It’s DD’s birthday! And for her birthday I wrote her a little something with her favorite character from the Rigel series and she was generous enough to allow me to share it with everybody. So here you go, a little word cake for DD’s birthday!
Class with Tank
It was a late Novemberish morning and Tank was at the gym as usual. She’d worked at the gym for as long as she could remember and she’d used it for even longer than that. Every single one of those many days showed in her strong, toned, broad shouldered physique. Though there was undeniable bulk to her frame, Tank was pretty in her own way. Short blonde hair was cropped close to her head, framing kind blue eyes and a gentle smile. She did not wear an abundance of makeup and her clothes were simple. It was an attempt to be unassuming. It didn’t work. Even without typical feminine trappings, she was eye catching.
Ding! Ding! Ding!
The repetitive slamming of the front counter bell drew Tank out of the office. The early gym goers had already settled into their workouts. She hoped it wasn’t one of them banging at the bell as if the place were on fire. If it was, stern words would have to be had.
As it turned out, it was not one of the regulars bashing away at the bell. It was a stranger, a smiling young lady batting at the little nubbin atop the bell with all the enthusiasm of a kitten.
Tank reached out and put her large hand over the bell just before it could be rung again. Unfortunately, the woman’s hand was in motion. She quite accidentally rapped Tank over the knuckles with the flat of her palm, then squeaked and colored at her mistake.
“It’s okay,” Tank said. “Can I help you?”
“Yes. I mean, I hope yes. Probably yes,” the young lady at the counter beamed. “I came here because I wanted to work out, not work too hard, just you know, exercise a bit because I think exercise is important because when you exercise you feel better, right? And if you feel better then you look better, maybe not look better, but I think you feel better when you feel better. I exercised once or twice before, but I think that this gym, being a gym will really, you know, be good because it’s a woman’s gym and a woman’s gym is for women, and I am a woman so…”
Tank held up a hand to stop the flow of words, her lips twisting in a smile. “So you’d like to join?”
“Oh yes,” the young lady said. “I’m ready to join, I mean, make a commitment. Because commitment is important in life. Some people are afraid of commitments, but I figure if you can’t make a commitment to other people then you can’t really commit to yourself, you know?”
“I do know,” Tank said, sliding the requisite forms across the counter. “Just fill out the form and you can start a thirty day trial.”
“A thirty day trial. A whole month. I’ll come every day. Maybe not every day. I’ll come every other day. Or maybe other every day. Hah. That makes no sense,” the young woman happily babbled to herself as she filled out the form.
Tank watched with an indulgent smile on her face. The girl was cute, with a closely shorn haircut that was almost boyish but closer to Sinead O’Connor’s style back in the 90’s. She had a sweet smile and a pretty face too.
Tank hadn’t missed the younger woman’s somewhat admiring gaze, nor had she missed the fact that the new client was wearing men’s sweatpants and a man’s t-shirt. There was nothing cuter than a baby-dyke in Tank’s opinion. She would have reached out and squeezed the young woman’s cheeks if it hadn’t been entirely unprofessional.
“There,” the girl said, pushing the form back over. “I think that’s all the information you need.”
Picking up the form, Tank glanced at the name. “Claude,” she said. “May I call you Claude?”
“You can call me whatever you like,” Claude said. “But then I might not know you were talking to me, so maybe yes, call me Claude.”
“Okay, I’ll show you how the machines work.”
“How the machines work!” Claude chattered as Tank lead her into the gym proper. “I don’t need to know how they work. I mean, on the inside. I mean, the electronics. I once took apart a clock radio, looking for the lady inside. But there was no lady, there was just a lot of wires and one of them sparked and then there were holes in my bed… ow!”
Tank turned to see Claude hopping from foot to foot, clutching at her hand. She had evidently walked into a weight machine and her fingers were slightly the worse for wear as a result.
“Oh dear,” Tank said, reaching for her wrist. “Let me see.”
“It’s okay,” Claude said. “It doesn’t hurt.” She hid her hand behind her back and gave Tank a sheepish look.
