We all know people like this. They simply can’t handle money, are constantly tempted to make impulse purchases and are actually always broke. Women in particular fall into this category. Young women who want to enjoy life, are constantly buying new clothes and really only have one goal in life: to find a wealthy man who can finance the life they can’t really afford themselves.

The daughter of a long-time friend comes to mind. When it came to setting the course for her future life, she began to study music. Music was just her thing and she dreamed of making it big as a pianist one day. She only learned later that music is an unprofitable art. She only realized that very few people can really make a living from it when she found herself in a very modest lifestyle and had to earn her meagre income by giving piano lessons.

Of course, there wasn’t enough money to go around and as soon as an unforeseen expense arose, the girl was left high and dry. Whereby girl was actually more a description of her appearance, because she was a petite thing with a size S dress. But when I met her, she was already 27 years old. An age at which you’re supposed to have grown up and found your place in life.

However, that didn’t seem to be the case with her. She had not yet managed to get more than a tiny attic apartment. She couldn’t even think about having her own car. Her love life was a series of bad decisions, because she always seemed to end up with guys who were just like her. But there was nothing she needed more than an established man who had a really good job, earned good money and was prepared to take her as his wife and finance her for life.

Until he came along, she had to find other ways to get money. As practically all her friends were also musicians and were struggling themselves, it was often her mother who had to act as a source of money. She also knew when her daughter was on the phone that there was another bill she couldn’t pay, or she was so broke that she had a problem even at the supermarket checkout. The conversations then regularly developed into heated arguments between mother and daughter, with lots of swearing and even more crying. But in the end, the money came in and the little girl was happy for the time being.

As this mother was my best friend, I naturally witnessed the whole drama first hand. Of course, I kept telling her that you can’t solve a problem by just fixing the symptoms. But it didn’t really do any good. On the contrary. As long as the source of money didn’t dry up, the eternal daughter seemed happy to come back to it, even if she had to endure an unpleasant conversation first. I actually found the girl very pretty myself. But I was also convinced that she not only needed a man to give her stability in life, but also someone who knew how to guide her with a firm hand.

At some point, the mother obviously got increasingly annoyed at being constantly pumped. Presumably due to my influence, she became increasingly tight-lipped and even ended the odd phone call without handing over the requested amount of money. I don’t know how the unfit daughter survived. But I had a sneaking suspicion that I would soon become part of this game.

And I was proved right. The little girl had already occasionally suggested that her mother should pump me. After all, I was a man with money. I would live in a fancy apartment, drive a great car and go on vacation at least three times a year. There must be something to be gained.

My friend told me about it, but she never asked me for money. One day, her daughter did it herself. I had already helped her move several times when my nice big station wagon was needed. And I had already met her at one birthday party or another. So she knew me and, as I said, in my eyes she was a little girl who somehow didn’t want to grow up but was seductively good-looking.

I was happy to help when I could. I had already supported her to the best of my ability. For example, I not only created the website for her small music school, but also the entire associated web marketing. Things that a musician had no idea about and without which no freelancer can survive on the market today.

I was also prepared to help her this time. But not by simply handing her money, but by supporting her in getting her life under control. In other words, I didn’t want to become her financial backer, but her coach. So I first transferred her the amount she currently needed to survive, but made it clear to her that this was only a loan. And I made it dependent on her agreement that we would sit down together on one of the following days and she would reveal her entire financial situation to me.

„If you want me to help you, I first need to understand your situation. And I need to know everything about you, about your money, your debts, your life, your work, everything,“ was my statement. „Then we’ll work together to turn your life around so that you never have to beg for money again.“

Of course, she wasn’t thrilled and would have preferred to carry on muddling along as before. She also seemed embarrassed to put the facts of her failed life on the table for me of all people. But she probably sensed that the game with me wouldn’t continue the way she had played it with her mother for a long time. She seemed to have respect for me, which was no wonder as I was more than twice her age and could well be the father she had unfortunately never had. So she gave in and I visited her in her apartment one day.

She greeted me with a slightly embarrassed smile and already had all the documents ready. So I looked through her collection of invoices, contracts and bank statements, opened the notebook to enter everything into a spreadsheet and then knew exactly what the problem was. Or rather, the problems.

Her bank statements only showed income from the students with whom she had a proper contract and who paid her monthly lesson fees. However, a considerable part of her piano lessons were paid in cash and, as is the case with cash, these bills disappeared somehow and somewhere without her being able to say exactly what she had spent the money on.

„For this sloppiness alone, you should be put over your knee,“ I said dryly and she looked down guiltily.

Over the course of the afternoon, however, I learned even more. For example, that she only worked in the afternoons and spent her nights in jazz clubs and pubs where she met up with other musicians in the city. But then she slept in the mornings so that she was fit again when the first pupil rang the bell.

In other words, my little musician led a pretty relaxed life, actually only working half a day and spending the rest of the time having fun and lazing around.

I decided to take a methodical approach. The girl didn’t just need someone to get her out of her messy situation. She needed a man who could guide her with a firm hand and finally turn her from a carefree teenager into a grown woman. And if anyone was suitable, it was me.

So I explained my plan to her: I would first take over her apartment rent so that she had enough financial leeway to pay peur a peut all the outstanding bills that were piling up on the table. But I wouldn’t just give her the money, she would have to pay me back as soon as she got her finances in order. To make things even more exciting, I made her sign a real contract with all the demands she had to fulfill.

And they were not without them.

First of all, I demanded a detailed explanation from her for every single euro she spent from then on. A purchase at the supermarket, a quick pizza at Vapiano, a drink with friends – I demanded an account of every single expenditure, no matter how small. I wanted her to be aware of what she was spending her money on and I wanted to determine what was necessary and what was not.

