Neighbor's switching Part I

 

“Michael Matthew, what are you doing?”

“Oh, good afternoon, Mrs. Johnson.”  Michael hadn’t seen her hanging laundry through the row of fruit trees that grew on the border of their properties.

“What do you have there? Pruning shears? Are you here to cut a switch?  Michael blushed and nodded.

“What did you do?”

“Um, I was smoking at school.”
“Smoking?  What is it with smoking with you kids? Jessica got detention for smoking last week.”  Michael knew that. The reason he’d tried smoking was to seem cool to her.  “Give me those shears.  I’ll cut two switches your mama can tear your behind up with just like I did to Jessica.” She pointed at two stumps on a branch, “She tried coming in with two sickly sticks but I wasn’t having it.  I marched her right back out here and cut two switches that I was sure would leave an impression on her.  And, when I was done her backside was as red as a cooked crawdad.” She reached high to grasp a suitable branch and her skirt rode up showing pale thigh where the sun didn’t usually reach.  His eyes went wide but afraid of getting in more trouble he forced his gaze up over her shoulder. There he focused on two white brassieres pinned to the clothesline swaying in the breeze the larger of the two he knew belonged to the lady in front of him and the smaller to her pretty daughter. Further down the line were a small pair of bikini panties, white with a pink bow and lace fringing the waistband and leg holes, that had no doubt encapsulated the lovely behind he had so long admired and, he knew, suffered the same chastisements his did.  Despite his dire predicament he felt a stirring in his groin and prayed Mrs. Johnson wouldn’t notice. She didn’t help his case when she retrieved the first switch she had cut from the ground and her half-buttoned blouse opened to give him a glimpse of a bra matching the one on the line supporting her large, pale bosom.  She stood and thrust the switches at him with her right hand.

“These should put an end to your smoking habit.” She handed him back the pruning shears. “Make sure you clean them up well.  Jess left a little bud on one of hers and it nearly drew blood.”  Michael nodded, he had enough experience with the switch to know the importance of skinning it completely.  He nodded.

“Yes ma’am.” He turned to go.

“Mike.” Her tone was softer.  She walked through the trees to him and put a hand on his shoulder.  “Your mama is gonna whip you ‘cause she loves you.” He could smell her shampoo and realized it was the same one Jess used. “It isn’t easy for us, two single moms having to be both mother and father to you two.  If our husbands, your dads, hadn’t died in the war we could say ‘wait till Dad gets home’ and he’d give you a spankin or a lickin with his belt and we’d get to be the nice one comforting you when it was over.  We have to do both.  I know your Mama and I know how much she loves you, just as much as I love my Jess.  But we love you enough to try and make you do what’s right.  I didn’t switch Jess’s behind because I was mad at her - I just don’t want to see her develop a habit that can lead to a terrible death.  I know your Mama is the same way.  As bad as you feel now waitin for your whuppin - I bet she feels just as bad, or worse.  Don’t do this to her again.”  Then she leaned down and gave him a tight hug, her large breasts were mashed against his chest and his face was planted in her flower-scented hair.  When she broke the embrace she took him by both shoulders and looked unblinking into his eyes as if trying to amplify her message through her pale blue eyes.

Then she spun him around toward his own house and gave him a solid swat on his behind.  “Take it like a man Michael Matthew.”

 

He walked slowly to the house trying to process the past few minutes. What had started out as a simple, if severe switchin, had taken on a whole new dimension.  He felt terrible guilt for putting his mama in this position.  He’d never thought about it from her side.  It had never occurred to him that punishing him bothered her.  He sat on his back steps to peel the two, substantial switches, each thicker than branches he’d have selected.  He sighed and trimmed and peeled them.  He saw a blind raise in what he knew was Jess’s room and he saw her face in the corner and she gave him a small wave.  He blushed to know that she knew he was getting a switching but he figured they were even since he knew she caught it last week.  He cleaned up the greenery and walked inside.  His Mom wasn’t in the kitchen.  He called to her. “I”m here mom.” and, more softly “I’m ready.”

“Ok, hun.  Go wait in the den.  I’ll be right in.”

He laid the switches on the writing table where his Mom paid the bills, balanced the checkbook, and took care of the other administrative matters of the house.  Without being told he took the chair and turned it around.  His mother strode in a minute later.  She picked up a switch and held it up to examine it.  She caught his eye and raised an eyebrow apparently noticing how substantial it was.  He looked at the floor.