“Only a little bit. It doesn’t matter. I have quite a lot of blood in my body. I could probably bleed for… well… I reckon I could probably bleed for two or three months and be okay, so don’t worry because I’m not bleeding very much and…”
“Claude, please.” Tank’s brows dipped into something of a straight line. All of a sudden the gentle, tall woman looked very stern.
Reluctantly, Claude held out her hand. Two of her fingers were scratched and already beginning to bruise. Blood was oozing slowly from the wound. Tank held Claude’s wrist gently and tutted to herself.
“We’ll need to put some salve on these. Come on.”
“Come on,” Claude repeated to herself. “Yes come on, we will salve it.”
Tank managed to avoid chuckling. This Claude was cute, if not entirely spatially aware. All that chatter probably took up a lot of her mental energy.
She lead Claude to her office, where a first aid kit was stashed in the desk. Claude lurked near the door, apparently nervous to enter the hallowed realms of Tank’s office.
“Come here,” Tank said, crooking her finger. The only visible effect the motion had was making Claude blush.
When repeated entreaties were likewise met with a distinct lack of movement, Tank reached out, took Claude by the good hand and lead her into the room.
“Do you always have trouble following simple instructions?” She made the inquiry gently as she went through the First Aid kit.
“Sometimes I do, I mean, instructions. What do they mean? Not the same thing to everybody, definitely, definitely not the same thing because words don’t necessarily mean the same things to different people because everybody has a different…”
Whilst Claude spoke, she was shuffling backward toward the door. It wasn’t clear why, she certainly looked flushed. Perhaps she was nervous.
Sighing to herself at the realization she was probably going to have to slow-chase Claude around the gym if the girl was left to her own devices, Tank left the kit, went over to Claude, placed her hands on Claude’s hips and physically lifted her first into the room, thence into a sitting position on the desk. She tapped the door closed with her foot and stood in front of her client.
“Can you sit still whilst I clean those cuts? Or do you have ants in your pants?”
“Haha! Ants in my pants! No, I don’t have ants in my pants. I have spiders in my eye-ders though, did you know there are little spider mites in your eyes?” Claude chattered away at even higher speed. Though she’d denied the ants in her pants, there was no denying the way she was squirming.
“Is that so?” Tank said, pulling out some salve. “Hold your hand out.”
Claude held her hand out obediently. Tank leaned against the desk next to Claude and wrapped an arm around the extended limb. She put a hand underneath Claude’s wrist, stabilizing it. Next to her, Claude had stopped talking. She seemed to be holding her breath.
“Relax,” Tank soothed. “This might sting a little, but it won’t hurt.”
With a gentle, sure touch she began dabbing the salve on Claude’s fingers. To Claude’s credit, she didn’t move much at all. She didn’t speak either. Perhaps she had finally run out of words, or perhaps she was enthralled by the way Tank’s sure fingers moved over her skin. At any rate, Tank soon wrapped sticking plasters around the affected digits. She finished her ministrations with a quick kiss to Claude’s cheek. The resulting blush was so bright it made the young woman light up like a Christmas tree.
“There you go,” she said. “All better.”
“Thank you,” Claude said, hopping down off the table. She was suddenly quite unable to make her earlier eye-contact.
“Are you alright?”
“Yes,” Claude said. “Quite alright. Very alright. Much, yes, thank you.” She beamed at the ground.
“Let’s go check out the machines,” Tank said. “Maybe this time keep your hands away from moving equipment.” She landed her fingertips against Claude’s sweatpant clad bottom in a light swat.
It was an innocent enough gesture, but it had the opposite effect to the one intended. Instead of sending Claude off toward the machines, it made her stop in her tracks.
“Are you alright?”
“Mhm. Yes. Yes. Alright.” Claude said. She looked up at Tank, a mischievous expression on her face. “Maybe I am afraid of the machines now. One of them did bite me!”
She’d only known this girl a few minutes, but Tank had a pretty good read on this cute little dyke. Claude wasn’t hanging about because she was nervous to go back out on the floor. She was hanging about because she was enjoying the attention.
