Brandon stood in the corner, nose pressed snugly into the crease. He was naked from the waist down save for his white crew socks. His red "Nike" T-shirt was already almost a size too small and provided him no sense of protection or modesty.
When he had walked in from band practice , he had found his step-mom sitting in the living room surrounded by the stash of dirty magazines he had carefully kept hidden between his mattress and box spring. They were spread around the floor and coffee table, opened to various lurid pictures. People's private parts and private acts forming a carpet of black and white and color photos.
Mom had simply said, "Get you pants off and get into the corner, Brandon. Now!"
He began to stammer a protest, but was cut off. "You seem to like to see naked people, Brandon James. Well, it happens that I like to see naughty young boys naked. And I like to see them with red, paddled behinds the best of all! DON'T YOU DARE ARGUE, BRANDON."
He very quickly complied, shedding his shoes and jeans in a pile. He began to head for the corner but Mom jumped up, spun him by the shoulders to face her, and saying, "Oh no, Mister, these too," she yanked his briefs down. He had quickly half-stumbled out of them as he hurried to get to the corner trying to cover himself with his hands as he went.
Now, he could here Mom upstairs getting her hairbrush. Didn't she realize how big he was now? The thought made him blush as he immediately realized the nature of the offense that was causing his disgrace and he knew that, of course, she knew he was growing up and that she didn't care. Here he was, almost fifteen-years-old and he was being bared and spanked like a little boy!
I am so horny today. My cock and balls are currently encircled by the snuggest cock ring I own and it feels like a hand firmly gripping my privates: Reminding me constantly of their presence and of my need. It feels good to be in this state of heightened, erotic awareness.
It almost feels as though the slightest touch to the underside of my penis would send me over into orgasm, ejecting my seed. I know this is not true. But I also know that, if I were to stroke myself to cumming, it would be intense.
Still I do not want to spoil this wonderful feeling. I will wait and savor.
Paying the Price - A Spanking Story (F/m) - repost
I
wrote this story about 8 years ago and posted it on a newsgroup. Since
then, I lost the original text file and thought it was gone. Then I
found it still floating about the internet.
I am happy to post it here (with its original preface). I feel it is
one of the best stories I have written and hope you like it too.
Paying the Price
From: Colt
A couple of notes about the story: I don't know why I
decided to let some racial overtones into the story. Certainly it is
not central to the plot. However, it seems to add a little difference -
a little tension - that wouldn't be there if I took it out.
Also, I have never been able to come up with a name for this story that satisfies me.
Of course, this story is purely fiction blah blah
blah. I hope you enjoy it and I am anxious to receive comments about
it. I don't often get time to sit down and write, but hope to do more
before too long. Feedback, good and bad - so long as it is
constructive, helps the writing process.
_____________________________
Paying The Price
I) Caught in The Act:
"Just what do you think you are doing, Paul", Nina's voice was sharp with anger.
Paul had had his back to the door and was startled by her
outburst. He shot straight up from his kneeling position beside her
purse turning to face her has he did so. The $20.00 bill hung from his
right hand. "I wasn't taking it. I was just borrowing it for
tonight", he blurted. "When I get paid tomorrow, I was gonna put it
back." This was true, but Paul didn't think that it would get him off
the hook even if Nina believed him.
When Paul Scoffeld had landed a summer job in Durbin,
twenty miles east of his home in Milestone, he had made arrangements
to stay in Durbin with his mother's good friend Janina Baker. Paul's
mother and Nina had worked in the same office since Paul could
remember and the two had always been close despite their difference in
race.
Nina was a tall, slim black woman in her forties. Her
forehead and cheekbones were high, her eyes quick and intelligent. Her
bearing was always one of dignity and confidence.
Nina's home, a large, old, two-story frame affair, had
been her parent's; and, since she was divorced and her son, Raymond,
away at college, there was lots of extra space. She had agreed to
"rent" Paul a room for a nominal fee.
At 17, Paul had been eager to leave home for the summer
and try being, more or less, on his own. He was sure he could handle
it despite his mother's constant fretting and nagging about the way he
handled money. She was so sure that he wouldn't properly budget his
earnings that she had told Nina not to loan him "so much as a thin
dime" if he ran out of funds between paychecks. Well, her fears had
been justified it seemed. He had come up short by one day and he had
intended to take Cheryl out to the movies that night.
"Explain yourself." Janina's voice had regained its usual air of poise.