“Mrs. Johnson picked them for me.  She was out hanging laundry when I went to the trees.”  His mom smiled and chuckled.

“Sarah always thought I was too easy on you. Maybe she was right.  Smoking.  After all the talks we’ve had - and the warnings.  I always told you that smoking is the most ruinous thing you can do for your health and if I found out you were doing it you would get a most severe punishment.  I intend to live up to my word.”  She nodded.  “You know what to do.”

After his talk with Mrs. Johnson, he realized her speech was half a scolding for him and half a pep talk for herself.  He approached the chair, took a breath, and unbuckled his belt.  Then, he unbuttoned his jeans and pushed them down below his knees. He looked to his left at his mother, already holding one of the switches.

 “Please?”  She shook her head.

“No.  Underpants down too.”  He turned red and pushed the briefs down with his jeans.  Then he bent over and held onto the sides of the chair.  He felt her line up the switch, measuring it against his bottom. Then he heard the switch as it cut through the air and into his behind.   The first lick landed smack in the center of his backside.  He knew from painful experience all subsequent blows would fall below this line.  As if reading his mind she tapped the switch just beneath the first rail of pain and let fly, she had telegraphed her blow perfectly the second line had only millimeters between it and its predecessor. The process continued down his bottom, past the tops of his thighs, and down to just above where the legs of shorts would cover his legs.  His thighs were even more sensitive than his bottom and these made him want to squeal but, he remembered Mrs. Johnson’s admonition to “Take it like a man.” Somehow, he wanted to take it well for her. Finally, the first switch had given all it had and his Mom put it on the desk.  She ran a cool, soft hand over his bottom flicking away pieces of the branch.  “ I must say you are taking this very stoically.”  He turned to face her, tears welling in his eyes.  He shrugged. 

“I just know I deserve it and I’m sorry I let you down.” Her look softened for just a second but then she nodded.  “I’m glad you realize that.”  She looked down as she fingered the second, pristine switch. “But, I have to do my duty.  I have to finish punishing you.”  He took a deep breath, looked down at the seat of the chair, and lifted his butt.

“I’m ready Mom.” Whatever sympathy she felt for him was put aside and she continued giving him the worst switching of his life.  She used the new switch to lay stripes diagonally across the marks left in the first round creating a griddle effect on the lower half of his seat.  She finished him off with five slow, deliberate strokes across the tops of his thighs. Even his desire to telepathically impress Mrs. Johnson couldn’t keep him from yelling out.  

“Arrr!” Then her hand was on his back.  She rubbed it for just a second.

“Ok Mike, go stand in the naughty corner.”
“Mom please, I’m 18!”

“I want you to think about it, think about what you did, and let that sore bottom transmit a message to your brain.”

“I get that. But, can you not call it the “‘naughty’ corner?”  She chuckled and pointed with the switch.

“Ok Mike, go stand in the corner.”

“Thank you,” he replied formally and shuffled off to put his nose in the corner, with his pants and briefs still around his ankles, as he had after every punishment he could remember.  And, like every other punishment, his mother delivered the coup ‘de grace with a solid spank to each sore cheek.

Tara gets the switch

Tara sat on the back porch with pruning shears clipping the stems off the branch then trying to slice off the lateral buds left behind. When she had it as smooth as possible she peeled the touch layer of skin leaving the slightly moist stem. She held it up next to her pinkie and confirmed the branch was slightly wider than her own finger. She put it aside, she heard a lawnmower a few houses away, as it retreated she could hear boys playing basketball on the street in front of the house next door. John was her age, a funny, tall kid and good athlete she heard his voice calling for the ball. The wind shifted and she smelled the freshly mown grass, the lawnmower came closer, its engine drowning out the yells and laughter of the basketball players. She sighed and picked up the second branch and repeated the process of trimming and skinning it. She took the garbage bag and cleaned up the leaves and stems. She ran each branch between her fingers one last time confirming no buds had escaped her attention. Satisfied each switch was as smooth as she was going to get it she picked up the bag, shears, and switches and walked into the kitchen. Her mother was at the stove stirring a pot of spaghetti sauce. The aroma of garlic, tomatoes, and fresh basil filled the kitchen. The tomatoes and basil had been grown in the same garden where she’d selected her switches, pruning them from the peach tree. Mom nodded at her and she laid the switches and shears on the table and put the bag in the garbage. Mom took the large wooden spoon out of the sauce and laid it on the spoon rest sparing the counter. Tara never thought she would wish she was going to be spanked with the wooden spoon but today she did. Mom wiped her hands on her apron and examined the switches she held each one up to her own pinkie ensuring it was as thick as ordered. Mom nodded her approval and swished each of them through the air a couple of times the sound sending a shiver down her spine. Then she added water to a large vase and after cutting about a quarter-inch off the bottom of each switch placed them in the vase. Capillary action would cause the water to flow up the switches keeping them supple and adding weight to them. Mom then placed the vase in the corner. “These will be for after dinner. Your father will be home soon - tell your brothers to get cleaned up and come down to dinner.” She passed the message to her two brothers. Her brothers and her father arrived at the table simultaneously. He kissed her and her mother hello and hugged the boys. As he seated himself he noticed the vase and raised an eyebrow in question to Mom. “Mrs. Parker came home from work for lunch unexpectedly and found Emily and her smoking in Emily’s bedroom.” She blushed at the indictment and swirled some spaghetti pointlessly on her plate. Dad’s face reddened and he nodded his understanding.

