over today in practice?"

"Two," I answered.  "One of them is kind of a breeze, but the other is a pain in the ass and really fucking long."

Jeremy folded his arms and looked displeased at my choice of words.  Oops.  "I think it's going to be even a bigger 'pain in the ass' tonight," he said, smirking slightly.  "Let's hear the one that's a breeze first."

I really hated practicing because the viola isn't really an instrument that sounds good by itself.  It's just the harmony so it sounds kind of stupid without a violin or cello adding it's lovely melody to the piece.  Also, I play more by ear than by reading the notes, so that made it even more difficult to practice.

Needless to say, when I finished my first run-through of the song, I couldn't tell if the expression on Jeremy's face was more amusement or irritation.  "I couldn't keep track of the mistakes," he said.  "You're in luck that I don't have the score in front of me."

I gulped, looking down at the floor and feeling suddenly like a 16 year old again.  It was amazing at how quick he could put me into that mindset of a kid who is in a lot of trouble… which is basically what I was.  

"Let's hear the 'pain in the ass' song," he said almost tauntingly. 

I whined slightly, changing the music, tears wanting to come to my eyes.  I was in so much trouble.  I'd been so bad… hanging out and smoking instead of practicing like I should have been.  I really did deserve the spanking I was going to get.  But ooh, it was going to hurt.

Placing my viola on my shoulder, I played with as much enthusiasm and gusto as possible, trying to save my ass and bluff that I was doing a lot better than I really was.  The good news was that I was high enough to be able to imagine the rest of the orchestra in my head, but a little too high to recover quickly when I screwed up.  I still think the Mendelssohn song sounded much more lovely than it had that afternoon at practice… but not lovely enough to convince Jeremy to keep me out of trouble.

He pulled me towards him, where he sat on the armless, straight-backed chair.  The chair I "practiced" in when I was at home (which was actually used more for old-fashioned spankings than practicing viola).  He looked me in the eyes, a disappointed expression spread across his face.  "Have you been going to private lessons like you're supposed to?" he asked.

I didn't know what to say.  I didn't want to lie to him… but if I told him the truth, he'd be really super mad and I'd be in so much trouble… and I didn't really want that either.  He stared at me as I pondered this in my brain and finally I blurted out, "yes!"

He raised his eyebrows, doubting me.  "You have?  Is your instructor just not that great or what?"

"We've been practicing the other pieces," I lied, fidgeting a little.

"Oh?  Is that so?" he asked, now certainly amused with what I'd said.  "Well how about let's hear those."

Fuck.  I hadn't thought of that.  Now I was really going to be in for it.  "No wait, Jeremy… I…"  Ugh, I had no idea what to say.  

"Yes?"

He waited patiently for me to admit to what I'd done.

I shifted from one foot to another, chewing on my thumbnail, taking deep breaths and trying to think of how I was going to get myself out of this one.  "I mean, we haven't been… okay… fine… no, I haven't been going to practice."  I took a step back to avoid a swat.

"And what have you been doing?" he wanted to know.  He pulled me back towards him, moving my chin so that I was looking into his eyes.

"I dunno…" I muttered.

"Smoking?"

"I… dunno…" I repeated.

He shook his head.  Now I'd really done it.  Now I was in so much trouble.  Ugh, he was going to kill me.

"Go get the hairbrush," he said softly.

Ouchhh… I totally didn't want the evil wooden hairbrush!!  It hurt so much and ugh, I really didn't want that.  But the look on Jeremy's face told me that he wasn't going to accept my pleas, so without a word, I turned and shuffled towards the bathroom where he kept the brush in the top drawer, a constant reminder every time I searched for a washcloth of what would happen when I super misbehaved.  It definitely had to be the most evil thing Jeremy had ever used on me.

I was somewhat scared to come out of the bathroom, and probably would've delayed coming out even longer if Jeremy hadn't yelled, "Today, Amy!"  I closed the drawer and went back to the living room.  

He reached for the button of my jeans and pulled them down, then helped me over his lap and pulled my panties down, too.  I held onto the floor as best as possible, fearing what was about to happen.

"Amy, I'm not very happy to hear that you haven't been practicing your viola like we originally agreed upon," Jeremy said, resting the hairbrush on my bottom.  "And it upsets me even more that you've been deceiving me into thinking I was paying for private lessons."

I squirmed.  "I'm sorry…"

"From now on, you will work with me like we used to… and there will be consequences for failing to practice… do you understand?"

"Yes…" I mumbled.

He lifted the hairbrush and crashed it down on my bottom, taking me somewhat by surprise at how much it actually hurt.  He didn't give me much of a break to learn to tolerate the pain, but instead, kept crashing it down.

"Owwww, owww!" I howled.  

He kept a steady pace, ignoring my cries.  "I'm very disappointed in you, Amy," he said firmly, giving me some hearty swats to the sit spots.  "I'm disappointed that you would stoop to this level of immaturity."  

"Ahhhh but, oww, I'm… ahh!… sorryyyy!!" I yelped, reaching my hand back.

He moved my hand out of the way and kept the hard swats coming, making my backside colorful.  I kicked up a little and he gave me a swat to the thigh.  "You deserve every bit of this spanking, Amy, and you know it," he bellowed.

"Ooowwwww!" I replied, feeling my bum warming up.  It hurt so much.  I just wanted him to stop!  I regretted that I'd smoked instead of practiced… and I regretted that I'd lied to him!  And I super regretted that I'd gotten caught.  "Jeremy I'm sorry!!" I pleaded.

He gave me some harder swats now, and faster.  I was kicking and squirming all over the place while he peppered my cheeks, then sit spot, making sure that I would feel this for a while.

"Are you starting to learn your lesson, Young Lady?" he asked, giving an extremely hard smack to my already throbbing sit spot.

"Ooowwwwwww yessss!" I promised, tears now streaming down my face.

He started spanking me harder and faster then, causing me to kick and squirm and cry like crazy until he finally stopped, releasing my hands that he'd taken in an effort to keep me from blocking.  I immediately rubbed my backside, warm and surely a dark red by this time.  I wouldn't be sitting comfortably for a while!!

"Amy, I don't appreciate you lying to me," he said softly.  "I'm serious.  That's not cool."  

I slid off his lap, rubbing my bottom with one hand, wiping tears out of my eyes with the other.  "I'm sorry," I choked out, crying more and giving him a big hug.

He gathered me in his arms and sat me on his lap.  "I forgive you…" he said, kissing my forehead.  "I just want what's best for you.  I know that things are stressful now, but I don't want you to get into the habit of smoking to deal with it.  Practicing is much better… and much less painful," he added, chuckling slightly at his bad joke.

"Thanks, Jeremy," I said, sniffling and cuddling up to him.  

"You're welcome."

We cuddled like that for a few minutes until he sent me to shower, put on pjs and practice while he made dinner.  I felt like I was a kid again.  And even more so when he tucked me into bed early, told me a cheesy bedtime story and sent me off with a kiss to the forehead.  Of course when he left the room I rolled over onto my tummy… no way was I sleeping on my back that night!