So Paul did. He realized that he was making a real mess
of it; stammering and blushing as he went. His longish, blonde hair
bobbing over his forehead as he spoke. He ended up by explaining that
he would be paid first thing in the morning and would be able to take a
few minutes off to drop her money at the house by 10:00.
He finished and Nina made no reply. The big old clock in
the corner ticked. The house creaked. The wind softly blew outside. To
Paul, everything seamed to be stopping.
How could this be happening? He had waited until Nina had
gone for her morning jog. This morning, she must have come back for
something.
"I really was gonna give it back. I wasn't stealing it." His words were swallowed up in the vastness of that silence.
Finally, she spoke: "You were taking it without my
knowledge, Paul. You were stealing. This isn't how your mother raised
you is it?" Her voice remained low and calm.
Paul shook his head, looked at his feet and blushed again.
"What happens to you when you steal?"
Now it was his turn to let the silence build. The answer
was obvious and yet he couldn't say it. He had a feeling that, if he
just delayed it long enough, a miracle would save him. Finally, "Get
punished", he croaked.
"How should you be punished?"
She hadn't wasted any time with that question and Paul
was truly at a loss to answer it. He sure didn't want her telling his
mother because she would make him come home and he'd lose his job.
He shook his head, shrugged his shoulders and stared harder at his feet.
"Has your mother ever caught you stealing anything?"
A lump had formed in his throat. He nodded.
"What?"
He tried to speak but found that he had to swallow around
that lump before sound would come out. "I lifted some stuff from a
store a few years ago and she found out."
She waited for him to continue and when he didn't: "And
what happened?" she prompted. That calm, persistent voice just kept
asking the questions that Paul didn't want to answer.
"She made me take the stuff back.," he said; and as
silence fell around him again, he knew that a more complete answer was
required of him. Finally he finished, "And when I got home, she
spanked me."
Janina was still in no hurry and she let Paul stew for
several long seconds before she spoke. "She told me that she draped
you over her lap without so much as a stitch and paddled the daylights
out of your little, round heinie with a hairbrush. Is that right?"
This time, Paul didn't have to answer. His burning, red face said it all.
"How old were you then, Paul?"
Gulping again, he replied, "About 13."
"You must have thought you were pretty big by that age. A little too big to be spanked by you mother."
"I thought I was, but I was wrong," he croaked dryly. And Paul remembered just how wrong he had been.
Upon his return home, his mother had announced that this
time he was "going to learn what it means to take a blistering". Paul
had tried to placate her by arguing that he was too old to be spanked.
Before he knew what was happening, she had jumped up, pulled him over
the arm of the sofa and started smacking the seat of his jeans hard
and fast with her bare hand. It hurt considerably and she didn't stop
immediately when he started saying, "All right. All right! OK!!". In
fact, she kept right on until he was squirming and on the brink of
tears.
Finally, she stopped and asked him if he still thought he
was too High and Mighty to have his backside blistered. He quickly
assured her in a faltering voice that he didn't. She stood him up,
ordered him to go to his room and undress and told him that she'd be
up in a few minutes with the hairbrush.
By the time he had undressed, the fire in his hind
quarters had diminished to a warm glow that was actually quite
pleasant. Paul was beginning to think that his paddling might not be
as bad as he had feared. There had been numerous times in the past
when he had waited in his room for his mother to come and put him
across her knee and spank him by hand; but, until now, the hairbrush
had remained an untested threat. It seamed to Paul that it really
couldn't be that much worse.
He had another problem, though. It had been well over a
year since he had received his last spanking and in that time he had
changed considerably. He was maturing physically and his penis and
balls seemed, to him, to be so very large and pendulous. The thought
of his mother seeing him naked in, what seamed to him, such a
developed state was highly embarrassing; it was also highly
stimulating.
He tried not to think about it. But as he lay on his bed
awaiting his punishment, his right hand kept finding its way down to
the meeting of his legs. His fingers would gently pull the loose skin
of his scrotum and play with the small patch of hair above it. Then
his hand would travel up the length of his hard cock to its tip. Then
he would pull his hand away and try to think about something else once
again. But it was no use. The scary-exciting thought of his mother
seeing him mixed with the soft, warm glow in his backside was too
much!
His index finger was lazily doing circle-eights around
his balls when his mother walked in with the hairbrush. He immediately
stood up when she entered and tried to cover himself with his hands.