“No need to explain how upset and disappointed your Mom and I are?” He asked.

“No Dad. I’m sorry.” Her brothers looked at her mouths agape then one caught sight of the vase with the switches brining. He elbowed his brother and directed his attention to the vase.

“Two” he mouthed to his brother.

“I’m going to deal with it after dinner.” Mom said as if answering the boys. Dad looked at the vase then at her and nodded.

“I guess that will cover it.”

“Well, that and a couple of weeks of being grounded,” Mom added. Tara blushed at the additional punishment added to her sentence. A college girl home between semesters being grounded; the humiliation of that was almost worse than the other. Dad nodded his assent.

When everyone had finished eating Tara was relieved of having to clear the table and instead her mother instructed her to get ready for bed and wait in her bedroom. She walked slowly up the stairs. She took a clean pair of panties and an oversized t-shirt from her dresser and retreated to the bathroom. She stripped and examined herself in the mirror. She’d spent several days at the beach and had definite tan lines where her bikini had covered her breasts and bottom. Her legs and torso were brown and the covered area the purest white. She palpated her butt and ran her fingers over her trim thighs for the first time wishing she had a layer of baby fat to provide some protection tonight. She’d run and swam much of the summer and was trim and in the best condition of her life. That made this whole situation even more ridiculous. Why had she accepted the cigarette from Emily? Why? She didn’t smoke - she’d never liked smoking. She certainly didn’t plan on taking it up. She could have smoked cartons while away at school and never have been in any danger of getting caught - much less punished. Why had Emily offered her one? Why had she accepted? Why had Mrs. Parker picked today to come home from work. Why? Had she just gotten tired of being such a good girl? Did she just want to be bad for once? Was that why? Well if so she’d been granted her wish. She was being treated like a bad girl. She just lost two weeks of her vacation to being grounded. Having to make excuses to her friends about why she couldn’t go to the beach, to parties. Could she just tell them the truth? Tell them she was grounded? And there was still tonight to get through. She stepped into the shower, washed and conditioned her hair. She used the luffa to scrub her body and shaved her legs. She stepped out of the shower, dried herself, and stepped into her bikini panties. She felt her nipples stiffen as they brushed the soft cotton of the t-shirt decorated with the name of one of her favorite bands. She placed her dirty laundry in the hamper and retreated to her room. She looked around for something to distract her: a book or magazine but realized it was hopeless. She sat on her bed and waited. She could hear the sounds of the rest of the family doing normal after-dinner things. Her brother’s cell phone ringing, plates clinking in the dishwasher. Her stomach jumped when she heard steps on the stairs but realized it was just her father going to his room to get changed into comfortable clothes - another false alarm when one of her brothers dashed up the stairs. She glanced at the clock - 8:22; it wouldn’t be long now.