Story: A Friend In Need Is a Friend Indeed

Part of the Practice Makes Perfect mini-series.  Amy's been dealing with her emotional pain by smoking too much.  Jeremy insists that there are other ways for her to feel better, like crying, but she doesn't want to.

A Friend In Need Is A Friend Indeed
by Breanna Carter

"What's going on?" Jeremy asked me one evening when I arrived at his apartment, reeking of cigarette smoke.

"Nothing," I muttered and plopped down on his couch.

He closed the door behind me and towered over me, blocking my view from the tv. "You're just not going to come over here and tell me nothing's going on. I know something is. I can tell during class when you're not focusing and the less talented players are playing better than you, and I can tell when I see you shoving those yellow homework slips in your pocket that says you haven't been doign your work, and I can tell when you smell of cigarettes. So tell me, Amy, what's the problem?"

"Nothing, I'm just stressed."

He folded his arms. "Stressed because you're a procrastinator and you've had weeks to work on this project and you're just now getting started? Stressed because you've neglected to attend classes three times this week and instead you've been hanging out with your pothead friends getting stoned?"

I looked up at him, trying not to express my fear, but rather, confusion in what he was saying. "What? That's not true.."

"Not true my ass. I wasn't born yesterday, Amy, and I hear people talking. And I've seen the way you've been acting, and this pot smoking is going to stop, do you understand?"

"I haven't been smoking pot!" I lied, standing up to defend myself.

"Oh? And I bet you haven't been skipping classes either?" he said sarcastically, still towering over me.

"I haven't!"

"So I can call the school office right now and ask for your attendance and they'd tell me that it was perfect for the whole week?"

"Go ahead and call them," I bellowed. "Who gives a fuck anyway? It's not like I care about graduating."

He shook his head at me. "Listen, I know it's tough dealing with shit sometimes. I know you're close to your grandma and you're worried about her health, but you have to cut this shit out, Amy. Smoking weed isn't going to make her well, and skipping class isn't going to ease the stress. You can't just stop living. You're going to fuck up your whole life and end up selling your body so you can have the money to get yourself more drugs, and that's not the life you want to live."

"I don't care if I sell my body. I don't care. I don't even care if I live long enough to be poor enough and addicted enough to sell my body."

He had been rigid, but now he turned soft, stroking my face gently with his fingers. "Tell me you don't mean that," he begged. "Please, tell me you're not serious, Amy."

I just shook my head, fighting the tears that I'd been fighting for the past two weeks when I'd found out how bad of shape my grandmother was in. Like my mom had told me, she was the most stable thing in my life and the chances of her making it too much longer were slim to none. We'd been expecting her death for so long now that I'd been trying to prepare, but now it was even closer, and I'd realized how prepared I really wasn't. "It's the only way to numb the pain," I whispered to Jeremy, referring to the habit I'd picked up over the last couple of days.

"No, it's not," he answered, pulling me in for a hug. "It's not the only way to numb the pain, babe. There's plenty of other ways, and you know that. You haven't even attempted to try and talk to me about it, or to lose yourself in music like you used to do. There's so many healthier things you could be doing... healthier and legal things. I don't want to see you fuck up everything like this."

There was a big lump in my throat. I was so close to tears, but wanted to be strong. Wanted to prove to myself that I wasn't weak and I could handle this and it was no big deal.

Jeremy didn't buy it anyway, though. "Just cry, Amy... Just cry," he cooed, rubbing my back.

"I can't," I whispered again, for fear that talking would dissolve that lump and I'd begin crying sporatically.

"Yes you can. Cry it out, hon.."

I shook my head and he said nothing else, just released from the hug and pulled me over towards the couch. We'd been through this procedure so many times before, sometimes in a playful manner, sometimes in a stern manner... this time it was just a friendly manner. He tugged at my jeans and panties, pulling them to my knees before turning me over his lap. I shivered slightly, but didn't have it in my heart to beg him to stop. I knew I deserved this.. for skipping classes, for procrastinating, for doing drugs, for lying to my parents about where I was going... I'd deserved this for a long time. He'd known it, too, and was just now confronting me about it because he knew I was stressed. Maybe he thought things would get better, but they just kept getting worse and worse.

He rested a firm hand on my backside, rubbing my back with the other. "Amy, I am so disappointed in you, Young Lady," he scolded, and the firm hand that had been resting was now smacking my bottom rhymetically. Each smack stung like hell and I was squirming within seconds of the spanking. Squirming to free from his strong grip and to dodge some smacks, but it didn't help much. He just held onto me tighter, and spanked harder. "I will not tolerate this behavior that you've been displaying lately. It's unacceptable to skip classes, and more unacceptable to do drugs like you've been doing."

"Oooowww, I know!" I howled, trying to squirm away from his tight grip.

"And if I have to spank you everyday this week to make sure you make it to class and do your homework and stay away from drugs, I will, do you understand me, Young Lady?"

"Yesssss!"

"And I don't know what the deal with orchestra is lately, but I know you haven't been practicing, and if I did the exercise I first tried with you where you were spanked for every missed note or rhythm, I can guarantee that you probably would have trouble sitting down after we were finished, wouldn't you?"

"Yessss!" I answered, now sobbing like a baby. He was spanking so hard and the words he said were piercing me... punching me in the stomach like I hadn't realized before all the shit I'd been doing. And it hurt so much to know that I'd disappointed him so. I'd let him down. I hated feeling like that.

"Now, are you going to behave and do as you're supposed to?" he asked, still spanking me.

"Yesss, I promiseee!!" I sobbed, having the feeling that my bum had turned quite a shade of red by this time.

"And are we going to have to repeat this anytime soon?"

"Nooooo!!"

"Good," he replied and smacked me a good two or three time before stopping.

My face was buried into the couch cushion as I cried... not only for the pain that had been inflicted upon me, but for the fact that I'd disappointed my good friend, and I'm sure everyone else would be disappointed in me if they knew what I'd been doing, and most of all I'd disappointed myself for doing such things. And I cried for my grandma who was in such pain and I knew she'd be better once taken off this earth because she hurt so much sometimes, but she was such an influence in my own life and I loved her so much that I hated to admit it, even if it was true. I cried because I didn't want her to die, and I cried because I wanted her to be happy. And I just cried for everything, forgetting about being strong, forgetting about putting up a wall so no one could see my emotions. I cried everything out, everything I'd been feeling over the last two weeks.

I'd only been over his lap for a few seconds after he stopped before Jeremy scooped me into his arms and held me tightly, pressing my face against his chest and letting my tears stain his shirt. It didn't bother him, though, cause he just held me tighter, rubbing my back, stroking my hair, rocking me back and forth. Don't all of those consoling gestures that he could do... He'd lost people before, too... everyone has. And he knew it was hard, and knew what I was going through. That's why I was happy that he was there for me. He made that clear as we sat on the couch, I in his lap on my tender backside.

"Amy, I'm always here for you, okay?" he whispered in my ear. "I'm your friend and I want you to talk to me... and I want to help you out instead of you fucking up your life."

