Samantha had been looking forward to a quiet Saturday. The weather was perfect, the skies were clear, and the course was unusually empty. She had even packed her favorite clubs, now meticulously cleaned, the ones Daphne had “accidentally” knocked over into the sand during their last round, and was ready for a peaceful, distraction-free game.
Of course, that illusion was shattered the moment Daphne hopped into the passenger seat of the golf cart with that mischievous sparkle in her eye. Samantha knew that look. It meant trouble. Delightfully bratty, full-throttle, selectively obedient trouble.
“You’re in a suspiciously good mood,” Samantha said, raising an eyebrow as she adjusted her visor. “You HATE golf.”
Daphne swung her ponytail dramatically and grinned. “I’m just excited to be outside, in nature, bonding with my Miss. Is that so wrong?”
Samantha narrowed her eyes. “It’s not what you said. It’s how you said it. You’re up to something.”
Daphne made a big show of feigning offense. “Moi? Up to something? You wound me.”
Sam gave her a dry look. “You’re not wounded. You’re plotting.”
“Plotting to be the best student you’ve ever had,” Daphne said sweetly, plucking a bottle of water from the cart’s cooler and handing it over like a saint.
Samantha accepted it warily and sniffed the contents. She knew Daphne well enough to recognize a setup when she saw one, but she let it go. The day was too beautiful to ruin with interrogations.
The first few holes went unusually well. Daphne behaved. She carried herself without complaint. She didn’t talk during Samantha’s backswing. She even offered helpful advice, well, helpful if Samantha wanted to aim her drive directly into the sand trap. But it was the effort that counted.
By the seventh hole, Samantha found herself actually enjoying the game. She allowed herself to relax. Maybe, just maybe, Daphne was genuinely going to be good.
That fantasy came to a screeching halt on the last hole.
Samantha stood at the green, eyeing the ball carefully. It was a par-4, and she had played it beautifully. Three shots so far, and her ball sat six inches from the hole. Just six. It was the kind of putt even a Daphne could make.
She lined up her shot, took a breath, and just as her club began its final tap…
BWAAAAAAP!
The airhorn’s blast shattered the silence like a cannon going off in a library.
Samantha’s putt-club jolted mid-swing. The ball jerked left and shot twenty feet past the hole like it was trying to escape the crime scene.
There was a moment of stillness. Birds fled from the trees. A dog barked from across the parkway. Samantha, frozen in her follow-through, slowly turned to look at her gleeful, unrepentant pet.
The other people present were standing, mouths agog, eyes wide. One girl tittered, and suddenly, everyone (except Sam) was rolling with laughter.
Daphne stood holding a miniature bright red airhorn in both hands, grinning like she’d just discovered a new species of mischief.
“Oops,” she said, not sounding remotely sorry. “It went off by accident.”
Samantha’s lips pressed into a line. “Accident, Daphne?”
“Yes?”
“Where did you even get that?”
“The internet is a magical place.”
Samantha took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “You waited eighteen holes to do that, didn’t you?”
“Yup!”
“You plotted.”
“I planned.”
“You knew I’d be annoyed.”
“I hoped you’d be annoyed.”
“And why,” Samantha asked, advancing slowly, “would you want to annoy me?”
Daphne backed away with a giggle, clutching the airhorn like a shield. “Because an annoyed Sam is a fun Sam.”
Samantha reached her. Daphne squealed and ran, but not too fast. The golf cart wasn’t far, and she half-heartedly dodged behind it, peeking over the edge with playful eyes.
Samantha folded her arms. “You do realize that the punishment will be worse now, right?”
“Oh, no,” Daphne said, voice trembling with exaggerated dread. “Not a spanking. Anything but a spanking. Whatever shall I do?”
“You’ll do exactly what I say.” Samantha sat on the edge of the cart seat and patted her lap.
Daphne’s eyes sparkled. She gave a tiny mock gasp, then slowly, very slowly, stepped forward.
“Skirt up,” Samantha instructed, voice even.
“Yes, Miss.” Daphne obeyed without hesitation, lifting the hem of her little skort and folding herself over Samantha’s knees, presenting her backside like it was a gift.
Sam shook her head in mock dismay. “You really are insatiable.”
“It’s a problem,” Daphne said into her arms, clearly grinning.
Samantha placed her hand on the girl’s backside and gave it a gentle rub. “Let’s see if I can help you with that.”
She started slowly, the first few swats light, almost playful. Daphne wriggled but didn’t protest. The rhythm was steady, measured, and warm.
The other golfers couldn’t believe it.
Smack. “That was for hole seven. You told me the wind was going west when it was going east.”
Smack. “Hole nine. You ‘accidentally’ stepped on my ball.”
Smack, smack. “And holes eleven through fifteen, you sang the ‘Happy Gilmore’ theme under your breath every time I tried to drive.”
Daphne giggled into her arms. “I was being supportive! And Cayla told me too on SI.”
“You were being a gremlin,” Samantha said affectionately.
She paused, then delivered a firm double-swat that made Daphne gasp.
“And that,” she said, “was for the airhorn.”
Daphne whimpered, but it was entirely theatrical. Her toes curled slightly, and she let out a happy sigh.
She pushed her off her lap and told her, “Wait till I get you home.”
At home, Samantha took her time with the real spanking. It was given to a naked Daphne over the knee with her favorite hairbrush.
The swats were as hard as true punishment, but with plenty of foreplay, it was just what Daphne craved.
The G-spot toy buzzing away, the touches from Sam, and the brilliant flaming spots on her bottom all contributed to a massive orgasm.
“Feel better?”
“Mmhm.”
“You going to behave next time?”
“Define ‘behave.’”
Samantha rolled her eyes and helped Daphne sit up. She settled onto Samantha’s lap, wriggling slightly and smiling up at her.
“I love you, you know,” Daphne said softly.
“I know,” Samantha replied, brushing a strand of hair from her face. “And I love you too, you chaotic little goblin.”
They sat like that for a long moment, listening to the sounds of silence. It was peaceful again. Not because Daphne had behaved, but because balance had been restored.
“Next time,” Samantha said, “I’m checking your bag before we tee off.”
“Good luck,” Daphne said with a grin. “I’ve got hiding places you don’t even know about.”
“Oh, I will find them. And when I do…”
Daphne shivered playfully. “Promises, promises.”
They both laughed, the sound drifting out across the lawn. And somewhere, perhaps in fear, a squirrel ran for cover.
Afterwards, Sam took Daphne for ice cream.
I COULD tell y’all about the details about sex with Sam or the really hard real hairbrush spanking, but I’m sure nobody is interested in THAT.