Five minutes later she heard her mother’s unmistakable tread on the stairs her door opened and her mother stood in the doorway silhouetted by the hall light. “Are you ready?” Mom asked as if she had the option of declining. Her mouth suddenly dry she just nodded and began to rise from the bed. “I’ll take your cell phone and Ipad. You can have them back in two weeks.” Two weeks completely cut off? How would she survive? She gathered up the devices and placed them in her mother’s outstretched hand. Mom’s tone seemed to soften for just a second. “Ok, hon; let’s go.” Mom stepped aside to let her pass and she walked down the stairs, stomach fluttering her breath shallow, trying not to cry to maintain some dignity at least until it began. They paused when they reached the kitchen as Mom retrieved the switches. She shook them out over the sink and dried them with a dishtowel. Then she measured one at a time and cut them each down to about three feet trimming from the thin end so the business end was even thicker. She saw her brothers, uncharacteristically silent, watching from the family room where they had a baseball game on the TV. Dad just gave her a slight nod, glanced at the screen, and went back to his paper. How many times had she sat there watching one or the other of them being led to the den for a session with Dad’s belt or Mom’s switch? They were punished far more frequently - and usually more severely than she was - but their behavior was worse too. Sometimes she reveled in their pain, other times she felt a modicum of sympathy for them. What were they thinking now? She felt Mom’s hand on her shoulder guiding her into the den. She walked in ahead of Mom and heard the door close behind her. She turned around so they were face to face eyes full of tears and began one desperate plea.

“Mom, please, I’m sorry . . .”

Mom cut her off, shaking her head and closing her eyes. “No. Dad and I have always told you that we wouldn’t tolerate smoking. That as long as you lived here you were forbidden from smoking and there would be the most serious consequences if you did. It is not just you but your brothers I have to think about. I have to show them we are as good as our word - that if they are tempted they know what they’re in for if they smoke. You know you aren’t allowed to smoke. You know what the consequences are. You chose to smoke anyway. Now you need to face the consequences.” Mom laid one switch on the desk and kept one in her hand. “Take off your panties.”

“But, but two?” she implored. Two switches were reserved for the absolutely worst offenses. She’d been switched before but she’d never gotten it with two. Her brothers each had but not her. She’d learned that a double meant Mom switched with one until it was limp and the recipient's bottom and legs were on fire with stinging weals then she started again with a fresh, strong switch and crisscrossed the miscreants’ butt with a second coat of pain. She’d heard her brothers squealing as they were punished. Higher pitched squeals than they emitted when being strapped by dad with his belt. She would hear the belt land on their bare skin and then a yelp. But the switch itself was silent and all she heard through the door when Mom was punishing them was their own whines. She was far too smart and experienced to think she would endure even a moderate licking without crying out. And she knew her chastisement and reaction would soon be all over the neighborhood.

She reached under her shirt and shimmied her panties down over her legs and stepped out of them placing her hand on the back of Dad’s chair to steady herself. She picked up her panties, balled them up, and placed them on the desk. Mom nodded and motioned for her to turn around. She did slowly savoring the last few moments of being pain-free. “Bend over. Put your hands on the chair. Lift your shirt up.” Mom said this as she moved to her left. She did as instructed sucking in a deep breath, tensing, waiting. Mom measured the switch against her bottom lining it up so the end of the switch would land on the meaty - well as meaty as it got - part of her cheek. “I know it’s hard but try not to move - even if you anticipate the stroke coming. You could make me miss and land somewhere it will hurt even more.” Mom landed a couple of tentative taps, adjusted her grip, her stance, and then, SWISH! The branch she had prepared herself bit into her bare bottom a white-hot line of pain. The pain was shocking, like jumping into a frigid lake it literally took her breath away, and then she gasped for air. Mom left the switch embedded in her skin for a second drawing it out toward her scraping as she did so. Then Mom wound up again and landed a second cut just south of the first. She kept her breath this time and let out a high-pitched squeal in reaction to the two strokes. And so it went.


Mom delivered her licks with workmanlike concentration. She switched with the attention a painter would give a wall or a carpenter would to a board. She was carrying out an important task and she treated it with the gravity it deserved. Mom approached punishing her children with the care she attached to cooking their food or tending to their injuries. It was another task of parenthood - an important task. Tara squealed or yelped after each lick and cried in between them. Still, the switching continued. Mom laid the used switch aside and picked up the new one. Mom sucked in a breath and exhaled noisily. She examined the damage she’d already inflicted on her daughter’s behind. The overall redness was punctuated by thin weals and little bites where the end had bitten into her flank. Mom shook her arm out and flexed her fingers. She watched her daughter’s shoulders shudder as she sobbed. Mom fought the urge to let pity get the best of her and steeled herself to continue the punishment. Her Mom had decorated her own bottom and legs with switches more times than she could remember growing up. And, she knew she had never been whipped for the same offense twice. One session was enough to help her resist whatever temptation had earned her a licking. She was determined to make sure that the next time her daughter even thought of lighting a cigarette her bottom would tingle remembering today’s licking. She took one more breath and prepared to finish the punishment. she lined the fresh switch high on her daughter’s tanned thigh.