I nodded. "I know," I sniffled. "I'll do better, I promise."

He smiled, kissing my forehead. "I know, babe... I know it," he said. And we snuggled on the couch for what seemed like forever, until the sun had set and it was getting too chilly to handle. I fell asleep in his arms and woke up with a blanket wrapped around me to the smell of warm soup for dinner. He brought me a bowl and some crackers, sat down beside me and said "I'm here to listen... so talk to me." And from there I spilt my guts, telling him all of my feelings and everything that'd been happening lately... That was just what I needed... a friend :)

Story: Practice Will Always Make Perfect

Part of Practice Makes Perfect mini-series.  Amy's substitute teacher just happens to be Jeremy.  And she's kinda craving his special kind of attention.  So she pushes every button til she gets it.

Practice Will Always Make Perfect
by Breanna Carter

It was the second week into the second semester of my senior year in high school and they still hadn't found a replacement teacher for our orchestra conductor. All we had was substitutes who couldn't tell the difference from a cello and a violin (no offense if you don't know the difference, but you'd do us no good, either!). So we were working on our second week of having not played with a surprise walked through the door that even I wasn't expecting.

"Okay, everyone... we're actually going to play today," the figure said, standing in front of the class. I don't think half of us heard him because we were all talking... and actually, I'd heard him, but didn't care much until I turned around and saw Jeremy standing there.

"Guys! It's Jeremy!" I whispered. They'd known that Jeremy and I had been good friends back in the day and they knew that I was playing in the Centenary Orchestra with him.

The glanced up and whispered back, "Wow! He is cute!"

"Settle down, guys..." Jeremy said, trying to hush the crazy class.

The noise began to die down, but not before my friend said, "You didn't know he was coming?"

"Hadn't a clue. Maybe he just decided."

Finally, the room was quiet and Jeremy was allowed to explain himself. "I'd heard that your teacher left to go to New York or something, huh?"

Everyone nodded.

"Well, some of you may know me... I graduated from here two years ago as a viola player.."

I yelled, "Whoooo!!! Go violas!" You know... like violas were cool or something. Yeah, orchestra was about the only class I was a smartass in because most of the people in there liked me.

Jeremy smiled and continued. "And anyway... I'm in my second year of college and since all you have to have is some college to be a substitute, I offered to take over her classes until they can find a replacement."

I grinned from ear to ear. Hopefully they wouldn't find a replacement anytime soon!

"Now... I know how Ms. Jones was... She was my teacher for at least seven years. I know what she does and does not tolerate, and you can expect me to be the same way. You will treat me with the same respect that you do her. I won't allow you to goof off in class. Otherwise, we'll be having a fun time and we'll still get to compete in state competition and we'll still get to go to Tennessee like she'd planned."

There was an almost simultaneous, "Yay!"

Everyone got their things out of their lockers and started tuning up and stuff. No one would admit it, but I actually think we were a little excited to get to play again. It'd been a while since we'd gotten to work on any music... at least a month.

Jeremy passed out parts to some new pieces to see what we thought of them and I'll have to admit that he has good taste. Plus, he's a viola player so he didn't give us blow off parts. It was great!! I was so ecstatic that at the end of class, I went up and gave him a hug.

"How come you didn't tell me you'd be coming?"

"Were my hints too subtle for you? I told ya that I had a surprise and you'd find out in the morning."

I thought back to the evening before when we were talking on the phone. "Apparently they were a little too subtle cause I didn't catch on. But I'm excited!"

"Yeah, but Amy, be good, okay? Just because you're my friend doesn't mean that you can get away with stuff that everyone else can't."

"You shouldn't be worried about me being good," I teased, noting that the next class was coming inside.

"If you were good, you'd be getting to class!" he teased back. "Now go!"

"Aye aye, captain!" I said, saluting him and stalking off.

The next couple of days were a mixture of good and bad. Good because I got to see Jeremy everyday and he was total eye candy, but bad because he was as repetitive and boring as my old teacher. We kept playing the same parts over and over and over again until we perfected it, so I decided to be a little devious.

"Do we really have to keep playing this same part?" I complained.

He shot me a glare soooo mean. "Yes, Amy, we do." He raised his hands to conduct us over the same part again and I didn't even bother playing. "Amy, you're part of the viola section, yes?"

"I guess," I muttered.

"I asked the violas to play which means that you should be playing as well, am I correct?"

"I guess, but this is stupid. I don't want to keep playing the same part over and over and over!"

He didn't look too happy. I could only hope that this would result in a spanking after school! No such luck, however. He simply sat down and said, "Which means you've perfected it, I assume?"

"Yes."

"Let's hear it then."

"Excuse me?"

"You claim that you've perfected it, so let's hear you play it, up to tempo."

"Up to tempo?" I gulped... that wasn't quite the reprimand I'd been expecting.

"Yes," he turned the metronome on and the fast clicks matched the beating of my heart. Arggh, that damn thing drives me crazy! It's so we can keep the beat and I literally despise it. Jeremy knows that.

"Any day now," he urged.

Scowling, I raised my instrument and played the measures that we'd had to keep repeating. Of course, I failed miserably. Surprise? I think not.

"Oh? I thought you could play it perfectly?"

I blushed to no end. He wasn't supposed to humiliate me in front of the class like that!

When I gave no answer, he continued with the lesson, "Violas, from the top of the measure, and this time, Miss Amy is going to join us."

I rolled my eyes at him, casting him a look as if saying that I wanted to kill him. So, like a puppy beaten into submission, I played the damn part over and over and over again.

At the end of class, I went up to yell at Jeremy for embarrassing me in front of the class, but he beat me to it.

"How dare you act like this class is your playtime," he scolded.

"Yeah, well, you didn't have to go and embarrass me like you did!"

"I didn't? Seemed to me like you were showing out and practically asking for...." he stopped dead in his sentence. "Oh... I see. So you want a...?" he paused, not completing his sentence or allowing me to answer him. "Well, we'll see about that," he concluded, then walked off, leaving me standing in the front of the class, stunned.

I racked my brain the rest of the day to try and figure out what in God's name he had been getting at. I mean, it looked like I'd earned my spanking, but it didn't sound like it'd be one that I'd like. I spent the rest of the day fidgeting, waiting for the minutes to pass so the final bell would ring. Of course, you know how those days are. They crawl by endlessly as if they're waiting for Christmas. I felt like I was waiting for Christmas!

The 3:30 bell finally rang and everyone shoved out of my English class, talking loudly about their plans for the evening. That's what I loved about being a senior... the classes were so damn easy, you could hang out with your friends during the week!

I tried to find Jeremy after school to see what his deal was, but he was nowhere to be found. I tried calling his cell phone, but no answer. There was this feeling in my stomach that I didn't particularly care for too much. Why was he avoiding me?

Instead of going straight home like I would have normally done, I went to the park for a minute to smoke a cigarette or two. Yes, it was illegal and no, my parents didn't know I did it, nor did Jeremy. In fact, I think the only people who did were the runners on the track who saw me about once a week smoking the same pack of Salems. I only did it when I was really pissed or really stressed, and at this point in time, I couldn't figure out what it was that I was feeling.