"I had hoped that you would use this time to consider
what it means to be a thief and the serious nature your crimes," his
mother said, her tone one that could cut flesh. "But, I see you've
occupied your mind in other ways."
With that, she yanked him by the arm to the bed where she
sat down on its side. She didn't force him across her lap so that his
nose ended up next to the carpet as he had expected. Instead, she
spread her legs and pulled him by his arm until he was astride her
left knee. He had still been quite short then and his toes barely
touched the floor. Then, with her left arm, she pulled his torso down
onto the bed at her side, wrapping her arm around his chest and
pinning him to her in the process. In this position, his fully erect
penis was jammed uncomfortably into his belly.
WHACK! WHACK! WHACK!!
The first three swats landed fast and unbelievably hard!
The hairbrush had a 5-inch handle and an oval-shaped head 5 inches
long by 3 wide. Its wood was almost ½-inch thick. Because of Paul's
position, straddling his mother' s knee, the swats landed vertically:
one on each cheek and, the last one, dead center.
Paul let out a bellow of surprise and pain. As he drew in
his breath for an even louder yell, his mother resumed her work. She
spanked hard and fast. As the searing pain of one swat coursed through
his bottom the next was being delivered. Because his position left
him so open, she had a large target area and she used every bit of it.
As he kicked and bucked, she covered him with her
stinging fury from the top of his buttocks to well down his legs and
wasted no small effort on the sides of his ass. He tried kicking both
legs to one side or the other of her knee. But, since he was pinned to
her side, both of these positions just opened up new areas for the
bite of the paddle; and when he spread his legs too wide, she applied
the brush with the same scalding intensity to the inside of his
thighs.
He wanted to tell her he was sorry, to beg her to stop.
But the pain was too great and each spank came too rapidly on the
heels of the one before. He kicked and writhed and squirmed but
couldn't avoid the terrible, searing strokes. He was wailing like a
Banshee. One misplaced lick caught him between the legs on the
underside of his balls and his howls went up an octave. And still she
kept paddling him.
In reality, the whole ordeal probably didn't take much
over 5 minutes. But when it stopped as suddenly as it had begun and
she turned him loose, Paul would have sworn it had lasted hours. He
jumped to his feet, hollering and bawling, clenching his hands to his
inflamed bottom, hopping from one foot to the other in a strange war
dance. His earlier concerns for his modesty were totally forgotten.
His mother waited for him to settle down then put him in
the corner for 15 minutes until he had quit sobbing. Then she sent him
to bed.
The next day, he couldn't sit down and it was over a week
before the last of the soreness left his bottom. That had been the
end of it and Paul had resolved never to get another licking like it
again.
II) Reason and Rationalization
"Paul? Are you listening to me?" Nina's voice had only
slightly raised with irritation but it succeeded in cutting into
Paul's thoughts.
"I'm sorry, I didn't hear you, I guess," he stammered.
" I Said, Paul, if you weren't to big for it then, is
there any reason for you to think you're to big to receive a sound
thrashing now?" She was looking straight at him, her long, deep brown
arms folded across the front of her blue jogging tank.
Paul couldn't believe his ears. Did she really intend to
give him a spanking? As he thought about it he began to see the logic
behind it. First of all, he was already feeling bad about his abuse of
Nina's trust in him; it made it very hard for him to look at her.
Then too, he knew that his actions called for some form of
disciplinary action and he figured that, whatever it was, it wouldn't
be to his taste and might be far more prolonged. A spanking would get
it over with; and, after he had paid for his misdeed, it would be
easier to look Nina in the eye again.
With this thought came another familiar problem: He felt
himself begin to stiffen at the idea of receiving Nina's punishment.
It didn't help that she was wearing that tight, blue tank top and blue
jogging shorts to match. Paul had found himself thinking several
times recently that Nina was quite sexy for an older woman.
Paul was wearing a T-shirt and a pair of cut-off blue
jeans. He hoped that she couldn't see the bulge forming at his crotch
through the tight denim but feared that it was probably all too
apparent.
Janina waited patiently for Paul to reach the only
conclusion possible. When she had walked in and caught him taking the
twenty from her purse, she had felt totally enraged and she had had to
force herself to maintain her composure. The anger had been fleeting.
Looking at Paul, she understood very well how he had managed to
justify the theft to himself. That didn't alter the fact that action
needed to be taken.
Like Paul's mother, Janina had raised Raymond on her own
and felt that she had done a pretty fair job of it. Certainly if
Raymond had stolen from her purse when he was in High School, she
would have strapped him good. Paul deserved no less.