Online shopping was taboo for the time being, no matter how great the shoes looked.

Much more important, however, was the question of what she should do with all the time she was currently wasting pointlessly. I realized that her students were mostly teenagers who could only come to class after school. But it just didn’t make sense to pursue a leisurely part-time job when there wasn’t enough income to go around. So I forced her to look for some kind of mini-job to earn at least a few hundred euros extra. I didn’t care whether she was cleaning, distributing leaflets or stocking shelves in the supermarket. I just wanted her to have more money in her hand, not to spend it, but to put it aside. A freelancer like her should have at least the equivalent of six months‘ working time on the side to be able to bridge a slump in sales or an illness.

„I will visit you once a month from now on. You will then report to me exactly what you have done with your money. And I advise you to really do everything you can to make me happy with you. Because if I’m not, you’ll regret it deeply.“

I gave the petite but almost thirty-year-old woman a firm hug, patted her bottom paternally and left her with her head bowed and a thoughtful expression on her face.

My next visit went exactly as I had expected. We spent a good hour neatly entering her income for the month in a spreadsheet and calculating the expenses against it. I already had my first reason to reprimand her. Of course, she had spent far too much time in clubs and cafés again. And there was a three-figure sum that she had no explanation for. The worst thing, however, was that she hadn’t really made a serious effort to find an additional job. On the contrary, she made a thousand excuses as to why she couldn’t be expected to do this work and why it didn’t fit in with her daily routine.

„It doesn’t matter whether you like it or not,“ I hissed at her: „By the end of the year, you won’t just have a tidy sum on the high side. You’ll also be free of debt. And you’ll have learned how to manage money so that your income will last until the end of the month.“

I was a kind of father figure to her and the fact that I was living with her mother made her wary of me. But the first month of restrictions had probably been a hard time for her, even if she hadn’t reached her goal by a long way. So she nagged, moaned about the difficult life of a musician and described to me the thousand problems that made up her life.

Until I said: „Stop! Stop it now! I don’t want to hear any more of your whining. You’ve decided to be a musician, so make something of it. Work hard and think about how you can turn your skills into money. Don’t hang around wallowing in self-pity, get up and do something with your life.“

But that seemed to get her going even more. She scolded her mother for not supporting her. She railed against her colleagues, who weren’t really musicians but were just chasing after commerce. She blamed everyone for the fact that she had to make a living as a piano teacher, even though she had much more to offer than teaching some kids from rich parents how to play the piano. But above all, my demands were simply too high. She didn’t want to turn over every penny and she needed her little pleasures to make her life bearable.

In other words, she wanted me to help her, but she didn’t want to do anything in return. She wanted me to support her, but she didn’t even think about getting back on her feet herself, let alone paying back the money she borrowed. I want everything to be different, but I want it to stay the way it is.

That was the moment when I decided to live out my role as a father figure and show her how a real father goes about bringing an unruly daughter to her senses.

„Get up,“ I said to her after I had risen from my chair myself. She was probably too perplexed to react in any other way and followed my instructions.

„Take off your panties.“

An older man and a young woman in the same room. There was obviously only one conclusion for her. Her facial expression changed to a lascivious grin as she first hesitated for a long time in a challenging manner and then slowly reached under the hem of her light summer dress to get out of her black panties a little later. Of course, a man who pays a woman’s rent wants her to let him fuck her. After all, that’s what all men want and the younger she is, the better.

I grabbed her by the hand and pulled her behind me towards the bedroom, which was at the back of the apartment. The room was untidy. There were clothes everywhere. The bed was rumpled. I put my left leg on the edge of the bed and pulled her towards me with an energetic grip. She was a flyweight and it was easy to put her over my knee. I kept a firm grip on her with my left hand while I lifted her dress with my right. I let it fall far down her back, exposing her slim body up to more than her belly button.

She had a small bottom, which I hadn’t expected otherwise. But only now did it become clear that it was also a strikingly pretty bottom. Her buttocks were rounded in a feminine way and gaped slightly apart as she bent over my knee. A young woman who was just dying for a good spanking.

I didn’t say another word, but immediately went down on her. My flat right hand swept down on her and soon a steady, loud clapping sound filled the room. The sound of a young thing getting her bare bottom spanked. She let out small, sharp cries and made every effort to free herself from my grip, which of course she didn’t succeed in doing. She kicked her legs wildly, but only succeeded in widening my field of action and some of the blows hit her on the inside of her thighs, to which she responded with a particularly shrill reaction.

If at first her flesh still had that delicate, light coloring typical of the areas of skin that were constantly protected from the light of the sun, her two globes soon turned an angry, glowing red that left no doubt that I had turned her bottom into a sea of burning flames.

I had no idea how many blows she had finally received. But enough is enough and so I put her back on her feet, whereupon her skirt fell back into place and she began to pound me with both fists and howl unrestrainedly.

„I’ve agreed to help you out of your mess. I’ll even pay your rent so that you have a chance of getting back on the green light. But you’re not going to complain about your lot. You’ll do exactly what I tell you. And if you don’t, then that was just a taste of what you’re in for.“

She stood in front of me like a chastised little girl and looked down at herself in embarrassment.

„Did you hear me?“

She nodded silently. I hugged her tightly and stroked her head.

„Then we’ll meet again in a month and I expect you to have done exactly what we agreed by then.“

I turned away from her, packed up my notebook in the living room, hung my messenger bag around my neck and left the apartment without a word.

I knew that this was just the beginning.