“Nooo.” Tara pleaded. “Not there Mom. PLEASE!”

The switch cut through the air with an evil whistle and landed right where she’d telegraphed it. “Arrrgh!” the girl cried out in agony. Somehow through the haze of pain, she had another disquieting thought - the marks of the switch on her thighs would be visible if she wore her short denim cut-offs. She wondered if they would fade by the time her confinement was over. Mom tapped a few fractions of an inch lower on her thigh and sizzled another stroke into the tender flesh evoking another cry from the recipient. She repeated this eight more times. Ten licks decorating the backs of her slim legs.


Mom paused and surveyed the girl's bottom now a light shade of red crisscrossed by thin tracks that had appeared as white lines but were now filling in with a deeper red. Mom knew that these were the lines that would make it uncomfortable for the culprit to sit for the next several days. She adjusted the position of the switch and aimed it diagonally across her daughter’s buttocks the wicked end aligned with the very bottom of the curve of her right cheek. When she was satisfied it was properly aligned she delivered the stroke. It intersected with many of the previous tracks cutting diagonally across the parallel marks left from the first coat of pain. The end of the switch continued its forward motion as its body found its motion interrupted by the meat of the girl's buttocks. The body of the switch pressed as far as physics allowed it to embed itself and compress layers of skin beneath it. The tip continued and centrifugal force made it bend around embedding itself in the soft underbelly of her asscheek. Four more licks like this were delivered. Four times the painful intersection of switch strokes formed. Four times the evil tip bit into the soft underside of her right cheek. The girl was crying, her hips were swaying, her feet stomped out a staccato rhythm of pain.


Mom took a step and a half to her left and aligned the switch with the parallel marks on the girl's left asscheek. Again the tip of the switch hovered over the curve of her buttocks. Tara let out a wail. “Noooo! Pleassse!!” But her mother was undeterred. The only semblance of mercy she showed her daughter was to deliver these five licks slightly more quickly, though with just as much force as those she had laid on to the right side. Drawing the switch out from the fifth slice into her right cheek Mom observed her daughter. Her trim brown thighs were decorated with five parallel lines - as her daughter surmised these would be visible if she donned her cut-offs before the marks faded - as her mother intended. Mom’s eyes worked their way up to the punished girl's bottom. It was now a dark shade of red with the griddle pattern of intersecting tracks. She knew that right now it burned and ached and stung all at the same time. She knew her daughter wanted nothing more than to reach back, grab both of her bare buttocks in her hand and do a war dance around the room. Mom knew that any thought of maintaining her dignity stifling her cries so her brothers wouldn’t hear them and report them to all of their friends, had long fled her mind which was consumed with the pain her burning, aching buttocks was tending to it. But, mom wouldn’t give her even that little solace. She put the switch down, though it could have administered another 10 or 15 licks before becoming too limp. She ordered her daughter to stand and the girl knew, without being told, to keep her hands at her sides. Mom placed a hand gently on her shoulder and led her to the corner of the den. The corner that was known from when she and her brothers were toddlers as the “naughty corner” and placed her nose in the vertex. Then Mom lifted her T-shirt to examine her bottom. Satisfied she had adequately carried out her maternal duty she finished the chastisement as she had every punishment since they were old enough to be spanked: with an admonition not to move until they were summoned punctuated with a firm spank to each bare, aching, cheek.

His Posterior Paddled for Procrastination

Laura sipped her wine as she listened to her friend complain. “I just don’t get it. How can he be so careless?” Sue asked. “Bill is a smart man, has a great job is in charge of a whole division. Why is he such a scatterbrain at home?” Laura started to offer an opinion but Sue continued. “Well, I know one thing. He’s not getting any for two weeks. Last time it was a week but that obviously didn’t work. Maybe his balls being ready to explode will teach him a lesson.”

“But what about you? Won’t you miss it too?” Laura asked. Sue grimaced.

“I will but I don’t know what else to do with him. Three bounced checks in three months? All because he wants to leave the money in the money market to get an extra billionth of a point over the checking account? And he has promised for months, months to put the new curtains up for me. He has a workroom to make Bob Villas green with envy and I can’t get him to hang some curtains?” Sue’s eyes narrowed as she spoke. Laura was afraid Sue was getting mad at her.

“I wasn’t defending him. Just pointing out the downside of your plan.”

“I know honey. I’ll miss it but I do have my little friend.” Sue did her best Pacino impersonation.