I hadn't been at the park longer than ten minutes when I felt my phone vibrating inside my pocket. I reached it out to see that Jeremy was calling.

"Hello?" I answered, taking a final puff of my cigarette and throwing it on the ground.

"Where are you?"

"Why does it matter?"

"Don't be a brat, Amy, you're in for it enough already. Just answer me."

I scowled. "At the park."

"Come to my apartment."

"Why?"

"If you'd rather me pick your ass up from the park, I'll do that."

I had sudden images of Jeremy's tall frame dragging me across the parking lot of the park towards his car. Didn't like the sound of that. "Um, I'll be there in a couple of minutes."

I hauled ass to my car, smirking slightly. Brats like me *always* got what they wanted! What I wanted was a good spanking from Jeremy... when did I not want that? And now I was going to get it, just like a real punishment... just like the first time he spanked me!

I shifted nervously in anticipation on my drive to Jeremy's apartment. The music was blaring, but I couldn't hear it... my heart was thumping too loudly. I finally pulled up to his place and knocked slightly on the door.

He opened it and pulled me inside. "Come here," he ordered, shutting the door and walking towards the dining room table.

"What is it?" I asked exasperatedly.

"I am sick and tired of you acting up in my class and I'm going to put a stop to it, Young Lady, do you hear me?"

"Loud and clear," I answered sarcastically.

He groaned and moved his hands towards the button on my jeans. "Well, you wanted it, and you got it," he told me then quickly undid my jeans and tugged them down to the floor angrily. He might as well have shoved me over the table, cause that's what it felt like he was doing.

"What...?" I began, but broke off when he began pulling my panties down to the floor.

"Over the table, Amy, and don't so much as move, got it?"

"Erm, okay," I said, gulping.

I leaned over the table, arms under me, catching a sort of chill from being bared from the waist down. It was silent for a couple of seconds and then I heard it: the clanging sound and then leather sliding through loops. Ohhhh no!

"Jeremy... are you...?"

He answered me with more clanging sounds and then a slap across the bottom.

I shrieked. "OOOWWWW!!" I howled, reaching back and grabbing my backside.

He grabbed my wrists, pushing me back down on the table and landing three hard smacks right in a row on my sitspots.

"Ahhhh, Jeremy!" I squealed. "That hurts!"

"But isn't this what you wanted?" he sneered, landing more smacks.

The pain was crazy! True, I'd wanted a spanking, but not this! Each deafening smack was landing ontop of another, then followed by my screams and apologies.

"Do you see what happens when you disrupt my class, Amy?" he asked, hitting my thighs and causing me to make the same noise that an opera singer might make.

"Yesssssss, sirrrr!" I howled.

"And are you going to pop off smartass comments to me?"

"Noooo, sirrrr!!!"

"I am SICK of your defiance, Young Lady," he bellowed, not allowing me breathing time to regain myself. "And I will not tolerate this any longer. Anymore lip out of you and you'll be one very very sorry little girl, do you understand?"

"Yessssss, sirrrrrrrr!!" I said, squirming to no end. "I'm sorrrryyyy!!"

"You better be, because this will be a piece of cake compared to what happens if we have this problem again." He finished up with a very hard smack to each thigh then sat me down at the dining room table. He took out three sheets of paper and wrote at the top of the first one "I will do as I'm told in class and not make inappropriate comments."

He handed me the paper. "I want three pages, front and back, of these lines, to be turned into me tomorrow in front of the class."

I sniffled, nodding and shifting once more on my sore bottom.

He patted my head. "Good girl," he said, then smirked and handed me the pencil, then made his way to watch tv. I glowered at him from across the room. Lines are NOT fun!

Story: Practice Still Makes Perfect

Part of the Practice Makes Perfect mini series.  Amy's senior year in high school, she is given the opportunity to play with a college orchestra.  Little did she know that she would come into contact with Jeremy again.  They strike up a conversation about the past... literally.

Practice Still Makes Perfect
by Breanna Carter

When I was a sophomore in high school, I was admitted into the advanced orchestra class. That was an interesting year, to say the least. I became fairly decent friends with the first chair guy named Jeremy, who was a senior. In fact, by the middle of the year, he’d taught me enough that I became second chair and sat next to him in class. After that, we were even better friends.

The thing that got us close, though, was the fact that he taught me private lessons. And after getting very irritated at me for not practicing, he ended up spanking me. That was a weird and kind of delightful experience. I can’t say I’d change anything.

After Jeremy graduated, things in high school were very bland. I had talked to him a few times since he left school, found out he was going to a local college, but really, I didn’t talk to him much. I really hated that cause he was such a great friend.

By the time my senior year rolled around, I still remembered him. I kept wondering what it’d be like to run into him somewhere... what he’d say to me, what I’d say back, if we’d talk about the spanking he gave me, if he’d threaten to spank me again. All of these thoughts kept going through my mind, but I knew it’d never happen. After all, I hadn’t seen him since he graduated.

One day, though, a man came to our orchestra to speak with the class about the music program at Centenary College. Actually, he came to help us out with some Allstate music, but while he was there my teacher urged him to talk to us about Centenary.

“And if any of you want to play with the Centenary Orchestra this year, it’s fine...” he said, concluding his speech.

As the person who sits in the front of the room, I couldn’t very well pass out, though I wanted to. This man had just said that I could join a college orchestra... and you know what was going through my head? No, not that it was a college orchestra where there’d probably be a lot of hott guys (well, that was going through my head, too), but I was thinking, “wow, Jeremy goes to Centenary... maybe he’s in the orchestra!”

When I was finally able to breathe again, I noticed that everyone around me was migrating towards the door to put their instruments in their locker. The orchestra conductor and my teacher were standing in the front of the room talking. I felt bad interrupting, but I knew that I had to join this orchestra.

“Hey, girl!” my teacher said, instantly patting me on the back. “This is Amy, our first chair violist. She’s a wonderful player!”

I tried to refrain from blushing, but you just can’t help stuff like that when someone’s bragging on you.

“Hi,” the man said, extending his hand for me to shake. “I’m Dr. Golabsky.”

I smiled. “Hi. I was wondering,” I said, fidgeting because I always get nervous when I talk to new people, “if I could be in the Centenary Orchestra...”

He smiled. “Sure. I’ll just need to hear you before-hand. When is the best day for me to hear you?”

I blushed a little. “I dunno. Any time is fine..”

The bell rang dismissing us to our next class. “Okay, how about Wednesday?” he asked.

I nodded. “That’s fine. I gotta go!” I nearly fell over trying to run away from the room so I could get to class on time. I was nervous about playing in front of people, but I was morely nervous about getting to see Jeremy again. I ran through the conversations we might have in my head. Would he remember me? Would he remember the spanking? I tried to reason with myself... I wasn’t even sure if I’d made the orchestra yet or not.

Surely, though, I made it... and not because I tried out, but really because musicians are lazy and forgetful and I never really had the chance to be heard. The days he came, I wasn’t there. So he took my teacher’s word for it and relayed the message to me to be at rehersal on Monday at seven.