One thought troubled her and that was the extent to which
she found him physically attractive. She looked at him now as he
stood before her. He was about 5'11" and on the slim side, probably
around 140 lb.. His blue eyes, red-blonde hair and freckled face gave
him the look of "the all American boy next door".
"No wonder the delivery service hired him," she thought
as she scrutinized him. She also noticed that there seemed to be
something stirring behind the buttons of his cutoffs and felt a little
surge of heat build between her legs. She reminded herself that this
was no time for such feelings.
Finally Paul spoke. "I guess I've really earned a hard
spanking. I'm sorry I took the money, Nina. I really am." The words
didn't leave his mouth easily. He thought each one would stick in his
parched throat.
III) Paying the Price
"I have a strap that I used on Raymond when the need
arose. Unlike a hairbrush, it is designed solely for the purpose of
chastising boys who exhibit undesirable behavior. You will find that
it is very effective." She watched Paul trying not to show his horror
as she spoke but she wasn't through yet. "On one occasion, I felt that
something even stronger was needed so I finished the session with
some cuts from a curtain rod. I think this is just the kind of
discipline you need today, young man."
She paused for a moment then said, "Do you wish to say anything in your defense?"
Paul wished he could but he knew there was nothing to say. "No ma'am," he mumbled.
She had Paul stand in the corner of the living room as
she gathered the necessary items. When she returned, she had the strap
and rod and a straight-backed kitchen chair which she placed in the
center of the room. Sitting on the chair, she placed the implements on
the floor by her right side. She asked Paul to approach her and he
did.none too quickly.
The strap was about fifteen inches long; its handle
taking up about four inches of that. It was made of stiff, black
leather and was five inches wide. The clear plastic rod was twenty
inches long and ¼ inch in diameter. When Paul saw them, his butt
cheeks involuntarily tightened. To his dismay, he also felt his cock
stiffen.
As he stepped over to her, she noticed, with suppressed
satisfaction, that the fly of his shorts was stretched tight by what
had to be a fair-sized erection. When he stood in front of her she
said, "I'm afraid you will have to remove your clothing".
She thought he might argue but instead, after just a
moment's hesitation, he bent down and began removing his shoes and
socks. He then pulled his T-shirt over his head so that it turned
inside out and dropped it to the floor. As he began to undo the
buttons of his fly, he did his best to look anywhere other than at
Nina. He fumbled the last one open and dropped the cutoffs to his
ankles. He stepped out and kicked them aside to join his shirt.
He was standing before her wearing only his white, cotton
briefs. The sheer, taut material bulged at the junction of his legs
and then traced the line of his erect penis up to the elastic
waistband. Paul's face was beet red.
"Looks like your pup wants out of his pup-tent," she
thought. Aloud, she said, "Those have to go too, I'm afraid," as she
motioned toward his briefs.
Paul bit his upper lip. Opened his mouth to speak once
and closed it instead. Then said, "Look Nina, I know that I deserve
this and I'm not trying to get out of it. But, I don't want you to
see.you know.." He motioned with his hands in front of his crotch and
his mouth worked soundlessly for a moment. ".if you could give me some
swats, you know, maybe by hand, on my pants first then I wouldn't be
like this.." He ended lamely.
Janina thought for a moment: Certainly there was a part
of her that would love to see Paul over her knee as her hand descended
upon his thinly clad bottom. She reminded herself that this was no
time to give this boy any leeway.
"I'm sorry, Paul, but your modesty is not my concern at
the moment. The fact that you're aroused is unfortunate for you, I'm
sure; however, I'm afraid that thieves don't deserve much dignity."
Her voice was hard and crisp. Now she softened it and added, almost
kindly, "If it helps you any, your current state is hardly shocking to
me and I don't find it offensive."
She then reached over and pulled his briefs down to his ankles and he stepped out of them. He stood naked before her.
"God, what a stallion", she thought as she viewed his
thin, taught frame. His body was nearly hairless except for a small,
thin patch of reddish blonde curls under each arm and another to match
above his cock. His erection was standing almost vertically and,
although of modest size to her eyes, it arched back toward his body
and seemed incredibly stiff. His balls were held tightly in their
pouch underneath.
"All right Paul, over my knees," she ordered. And Paul
lay across her lap. As he did, she opened her legs slightly and,
putting her hands on his hips, she guided him so that his bottom was
straight up and his erection slipped between her thighs. She closed
her legs firmly.