“Am I going to have to smack your bottom out to the machines?”
Claude’s face performed its special blushing effect and Tank knew she had this girl nailed.
“Well, am I?” She put a little bit of a sterner note into her voice.
“Uhm, well, no. Only if you want to.”
“Only if I want to?” Tank raised a brow and shook her head slightly. “You think I might want to smack this cute little ass of yours?” She reached out and ran her palm over Claude’s buttocks. They felt good in her hand, soft and round and ready to spank. “Perhaps you deserve a spanking?”
“I don’t think I deserve a spanking as in I was bad or anything,” Claude began saying, “but I think that sometimes it can maybe be nice if… hey!”
She broke off the chatter as she was lifted once more in Tank’s able arms and put over her broad thigh. Tank had taken a seat on the table, one leg extended lengthways. It provided a sort of see-saw over which a cute dyke could be placed, bottom up, ready for the spanking.
A few gentle pats soon had Claude settling nicely over Tank’s thigh. She wasn’t saying much anymore, but she was making soft sounds that indicated she was enjoying herself.
Tank spanked Claude quite lightly at first, even swats to each cheek. It was a cute backside for sure, but the sweatpants were fairly thick and deprived Tank of the fun of seeing the results of her labors.
Hooking her fingers in the elastic waistband, Tank slowly lowered Claude’s sweatpants to her knees. She chuckled as she did, discovering the bat signal emblazoned across Claude’s yellow panties.
“You think batman might come and save you?” She smoothed her hand over Claude’s cheeks, enjoying the soft jiggle and rise as Claude lifted her hips. Unable to resist, she laid a heavier slap across the center of the girl’s bottom, admiring the way it moved beneath her palm. “You have a butt made for this,” she said, patting Claude’s bottom.
“My butt was made for a lot of things…ow!”
Before Claude could list all the things she could do with her bottom, Tank began spanking her with crisp, swift slaps. It was not an entirely gentle spanking, nor was it at all harsh. It was just enough to warm the young lady’s cheeks, to send tingles shooting through warmed flesh, and to make her hips dance enticingly over Tank’s thigh.
Tank pretended not to notice as a small damp patch appeared below the bat signal. It wouldn’t do to draw attention to it, after all. It certainly would do to touch Claude there, though if her fingers happened to dip that way between slaps then….
A small moan escaped Claude’s lips. Oh they were getting into dangerous territory now. Get a grip, Tank, she lectured herself inwardly. You’re being as bad as Rigel. No sleeping with the clients!
It was difficult to maintain a professional demeanor whilst slapping an adorable behind, but Tank somehow managed to do it. In fact, she was being so professional that she figured it wouldn’t hurt to lower those yellow bat panties just below Claude’s cheeks. It was important, after all, to see that she wasn’t doing any unintentional damage. It was important…
Claude’s bare bottom was absolutely gorgeous. Rosy round cheeks met Tank’s gaze, squirming buns jostling one another for her palm’s attentions. She spanked lightly so as not to cause any great discomfort. One needed very little force on a bare bottom, especially one this sweet and sensitive.
“Have you learned your lesson?” Tank paused, her hand spread across Claude’s bottom.
The answer was a jerk of Claude’s hips and a shake of her head. She wanted more. Much more, but Tank knew it wouldn’t be right to do too much more. With fingertips tracing soft lines over Claude’s heated cheeks, Tank leaned down.
“You haven’t learned your lesson?” She trailed her fingers down the sensitive crevice.
“That’s a pity. I was thinking if you had, we could get coffee some time.”
Claude’s head popped up. “Oh, yes! I have learned my lesson. I’ve learned all my lessons actually, in fact… ow!”
Tank chuckled as she laid another sweet, sharp slap to Claude’s cheeks. “You’ve not learned all your lessons. Not the ones I plan to teach you.”
Claude looked into her eyes and grinned whilst biting her lip. “I’m a really good student.”
“Oh I bet you are.” Tank slid her hand between Claude’s thighs and watched the expression on Claude’s face change from hopeful interest to pure pleasure. “Class is now in session.”