That Monday before practice I spent about an hour trying to get ready. I’m not the type of person to spend hours on end putting on makeup and doing my hair, but I think I was so excited about seeing Jeremy again that I wanted to make sure my hair looked a little decent. I even paid attention to what clothes I was going to wear! (Thin black pants and a T-shirt, white cotton panties, in case you’re wondering..)

At six-thirty I hopped in my car, hands already shaking. I’m not one who likes going to new places. Especially by myself. As far as I knew, I would know nobody there.

I pulled up to the Centenary parking lot about twenty minutes early. I’m also the type of person who hates to be late, but hates more to be early. So I sat in my car for about three minutes until my anticipation got to me and I had to get out. Somehow I managed to find the music building and I ambled up the stairs. I opened the huge door and stood in the hallway stupidly for a few minutes, then saw someone with a cello case and decided to follow them. Good thing they were going to the practice room else I’d have been lost. Word of advice: always get directions when you’re going some place new.

The room was nearly deserted when I got there. I saw a few chairs scattered around and about seven people were wandering around. I even recgonized some of the people that were wandering around. I stood there dumbly for a few minutes until one of the girls who plays the flute said hello.

“Hi, I’m Amanda,” she said, smiling.

“Amy,” I replied, throwing a nervous smile back.

“You play the viola?”

“Yeah,” I murmured.

Another flute player and an oboeist came and sat down, too, and introduced themselves to me. All I could think was, “wow, these people are really nice.”

“What school do you go to?” one asked.

“Are you a senior?” another asked.

“Are you coming here next year?” the first asked.

I was going crazy trying to answer their questions and look for Jeremy at the same time until finally the questions died down and I was able to ask them if the seat I was trying to sit in was taken. It wasn’t.

I sat there for a little while, heart thumping, biting my lower lip. I glanced at my watch: 6:52. Eight more minutes then I’d find out for sure if Jeremy was in the orchestra.

It wasn’t even eight minutes before I saw him shuffling inside, half-asleep look on his face, brown hair almost to his chin and fallen in front of his blue eyes. He was wearing baggy jeans, just like I was used to him wearing, and some ADIDAS sandals that looked a few years old, and he had on a polo shirt. He flopped into the first chair spot and opened his case, pulling his beautiful instrument out. It took me a minute to realize that I was staring at him. My stomach becoming uneasy, I decided to take my own instrument out and not speak until spoken to.

Minutes later, another person came in and sat down next to me, and by now I was giddy as hell. “Hi,” I said. “I’m Amy.”

He smiled then exclaimed that his name was Jordan. He put the music on the stand and said that it was Haydn. I was excited to be playing Haydn... he’s my favorite composer. I was more excited when Jeremy stood up and walked towards the flute player, Amanda, and began talking to her. I heard her say something like, “did you meet Amy?” and I was trying my hardest to pretend like I wasn’t listening but I knew that Jeremy was looking at me and this was the moment of truth...

“Oh! I didn’t even see her!” he said.

I turned around and smiled, face red as a firetruck. “Hi,” I muttered. “I’m Amy.” I extended my hand and he his, and we shook then he pushed his brown hair out of his eyes.

“Hey, I know you!” he nearly shrieked, huge grin on his face. “Hey, Amanda, she used to go to school with me,” he explained and I desperately prayed that the next thing he said was NOT that he spanked me once because I neglected to practice. It wasn’t. “She was a pretty cool kid. We were stand partners. How ya been doin’ Amy?” he asked, punching me playfully.

“I’m okay.”

“That’s awesome! You still in high school, right? Senior this year?”

“Yeah.”

“That’s awesome. I remember my senior year. It was the shit.”

I grinned, totally glad that he remembered me and even more glad that he was being nice. I wanted to know all about how he was doing in college, what groups he had joined, the new friends he’d made, what he was majoring in, all that good stuff, but we were interrupted by the conductor who meerly tapped his stick on the stand and Jeremy hopped back to his seat.

“Hello everyone,” the conductor said, then smiled at me. “Glad you could make it,” he mouthed then addressed the orchestra. “Guys, this is Amy. She’s going to be playing with us this semester.”

Everyone looked at me and I could feel my face turning hot again.

It was an amazing practice. I didn’t know I was so good at sight-reading until that night. I played the songs really well and when I got lost, I just kept going, pretending like I knew what I was doing. And the Haydn song was amazing. It was called Miracle. The conductor even made a joke and said, “it’s called Miracle as in, it’ll be a miracle if we can perfect this song by the concert.” All in all, I liked the orchestra a lot, especially since I could stare at Jeremy the whole time.

After the practice I was packing up my instrument, watching all the people pass by me and listening to some of them murmur how much they were glad I was playing with them, when Jeremy approached.

“Heya,” he said, pushing the hair out of his eyes, again.

“Hi,” I said shyly, putting Jimmy the Viola in his case and closing him in.

“So things have been going okay lately, huh?” he asked as I stood.

“Yup, they’ve been pretty good,”I admitted, walking with him.

“That’s awesome. Keeping up practicing and all?”

I blushed. Maybe he did remember. “Yeah.”

“That’s cool.” He opened the door for me. “First chair this year?”

I smiled. “Definitely. I had the best private lessons teacher when I was a sophomore...”

He grinned back. “And what made me the best private lessons teacher?”

We were finally in darkness. I decided to fess up, especially since I wanted it again so badly. “Because,” I began, looking behind me to make sure no one was in hearing distance, “you spanked me.”

He stopped walking. “Really? You remember that?”

My face was now on fire and I was about to say, “gotta go” and run for my life, but he said something before I got the chance to.

“I remember it, too... Did you, er, like it?”

Okay, saying my face was on fire before he said that was a lie... now it was REALLY on fire.

When I didn’t answer him he said, “I did.”

“Oh my gosh,” I muttered, holding my head in my hands.

“Hey, hey, I’m sorry...” he said, and I could tell he was blushing, too. “Sorry, Amy... I just... I... Ugh, I’m sorry.”

“No, no, it’s not that. I did, I liked it... I...” I couldn’t think of what to say.

We both just stood there for a little while, I trying to steady my pulse and regulate my breathing, and he probably trying to do the same. “Okay...” he began. “Now that we’ve both been totally embarrassed and stuff, I’d like to, once again, apologize, for putting that so bluntly...”

I nodded. “It’s okay. If you hadn’t said anything, I’d have been too chicken... but now that we know that we both enjoy it... well... maybe...” I stopped, not knowing the right way to word this.

“Maybe we could do it again sometime?” he finished.

I smiled. “Yeah.”

“So what are you doing tonight?” We began walking again.

“Nothing, just going home I guess.”

He looked at his watch. “Well, it’s only nine... I have the feeling that you probably need a little reminder that you need to practice. The concert IS in a few weeks, you know, and you gotta have that stuff perfected by then...”

I quivered. “I don’t know what you’re talking about...” I said, implying that I did, yet I was being defiant.