Paul's white buttocks were positioned perfectly for
punishment over Nina's lap. She lightly traced the curve of his cheeks
with the palm of her hand and felt his body tense. His ass rose
higher and she felt a surge of warmth start in her stomach and move
down her body and into her most sensitive parts. She reminded herself
that she was doing this for Paul's good and not for her own
gratification. But, she asked herself, was there any harm in it if she
found some pleasure in what she was doing?
She told Paul to put his right arm behind him and then
held it firmly with her left hand, pressing it into the small of his
back. She swallowed hard, and, keeping her voice low and calm said,
"I'm sorry this has to be so unpleasant. I think you realize that
you've brought this upon yourself, though."
With that, she picked up the strap, swung it high over
her head and brought it down, full force, across the high point of
Paul's ass.
SMMMACK!
Paul's body jerked in surprise and pain.
SMACK!!!
The next swat landed on top of the first. He let out a
yelp as he tried to adjust to the burning swats that were much worse
than he had imagined.
She sent eight more swats, hard and fast, to the same
place. Paul's feet came off the floor and he kicked convulsively, but
she held him firmly by the left hand and landed each spank on top of
the last.
Paul's mind had gone blank except for the sensation of
the terrible, burning strokes. He'd forgotten just how much a spanking
could hurt! As he kicked, he gritted his teeth and tried to move so
that the licks would not land in the same place; but she had him
pinned. Then she moved higher on his ass and the first swat was
actually a relief. By the third spank, the agony was worse than ever,
though. And she just kept it up!
WHACK!! WHACK!! WHACK!! WHACK!! WHACK!!!!!
When she was finished working higher, she went lower and
then to his upper thighs. She worked quickly and rhythmically putting
as much as she could into each swat.
By now, Paul was kicking and bucking. His buttocks
clenched and unclenched spastically. He was trying to beg her to stop,
but each new swat interrupted him. "You've a long way to go yet,
young man," she thought.
Paul's bottom was burning up! He knew it wouldn't be long before he started crying; and he didn't want that. Oh no!
He tried to twist himself on her lap to shield his
flaming behind. But when he did, she smacked him on the sides of his
ass and thighs until they were just as hot as the rest. Then he would
be forced to lie flat again and let her continue to punish his bottom.
With one great twist, he pulled himself free of her hold
and fell to the floor. He immediately began to beg her to stop and
promise to be good. The fact that he was exposing himself fully to her
view didn't matter now.
Nina grabbed him by his upper arm and forced him back
over her left knee, draping her right leg across his legs in order to
immobilize him. "I'm sorry, Paul, but it's not up to you to determine
when you have had enough. Frankly, you have a lot more coming."
That's when Paul began to sob. As she resumed her work,
he made an attempt to continue to struggle, but now, it was useless.
He was simply held too tightly. He gave up. The swats still made him
flinch and clench his bottom, but there was no way to try and avoid
them. He was crying now and didn't even care. Only the agony in his
hind parts mattered.
Janina watched Paul's struggles and reddening bottom with
growing satisfaction. This was one lesson that Paul wasn't going to
forget. No Sir! She was also aware of her increasing arousal as she
continued to smack the boy's clenching, jiggling backside.
She felt her own warmth and wetness build as Paul
thrashed and kicked and did whatever he could to try to resist his
punishment. His frenzied attempts made her even harsher: Her pace
faster, each stroke harder.
When Paul fell from her lap, she instinctively grabbed
his arm to pull him back into position. He began to plead and, as she
looked at him, she felt a surge of pity well up inside of her. She
could see how close he was to tears now.
A part of her wanted to stop the beating. She recognized
this as the same part that had been so enjoying the action a moment
before. Another part of her said that Paul's ordeal was still
insufficient, unfinished.
As she hauled him back over her knee, she resolved that
she would finish the job. That she would continue to spank him until
he gave in to it. Until he was crying and compliant.
In place of the pleasure she had been feeling, there was
now grim determination. She was very relieved when, almost immediately
after being dragged back into place, the boy quit struggling and
began to sob.
She let another ten to fifteen hard smacks land on his sit-spot and upper thighs. Then she stopped.
She still held Paul's right wrist in the small of his back as she watched the boy sob, his shoulders heaving.
