Spanking My University Tenant

Catalina was an 18-year-old girl, fresh out of high school, with a lifelong dream of studying Law. Unfortunately (or perhaps fortunately), her small hometown had no universities, so she had to move to my city—a bustling, vibrant place whose name doesn’t matter for this story.

I lived in a cozy apartment near the best university in the city, a place I’d called home for years. Since I lived alone and had a spare room, I decided to rent it out to help with expenses and maybe keep things a bit livelier around the house.

The first time I met Catalina, I was completely taken aback. She was stunning in a way that caught me off guard. Her skin was pale, almost like porcelain, glowing softly under the sunlight that streamed through the window. She was petite, barely reaching 5 feet tall, with a delicate frame that made her seem almost doll-like. Her hair, a striking shade of electric blue, was tied up in a messy bun, a bold choice that I found oddly charming and curious.

She wore a fitted green athletic shirt that hugged her figure, accentuating her breasts—not too large, not too small, but perfectly proportioned for her small frame. Below that, she had on a pair of tight blue jeans that fit her like they were custom-made, hugging every curve and drawing my eyes straight to her round, firm little backside that looked impossibly perfect in the snug denim.

The first few weeks were calm and pleasant. Catalina was sweet and polite, with a shy smile that made her seem even younger than she was. One day, she suggested that she could cook for us if I bought the groceries. It sounded like a great deal—home-cooked meals were a rarity for me. So, I agreed, and soon enough, we were sharing breakfast, lunch, and dinner together almost every day.

Sitting across from her at the small kitchen table, laughing over her stories about her hometown or her excitement about starting university, I started to grow fond of her. She had this infectious energy, a mix of innocence and curiosity, that made our little shared space feel warmer, more like a home.

But things started to change after a while. Slowly, almost imperceptibly at first. Catalina began taking longer to respond to my messages, and when she did, her replies were short and curt, lacking the warmth they once had. She started coming home later and later, sometimes slipping in well past midnight. I’d hear the soft creak of the door and her quiet footsteps as she tried not to wake me.

I didn’t say anything at first—I figured she was just adjusting to city life, making friends, exploring her new freedom as a university student. But I couldn’t shake the feeling that something was off.

Then, one night, everything came to a head.

It was around 2 a.m. when I heard the front door rattle softly, followed by the clumsy shuffle of footsteps. Catalina was trying to sneak in quietly, but she was clearly struggling. I was already awake, lying in bed, when I heard a loud crash from the kitchen—a pot clattering to the floor, followed by a stifled giggle.

“Cata, what’s going on? Why are you making so much noise?” I called out, rolling out of bed and heading toward the kitchen.

“S-sorry!” she slurred, her voice light and giggly as she stumbled slightly, her head bowed. She tried to scurry toward her room, but I wasn’t having it.

“Where do you think you’re going, young lady?” I said, my voice firm as I gently grabbed her arm, turning her to face me.

That’s when I saw it—her eyes were bloodshot, glassy, and unfocused. Her cheeks were flushed, and she swayed slightly as she stood there, a sheepish grin on her face. She was high, or drunk, or both. My heart sank, but anger quickly took over.

“What’s wrong with you? Who do you think you are?” she snapped, yanking her arm back, her voice slurring as she tried to sound defiant. “Let me go!”

“No, young lady,” I said, my grip firm but careful. “You think you can stumble in here at all hours of the night, clearly out of it, and there won’t be consequences?”

“I’m not… I’m not drunk,” she mumbled, avoiding my gaze, tugging harder to free herself.

I wasn’t buying it. Her red eyes, the way her words stumbled over each other—it was obvious. “You’re not going to lie to me, Catalina,” I said, my voice low and serious. “And you’re not going to keep putting yourself in danger like this. Tonight, you’re going to learn two things: one, you don’t lie to me, and two, you’re never doing this again.”

I cared about her—too much to let her spiral like this. Before she could protest further, I scooped her up, her small frame light in my arms, and carried her to my room. She squirmed and giggled, clearly not grasping the gravity of the situation.

“Let me go! What are you doing? Are you crazy?” she laughed, her voice a mix of confusion and amusement.

“I’m doing what your parents should’ve done a long time ago,” I said, my tone stern as I laid her across my lap on the edge of the bed.

Her laughter stopped abruptly as I delivered two firm spanks over the seat of her tight blue jeans. The denim offered some protection, but the impact still made her jolt.

“Ow! W-what are you doing?” she gasped, her voice trembling as the reality sank in.

“You’re not coming home like this again, understood?” I said, pulling her closer and giving her three more sharp spanks across the denim-covered backside. She yelped, squirming in my lap.

“What’s wrong with you? Stop it!” she cried, her voice rising as I unbuttoned her jeans and tugged them down to her knees, revealing a white thong that caught me completely off guard. For someone I still saw as almost a kid, it felt wildly inappropriate—and it only fueled my frustration.

Her pale, perfect cheeks jiggled with each firm spank I gave her now on the thin fabric of her thong, and I didn’t hold back.

“I’m sorry! I swear, I’m sorry! I won’t do it again, just stop!” she pleaded, her voice cracking as tears welled up in her big brown eyes.

“Do you promise?” I asked, delivering ten more hard spanks, each one making her squirm and cry out louder. Her legs kicked wildly, the jeans bunched at her knees restricting her movement as her small body writhed and she gripped the bedsheets.

“Yes! Yes, I promise! Please, stop!” she sobbed, her voice breaking as she pataled like a child.

“Alright, princess, it’s over,” I said softly, my anger giving way to tenderness. I wiped the tears from her flushed cheeks, then gently rubbed her sore backside, trying to soothe her. She flinched at first, then relaxed slightly, her eyes fluttering shut as she let out a shaky breath.

“Please… no more,” she whispered, her voice small and vulnerable.

“It’s okay, sweetheart. It’s over,” I said, kissing her cheek softly. I pulled her thong back into place, then carefully pulled her jeans back up over her tender bottom, buttoning them for her. She winced as the tight denim settled against her skin again.

I helped her sit beside me on the bed. She looked up at me with those big, teary eyes, and my heart melted.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered, her voice barely audible.

I pulled her into a hug, kissing her forehead gently. “It’s okay, Cata. Just don’t do it again.”

She melted into the embrace, her small arms wrapping around me. “I’m so tired,” she murmured, her voice soft and childlike, the effects of the night still lingering.

“Let’s get you to bed, princess,” I said. I laid her down gently, then grabbed her pajamas from her room—soft cotton set with little stars on it.

I sat her up and carefully lifted her green shirt over her head. She blushed furiously but didn’t protest. I slipped the pajama top on, then gently unbuttoned her jeans again and slid them off. She hesitated when I reached for her thong, her hands instinctively grabbing mine, but a firm look from me made her let go, knowing resistance would only make things worse.

I couldn’t help but notice that her intimate area hadn’t been shaved in a while, another sign of how this new lifestyle was changing her.

I helped her into the pajama shorts, tucked her in, and kissed her forehead one last time. Her eyes fluttered shut, and within moments, she was fast asleep, looking peaceful and innocent again, like the girl who’d first walked into my apartment with her blue hair and shy smile.