He raised his eyebrows. “Oh, I think you do, Young Lady. Come on, we’re going to take a trip to my room.”

This scening was actually quite exciting and I allowed him to lead me across the campus to the dorm rooms. We got inside the large building and he was holding my hand, waving to the various people he knew, but keeping the grip tight on my hand to let me know that he meant business. My viola was still thrown across my shoulder, and he across his, and I wondered why the hell I hadn’t just put it in my car while we were outside.

We finally got to his dorm room and he closed the door and locked it. “Do you need to call your parents and let them know you’re going to be late?” he asked.

“Yeah, prolly so,” I answered, sitting my instrument down next to one of the small beds. He handed me the cordless phone and I hurridely dialed the number to my house. I explained to my mom that a friend from orchestra was helping me practice one of the songs and that I’d be late getting home, but I’d call her before I left.

I hung up the phone and watched him turn on the cd player and turn the volume up super loud. Lucky for me, it was one of my favorite bands. “Sorry,” he said over the loud music. “We wouldn’t want anyone to hear now would we?” He grinned that famous Jeremy grin and I couldn’t help but blush and smile back.

He plopped down on his bed and pulled me over to him. “Drop the pants, Young Lady,” he said.

I gulped. “But, Jeremy,” I began, trying to think of a good way to plead.

“Right now!”

I nodded and unbuttoned my black pants then slid them to the floor. He just sat there. “Panties, too,” he said.

I wasn’t prepared for this. Last time he hadn’t asked for my panties to be lowered; he had lowered them while I was across his lap.

“I mean it, Amy.”

I put my thumbs between the waistband of my panties and my stomach then tugged them down to my knees, exposing myself. I couldn’t help but blush more. Jeremy just grinned.

“Okay, kiddo, over my lap.” He guided me into position and I couldn’t help but hear the lyrics to the song... be a good girl like you’re supposed to. Ugh, I love that band so much.

I buried my face into the sheets of his bed. I could barely hear his scolding. “You need to practice so you’ll be a great viola player,” he was saying, hand rested on my bare bottom.

“Okay,” I mumbled.

He smacked my rear end sharply. “That’ll be ‘yes, sir’ to you, got it?”

“Yes, sir,” I said, groaning.

His hand rested lightly on my bottom again. I took a deep breath in and felt his hand raise again and an instant later it was raining down on my backside. I couldn’t help but squirm lots and bite my lower lip to keep from yelping. I knew now why he had the music turned up so loudly.

He was scolding me but I couldn’t hear. I was trying to concentrate on hearing the sound of his hand meeting my flesh. And the music that was playing.

I could feel my face flushing, but morely, I could feel the redness of my bottom. With each smack it began to sting more and more until finally I couldn’t take it and I was kicking and gripping onto the sheets of his bed for dear life. And then, after the end of the third song we were listening to, a good ten minutes into the spanking, I began crying. That must have been some site to see... a senior in high school over the lap of a college guy who was spanking the daylights out of her until she was bawling like a baby.

It wasn’t long after I began crying that he stopped spanking and began rubbing my bottom. He was rubbing in little circles with one hand and stroking my hair with the other. It wasn’t until the forth song was over and the cd stopped playing that I could hear his soothing voice telling me that it was all over and it’d be okay.

“Shhhhhh, Amy, I’m finished. It’s all over, baby,” he said in this soothing voice.

I just nodded, still crying a little. His hands felt so nice rubbing the sting away. Er, geeze, it was great.

Finally, my crying stopped and he picked me up and hugged me tightly. “That was a lot of fun,” he whispered in my ear.

I blushed. “Yeah, it was,” I whispered back.

He reached down and pulled my panties back up then adjusted them, and finally pulled my pants up, too, giving me a slight pat on the rear. “We should do this some other time,” he offered.

I smiled. “Yes, we should.”

He stood up and grabbed my hand and my viola and walked me out to my car. I unlocked the door and he hugged me. “Think about me while you’re sitting on that hott rear,” he said then winked.

I giggled. “Don’t worry, I will.”

Story: Practice Makes Perfect

First story in the Practice Makes Perfect mini series.  Amy's new music instructor (also her classmate) has an interesting strategy to help her remember to practice.

Practice Makes Perfect
by Breanna Carter

At the end of my freshman year, I was granted permission to be in the advanced orchestra the next year under the condition that I practiced hard over the summer and got private lessons. Well, I did half of what I agreed to. I practiced every night, literally, until the tips of my fingers were numb and I couldn’t press down on the strings anymore. I mean, what else did I have to do? I learned all these tricky rhythms. After all, it was nifty for a sophomore to be in the advanced orchestra, since most of the people in there were juniors and seniors who had played their instruments their entire lives.

The year began before I knew it and I was filled with anxiety and excitement about the new year. That was the year that my teacher decided to do a new thing. She told us that we were going to buddy up, preferrably juniors and seniors would be paired with the lowerclassmen, but since there weren’t very many of us, it wouldn’t be so possible. She told us that the person we would be paired with would kind of like a guide. They would let us know what we needed to practice and help us out with some tricky stuff. She paired us in the order of chairs we were in. There were 6 people in my section. I was fourth chair, which I was very pleased about. I was paired with the guy who sat in the first chair, our section leader. His name was Jeremy and he was a senior that grinned a lot and wore baggy jeans and T-shirts and had semi-long hair that fell down to his nose. It seemed as if everybody in the orchestra knew him well from his great sense of humor and awesome personality. Apparently, I was lucky to be paired with him. My friends told me so themselves.

Thus, the year began.

The beginning was easy. We practiced on the music to try out for allstate and played a couple of songs that weren’t too hard. It wasn’t until after allstate tryouts that I started having trouble playing. I wanted to cry sometimes because I couldn’t play the music. Whenever Jeremy and I were in the practice rooms as once a week we were assigned to, I felt bad because he played so well and I couldn’t do it. But he was always nice about it. He never insulted me, just showed me how to play it, told me where my fingers went, and played it over and over to drill the sound in my head.

“I can’t do it,” I whined one particular day.

“Sure you can. Look, just take it slowly.” He played the measures slowly then invited me to do with him, but it was futile. I couldn’t do it. We worked and worked and worked on that song until I felt the light of inspiration on me. He grinned widely and I was so happy that I finally got the song down that I jumped up and down for a moment and then we played the whole song, and I only messed up once or twice! It was so nifty. “Told ya that you could do it,” he said, punching me playfully and looking at his watch. “Holy shit!” he muttered.

“What?” I said.

“It’s 4:15. We must’ve missed the bell ring. How come nobody told us!” he said, immediately putting his instrument in his case while I stood there in utter shock.

“It’s 4:15?” I asked, my heart racing inside of me. Orchestra was the last class of the day and it was over at 3:30 and I caught the bus and... “But that means that I missed my bus..” I stammered.

He closed his case. “Missed your bus? Oh yeah. Forgot you were a sophomore,” he said, smacking himself on the head.

I, on the other hand was panicking. “How am I going to get home!” I muttered, wanting to throw my own instrument down on the ground and watch it smash into pieces.