She felt a great temptation to gently caress his red,
splotched bottom. Nina resisted, reminding herself that Paul wasn't
getting any more punishment than he deserved and that she had also
promised him that he would also feel the bite of the rod for his
actions.
Doubt entered her mind at that thought. Hadn't she made him suffer enough for his crime?
Looking at his tortured behind, seeing and hearing him
sob, feeling him shake against her knee as he did, she felt a strong
rush of empathy for the boy. Suddenly she had to fight back tears. She
blinked and swallowed hard a couple of times. She let Paul gain
control over his tears then dropped his wrist and helped him to stand.
Paul stood before her, head down, red-faced and
tear-streaked. His hands went slowly back to explore his tenderized
flesh. She let him feel it gingerly with his fingers, but when he
began to rub, she took both hands by the wrists and held them firmly
at his side.
"No, Paul. I'm afraid that is a luxury that you don't get
right now." Her voice almost betrayed her and cracked as she said it.
Standing, she used her thumbs to dry the tear marks from
each of Paul's cheeks and then led him to the corner. When his nose
was snugly set into the joint of the walls, she had him clasp his
hands behind him and placed the curtain rod in them, reminding herself
that she still didn't have to use it if she decided not to. When she
placed the implement into his hands, he whimpered a little and she
thought that he was going to beg her. He returned to silence, though.
Quickly, Nina left the room. She had to get away; she had
to think a little. She needed to sort out her own thoughts and
emotions. What had begun as a straightforward attempt to justly reward
Paul for his act of thievery had become a complex moral and emotional
issue for Nina.
Paul stood alone in the corner. The pain in his buttocks
was intense and seemed to throb. Still, he realized that it was not
unbearable. It occurred to him that it had been the fear of continuing
punishment that had prompted his tears as much as it had been the
pain of the blows.
As he thought of the curtain rod in his hands, another
rill of fear went through him. The rod was light, almost weightless,
and slightly flexible. He could imagine the sound it would make
swishing through the air. He winced and his buttocks clenched
involuntarily. He could almost imagine the white-hot line it would
make across his already burning bottom. Even as he shuddered at the
thought, he felt his balls tighten and his cock stir.
Nina paced in the kitchen. She stopped at the sink to get
herself a third drink of water; wishing its coolness would clear her
head. She had told Paul that he would receive the curtain rod for his
behavior! Didn't she have to make good now? Right away, part of her
said, "YES!" But then, she tried to analyze that part of her and she
found herself hopelessly muddled.
Was she punishing Paul or gratifying herself? Could she
do both at the same time? If this was about teaching Paul a lesson,
hadn't he certainly had enough? But what about her promise to use the
rod? Should she admit she had been wrong? What would Paul think of her
idle threat?
Finally, her mind settled enough for her to realize that
the ultimate question was whether Paul had learned his lesson or not.
She felt that it was obvious that he had. She sighed in relief to
herself as she made the decision and headed back into the living room.
As she entered and looked at the corner, her breath
caught in her throat. She struggled to keep her tone of voice low and
controlled. "Paul, what are you doing?"
Paul's body stiffened. "I."
As Paul's curiosity about the rod in his hand had grown,
he had begun to lightly rub it over his tender bottom, teasing the
skin with it. He had given himself a couple of light swishes with it
to try to get an idea what lay ahead for him. Then he had traced it
down his inner thighs and back up so that it lightly tickled his
balls. When Nina spoke, he had moved the rod to his front and was
stroking down his abdomen and into his pubic hair with it.
"Turn around, young man. NOW!"
As Paul turned, one glance at his erect penis was all
that Nina needed. She walked quickly over to him, seized him by his
upper right arm, and marched him over to the chair at a brisk pace. In
a terse, businesslike way, she directed him to bend over the back of
the chair and grab the seat.
She took a couple of deep breaths. "You know, Paul, I was
going to let you off the hook. But it seems that you are still
enjoying yourself a bit too much for that."
Stepping to his side, she cut the rod through the air
once to get a feel for it and to let Paul hear the sound. She then
turned and delivered three stinging blows to Paul's helpless cheeks.
She didn't use anywhere near full force. She knew that,
if she did, it would cut and tear his flesh. There had been a moment,
when she had walked into the room, that the thought of pure, bloody,
murder had crossed her mind. As Paul had turned, his face had looked
so shamed and panic-stricken that it had brought her back to her
senses.
The three fast licks landed on the center of Paul's
bottom before he had a chance to respond to the first one. He yelped.
