I’m re-reading “Glory Road” by Robert Heinlein, and I’ve got as far as this snippet, which gave me a few happy moments when I was a teenager with no spanking stories to read.

The hero has just committed a cultural faux-pas, and the heroine is rather upset about it:

In a low almost passionless voice she began chewing me out:

“You hero. You incredible butter-brained dolt. Clumsy, bumbling, loutish, pimple-peeked, underdone, over-muscled, idiotic–”

“Stop it!”

“Quiet, I am not finished with you. Insulting three innocent ladies offending a staunch–”

“SHUT UP!!!”

The blast blew her hair back. I started in before she could rev up again. “Don’t ever again speak to me that way. Star. Never.”

“But–”

“Hold your tongue, you bad-tempered brat! You have not earned the right to speak to me that way. Nor will any girl ever earn the right. You will always–always!–address me politely and with respect. One more word of your nasty rudeness and I’ll spank you until the tears fly.”

“You wouldn’t dare!”

“Get your hand away from that sword or I’ll take it away from you, down your pants right here on the road, and spank you with it. Till your arse is red and you beg for mercy. Star, I do not fight females–but I do punish naughty children. Ladies I treat as ladies. Spoiled brats I treat as spoiled brats. Star, you could be the Queen of England and the Galactic Overlord all rolled into one–but ONE MORE WORD out of line from you, and down come your tights and you won’t be able to sit for a week. Understand me?”

At last she said in a small voice, “I understand, milord.”

Now, he’s behaving like a dick, of course. But does it make this passage any less thrilling? Mmm, no.