“Hey hey now, it’s okay, little one,” he said, patting my head. “Where do you live?”

I pointed. “That way.”

“That tells me a lot.” He took my instrument from me and placed it in its case then said, “I’ll give you a ride home if you promise me that you’ll practice the other song and have it perfected by next week.”

“But I can’t..”

“Fine, you can walk.”

I gave him an evil look. “Fine, fine. I’ll practice. It’ll be perfect. You don’t mind giving me a ride?” I said, the excitement welling up inside of me. The only thing I could think was that this hott senior guy was giving me a ride home!

“No, it’s no problem. As long as you don’t live too far away.”

“I don’t,” I said, explaining to him where my neighborhood was.

“Oh, that’s awesome,” he said. “That’s by where I live.” He handed me my case then opened the door for me leading me out of the practice room and through the small hallway, then the classroom, and finally the outside hallway where our lockers were. I shoved my instrument into the locker and slammed the door shut. He then lead me outside into the bright sunlight where only a few students still mingled around outside. He stopped and talked to a few of them, introducing me as his “sophomore buddy” and then we approached a blue car. My mouth dropped. It was a really nice car. I didn’t know what kind it was, didn’t really care. He unlocked the doors with his automatic control thingy and I hopped inside and sat down on the tan leather. I oooed to myself as he cranked the engine and the loud music blared in my ears.

“Sorry,” he said. “I jammed on the way to school.” He turned it down a little and I noticed that it was a band I liked a lot. We didn’t talk much of the ride. Every now and then he’d make sure he was going the right way, ask me about my classes, and once he asked me if I took private lessons.

“No,” I replied.

“Why not? With a little of those, you could be great!” he said.

I shrugged. “I don’t want to, I guess.”

“Why not?”

I rolled my eyes. “I dunno. I don’t have the money, or the time..” but both of us knew I was just making up excuses. “Besides, the last teacher I had was bitchy.”

“Ahhh,” he said, nodding.

“That’s the house,” I said, pointing.

“Well hey,” he said, pulling into the driveway, “I’d be happy to give you some lessons, and it’s fine with me if you don’t pay me. I mean, you know, it’d be more logical seeing as I don’t have a degree in teaching. But maybe you could do that and next year you’ll be first chair?”

I smiled. “Maybe,” I said, bringing myself back to reality.

“Just think about it.”

I nodded and got out of the car.

“See ya later!” he said.

“Bye.”

The entire night I thought about what Jeremy had said. I mean, honestly, he and I didn’t know each other that well, and it was kind of strange being taught private lessons by someone who was only two years older than me. But he was really good at what he did, and maybe he could help me a little. I decided if he brought it up I’d go for it, and silently prayed that night that he’d bring it up.

And sure enough he did. We decided on a day that would be good for both of us and we stayed after school to work on the music that we’d gotten. And I improved tremendously. Not only did Jeremy recognize it, but so did my teacher. And the rest of the people in my section. The cool part was that midterms were coming up and with the beginning of a new semester comes new seating arrangements, and if I kept up the good work I was sure to make first or second chair, according to Jeremy. I didn’t see how I could manage to make first chair seeing as Jeremy was my teacher, but it didn’t matter. The thought of being second chair and sitting right next to him all the time was a very nice thought. My crush on him was growing more and more as the days passed...

“You gotta practice it, Amy. First stand is tough competition...”

“I know I know,” I said, having heard this lecture three or four times already. “I’ll practice. I’ve just been busy lately.” Right, if busy meant lazy. I hadn’t felt like practicing. I felt like watching tv for hours. I hadn’t even done my homework..

“Okay. Look. Tomorrow, I want this to be more together than it is now, okay? We’re going to have a lesson.”

I nodded. Yay! Another lesson! More time with Jeremy!

We went through the song two more times until Jeremy was too irritated with my lack of practice to go any further. He took me home, as always, and I promised that I’d practice hard and make him proud the next day. He smiled the most adorable smile and said I better then we left it at that.

The problem was, I didn’t practice much that night. I practice enough to get the first half sounding good, but the rest sounded terrible. I didn’t have it in me. I didn’t really care what chair I was anymore.

But Jeremy did.

That day in orchestra he told me that we’d have to go by his house to have the lesson that evening because the practice rooms were being used up. Apparently, one day out of the week the band students had private lessons in those rooms. It just happened to be that it was that night. I told Jeremy that I didn’t mind extending the date to a later time, but he said no, that it would be fine to have it at his house. It didn’t bother me that much. I didn’t want to argue, cause I really wanted to spend the evening with him, and at his house, that meant I could stay later if it called for it.

Oh, and it did call for it.

We walked through the hallway traffic and stopped next to some of his friends who knew me as “sophomore” or “sophy” for short. They talked for a little while, every now and then acknowledging my presence. I was shy enough as it was, but putting me around seniors made me even more shy. Some of his friends complimented on that, saying that seniors shouldn’t be spoken to by underclassmen unless they are spoken to first. We finally made it through the mass of people and ended up in front of his car. We spoke to each other the entire way to his house, and even sang along to some music. I was feeling more and more comfortable around him.

We pulled into the driveway of a small townhouse. He explained to me that he lived there with his brother who wasn’t there often because he had to work so much. He told me that his brother was a nurse at one of the hospitals in town and was going to start his training to be a doctor once he had the money. He could afford a much nicer house, but he was saving up. Jeremy was kicked out of the house by his dad at the beginning of the school year because of some personal issues concerning religion that Jeremy would rather have not talked about. But he lived with his brother now in the cozy townhouse, and his brother wouldn’t let him work but made sure that instead he finished up high school in good standings so he could get a scholarship. And Jeremy was doing just that.

I walked inside and Jeremy fixed us both a Coke and then he kind of showed me around, although there wasn’t much to see. The living room was small, and the kitchen was smaller, in a room next to the kitchen was a bigger room that was Jeremy’s. His room was filled with posters and it wasn’t exactly in the neatest condition, but it would do. There was a spiral staircase next to Jeremy’s room in the living room that led upstairs to another bedroom that was his brother’s.

“And that’s that,” he said, grinning and telling me to have a seat. I sat myself on the couch in front of a tv and he brought a chair into the middle of the room and sat a stand in front of me. “Just let me hear you, and then we’ll work on finding out where to sit.”

A nervous pit began to form in my stomach. I honestly didn’t want him to be angry at me... But I figured maybe the bit of practice I had gotten from class earlier that day would make it sound better.

I was wrong. I messed up the entire rhythm and played so many wrong notes. By the end of my playing Jeremy had a calm look on his face, but I knew that he was really disappointed inside.

“I thought...” he began.

I nodded.

“I thought you were going to practice this last night?”

“I did,” I defended.

He raised his eyebrows. “And it sounds like that? That wasn’t much better than what you played for me yesterday.”

I shrugged. “I guess that uhm, it didn’t help to practice.”

“Bullshit,” he said. “I guess you didn’t practice enough.”

“Maybe not,” I shrugged.

“Look, I’m trying to help YOU out by these lessons, Amy. I’m not doing this for entertainment or putting you down.”