His toes could barely touch the floor and now he danced from foot to
foot, small sounds escaping between his clenched teeth. This was FAR
worse than he had imagined. He hoped that this might be all of it!
Nina watched six bright stripes appear across Paul's fanny, three on each cheek. "That's three, Paul. You're getting twelve."
"Noooooooooooo!" Paul's voice came out in a whine of
fear. He tried to stand up, but Nina had been thinking he might do
just that and simply put her left hand firmly between his shoulders.
There was no doubt that she had leverage on her side.
Paul tried to struggle briefly as she held him in place.
Sharply, letting her voice raise for the first time, Nina said,
"Perhaps we should try for fifteen, Paul. How about twenty?" Paul's
attempts to stand stopped.
"That's better, young man." Her voice was calm again,
even soft. "Now, if you don't try any more shenanigans, this will go
relatively quickly and we' ll be done with it. I trust that will meet
with your approval."
Knowing that his answer wasn't required, Paul just waited
as Nina stepped back. She touched the rod to the top of his buttocks
and let it slide down over the three marks on each cheek. Those marks
had already become welts that had raised about an eighth inch off his
flesh. Paul sharply drew in his breath as certainty flooded him that
she planned to resume his punishment on exactly that same spot.
She lifted the rod and, aiming it lower, brought three
fast, hard, swishing strokes onto his sit-spot. Paul screamed. Both
feet left the floor and, for a moment the chair solely supported his
weight. Nina moved closer, extending her left hand just above his back
in case he tried to get up, but Paul held his position. She saw his
torso shake and knew that he was sobbing again.
"You're half-way there, let's finish this up." She murmured, as much as encouragement to herself as to him.
Quickly stepping back into place, she delivered the next
three licks to his upper thighs. Again, Paul wailed. "Oh, no! NOT
three more." The thought flashed across his mind through the searing
pain. "PLEAOOOOOOOWWWW.!" He had intended to beg for Nina's mercy in
the break before the last three swats; but there really was no break.
As Paul opened his mouth, Nina sent the last three licks
crashing home. Her swing much fuller than on the previous ones, she
briskly climbed up his backside: thighs. sit spot. center!
SWISSSSSH!!! SWISSSSSH!!! SWISSSSSH!!!
She watched as Paul's legs came up, bending at the knee.
His elbows folded under his chest; and, for a moment, she thought he
was going to fall forward and somersault over the chair! He drew
breath and howled again, but his feet came back to the floor and the
danger of his falling over the chair passed.
"OH GOD! OH GOD! OH GOD! OHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!" It was as if the dam had broken and Paul began to bawl.
Just as suddenly, Nina's resolve to remain stern
collapsed. She felt such pity for him wash over her. She stepped to
him and helped him to his feet. He was shaking with his sobs and tears
flowed freely down his face. "Oh, Paul!" she said as she clasped him
to her.
She wanted to tell him that she was sorry she had given
him those last three cuts; that she shouldn't have made them so hard.
Yet, something stopped her. Instead, she held him to her and rocked
him back and forth. Now there were tears in her eyes too.
In a few minutes, Paul began to get a grip on himself.
His sobs turned to sniffles and he found he could blink back his
tears. He became increasingly self-conscious as he hugged Nina. He
pulled himself away from her. "I'm sorry, Nina. I'm so sorry." It was
all he could think to say.
"I know Paul. You're basically a good kid." Nina's words
came out in a sigh. She looked into his eyes. "Just remember that
nothing is worth stealing to get." She allowed herself a trace of a
smile. "Now, get dressed." She said softly.
Paul moved over to where his cotton briefs lay and pulled
them up; carefully stretching the elastic waistband wide as he slid
them over his hips. As the material encased his rear, touching it
everywhere at once, his eyes widened and he quickly, but just as
gingerly removed them. He looked at Nina out of the corner of his eyes
and looked a bit sheepish. He carefully donned his cutoffs without
the briefs underneath. That was marginally better. They were rough,
but at least they didn't cling!
Paul remained with Janina Baker for the rest of that
summer and returned the summer after. They remained friends and Paul
certainly never gave Nina cause for a repeat performance!
Paul would later come to better understand his own sexual
desires that were tied to spanking. He would learn about spanking
games and seek out women that enjoyed them too.
In time, Nina took in a full time boarder. At first it
was simply a matter of convenience, then it became a friendship,
eventually they were married. If they played spanking games, it is for
another story to tell.