I nodded.

“You promised you were going to practice.”

“I know. I’m sorry.”

“You were sorry last time you didn’t practice.” He paused for a moment. “Obviously you haven’t learned your lesson.”

“No, please Jeremy. I have. I really have. Don’t stop giving me lessons... please.”

“Oh, I’m not going to stop giving you lessons. But I’m going to teach you one that you’ll never forget,” he said, standing from the chair and moving the stand back. “Stand up.” I did as told, anxious. He sat down on the couch where I had previously been, right in the middle. “Pull your pants down.”

I blinked. “Huh?”

“Pull your pants down.”

“...Why?”

“I told you. I’m going to teach you a lesson that you won’t forget.”

I blinked again and stood there for a moment. I was snapped out of it whenever I saw the angry look on his face and decided to comply, still not aware of what exactly he was going to do. I unbuttoned my pants and unzipped them, then kind of stood there and stared at him for a moment.

“Fine, that’ll do,” he said, grabbing my left arm and pulling me over his lap. He pulled my pants down to my knees. It was then that the realization hit me.

“Wait, you’re not going to...?” my voice trailed off. He was going to spank me? I hadn’t been spanked since I was a kid! And I didn’t even remember it!

I felt his thumbs on the wasteband of my panties and felt them slide down my legs to where my jeans were.

“Nooooo!” I nearly screamed. “Jeremy... look... I...”

“Stop it, Amy. You promised me that you would practice and you broke that promise and now’s your time to pay for it. Now stop whining like a 5 year old.”

I gulped, swallowing my pleas.

He placed his hand down on my tingling bottom. “This isn’t the first time I’ve warned you on practicing.”

I nodded.

“I’m very disappointed in you.”

My bottom was still tingling, even as he lifted his hand and I felt the breeze for a split second then his hand smacked my bottom and I screamed because I wasn’t expecting it to sting so much.

“Owwwwwwwww!”

“Not so loud,” he said, the anger seemed to have gone from his voice. And for a minute, I thought he was finished. I was wrong.

SMAACK!!!

I whined again, not as loud as the last time. He didn’t give me a chance to breathe this time, but instead kept on spanking me rapidly. I heard him saying something to me but I couldn’t make out what it was because I was embarassed and in pain all at the same time. I never knew how much spankings could hurt, but I said nothing more than ouch or ow. After a while his smacks died down and my bottom felt like it was on fire. Finally he stopped and rested his hand on my still tingling, but now with warmth, bottom.

“I’m sorry,” I blubbered.

“Me too,” he said, rubbing my bottom slightly. I lay there regaining my composure for a few minutes. “Okay... here’s the deal. First, you play the notes without worrying about rhythm. For every note you miss, you earn yourself one smack. Then, you play the rhythm correctly without worrying the notes and for every mistake, one smack. Then we’ll do each over until you’ve done it perfectly then we’ll try them both together. I’ll give you your punishment after you’ve done both playing the notes and playing the rhythm each time.”

I nodded, actually kind of liking the idea. It was a comfortable position over his lap like this.

He stood me back up and I hurridly pulled my pants and underwear back up. I played the piece, still messing up from my nervousness, but making up for it whenever I did my rhythm. I had earned myself 50 more smacks. I asked if I could try again, and just compile them together and Jeremy said that was fine and I tried to breathe and steady my shaking hands. I sat on my still stinging bottom and tried again, this time earning 60 smacks. He stood up and walked towards me, then told me to sit my instrument down on his chair, and then he sat down in my spot. Once again I lowered my pants and he took down my panties and he proceeded to spank me 110 times as I tried to count in my head. I lost count after 20, beginning to kick and squirm being warned periodically to stop or he’d add more.

“Owwwwww!” I whined, trying not to let any tears fall from my eyes. “I’m sorryyyyy. I won’t mess up. Ow. Ow!”

I heard him say something but my mind was concentrating on the pain and wondering if it was close to being over.

Finally he ended with a loud and hardest SMACK! and let me up. I wasn’t in as much of a hurry to cover myself this time as my bottom stung greatly.

“Pull them up and sit down, Amy,” Jeremy commanded. “I want you to feel how much it stings whenever you sit down and think about that next time you neglect to practice.” I did as I was told and winced a bit at the pain I felt.

The next time I did a little better, making only 42 mistakes. I asked if we could make it only 40, so it could be a round number, and he said no, that 50 would be more appropriate. I shut up after that.

We repeated the procedure, my bottom still ablaze from the two previous spankings. This one was short and quick compared to the other two, but my bottom stung like crazy whenever I sat back down on it.

The next time I only earned myself 17 smacks, and how I managed that I have no idea. He emphasized on me how proud he was that I was improving and that if this had to be something we did every lesson than he’d sure do it. I protested by saying, “no that’s okay,” but he only grinned and turned me back over his knee to administer the spanking.

The next time went better and since I only made 5 mistakes he told me that we could skip that spanking and go onto the next round where I tried to see if I could get both the rhythm and the notes right. I tried my damndest, and messed up so badly that I looked at him with pleading eyes.

“See what happens whenever you don’t practice?”

“I-I’m sorry,” I muttered, not wanting to let these tears fall from my eyes. My bottom still stung like crazy and I had let him down so much.

He nodded. “You’ve done well today,” he said. “I didn’t count the number of mistakes you made the last time you played, but it was a good many and you know that. I think that I should send you home with a little reminder of what will happen next week if you aren’t prepared.”

He was going to go on and say more, but I nodded silently.

“Good girl,” he said and I stood up, already accustomed to this. I let my jeans fall to the floor then positioned myself over his lap and clenched my eyes tightly together as he lowered my panties and I could feel the gentle breeze once again. And as like the other times, I was unable to feel the breeze for too long because before I knew it, his large hand came pounding down on my tiny bottom and I squirmed and kicked and he kept spanking and spanking and before too long I began crying like a baby over his lap, too worn out to kick anymore and too ashamed to do anything other than cry. He finished up with two not so hard smacks then let me lie limply over him crying. I felt his hand lying on my warm bottom and he rubbed it to soothe me and get the sting out for me. I reached back to feel the warmth out of instinct.

“Shhhh, shhhh. Amy, it’s okay, honey,” he said, still rubbing my stinging backside.

I nodded softly while I sobbed into the couch cushions. We stayed like that for a few minutes until he said, “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have spanked you so much.”

“No,” I argued. “It’s okay. I deserved it.”

He didn’t seem convinced but in a few minutes I was picking myself up and he was hugging me tightly. I excused myself to the bathroom where I washed my face off then did something I had been wanting to do since the first time that evening he had spanked me. I tugged my pants and panties down and stared at my glowing red bottom. I felt the warmth for a minute then blushed and pulled my pants back up. I washed my face once more then limped outside. Jeremy hugged me tightly again and handed me my instrument that was already in its case then took me home.

“We’ll do the same thing next lesson,” I said, waving goodbye to him. Before he had the time to argue, I opened the door to my house and disappeared inside with a grin on my face.