Laura would have blushed at that much information from almost anyone else in the world but she and Sue had been roommates in college and there weren’t many intimate details that college roommates didn’t know about each other.

“Men can be so childish.” Laura commiserated. “It doesn’t seem fair though, I mean in a way you are being punished for his misbehavior. I have known you a long time and I know how much you love sex.”

Sue signaled the waiter for two more wines. “But I have to teach him a lesson. He has to become more responsible.”

Laura took a deep breath. “You know.” She took a swallow of her wine. “You sound like a mother complaining about a child’s misbehavior.”

Sue nodded. “Yep. that is how he acts, like an irresponsible child.”

Laura took another sip of wine. “Then maybe that is the way you should treat him. Like a naughty boy.”

“I am, in a way. He’s grounded, he doesn’t get to play with his favorite toy.” She moved her hands down her body like a model vamping a gown.

“There are, or were, other forms of punishment you know.” Laura’s voice was husky as she said this. She hesitated. “Remember Tony? My boyfriend for a few months last year? “ Susan nodded. “He had a horrible habit of being late. Remember how late we were for Karen’s wedding?”

“Yeah and it was like a cold front hit the room when you two finally did sit down. You tortured him, but the nice girl you are you finally thawed. By the cake cutting, you two were little love birds again.”

“I didn’t thaw for no reason. He begged me to ease up on him. And, I told him I would; on one condition.”

“You get to grab him by his ears and make him please you?”

“Not exactly. I told him when we got back to my place I was going to give him a spanking.”

Susan nearly spit her wine out her nose. “You a dominatrix? Do you have a leather catsuit I don’t know about?”

Laura shook her head. “I’m not a dominatrix. I was just fed up with his childish behavior. But, being pissed at him during the wedding was spoiling my night too. I wanted to teach him a lesson but I didn’t deserve to have my night ruined. So I gave him the ultimatum, he agreed and we both enjoyed the rest of the reception.”

“And when you got home?”

Laura sat back in her chair a smile spreading across her face. “I paddled his butt till it was fire engine red.”

“You spanked that big Italian guy? He looked like he had muscles on his muscles.”

“He did and his ass was as hard as the weights he lifts. After about ten spanks I knew I needed a ‘little friend’” she said, miming Susan. “I think my hand hurt more than his ass. I made him go get my ruler. Do you know the one, made out of Lexan, about three inches wide?”

“And he did? He let you spank him?”

“Tony had his faults but he is a man of his word. I told him at the wedding that is what it would take for me to stop being bitchy and he agreed.”

“How did you do it?”
“Just like he was a naughty boy, I sat in my chair, he took off his pants and laid over my lap and I wore his ass out with that ruler. We dated another three months after that and he was only late once.”

“And did you . . .”

Laura nodded. “I didn’t even have to bring it up. As soon as he arrived he gave me a kiss and said ‘I know, I’m late, I’ll take my punishment when we get back.’ I teased him all night that he was getting a spanking. One time I think the waitress might have overheard me. His face turned as red as his ass after a spanking.” Laura laughed at the memory and shifted in her seat, despite not being a dominatrix the memory of his hard white ass turning redder and redder as the ruler did its job did have an effect on her.

“So you think I should spank Bill?”

“Maybe. I bet it would be better for you than being celibate for two weeks. And, as you said, you tried cutting him off before and it didn’t correct his behavior.”

“What would I use? He might not be the stud Tony was but he does work out and I don’t think my hand would make much of an impression.”

“Find something in your house. My Mom smacked my butt with a wooden spoon a couple of times growing up. That stung.”

“I got it once with Mom’s hairbrush. I bet my hairbrush would do a good job.” Susan took a long sip of her wine and focused on something far away, she took another sip and reached out and patted Laura’s hand. “Thank you. I’m going to try it.”


When Susan got home she retrieved the notice from the bank and put it on the dining room table. Then she pulled the curtain rods from the hall closet and leaned them against a chair. Finally, she placed her wooden hairbrush on the table next to the letter from the bank. She’d always dealt with conflict by withdrawing, becoming cool, and uncommunicative.

She found her mouth was dry, anxious about confronting him. The sight of the letter and the unhung curtain rods strengthened her resolve. She undoubtedly was in the right, the proof was right there on the table, along with the consequence. She picked up her hairbrush and imagined it smacking her husband’s bare ass and a grin spread across her face. She found herself excited, aroused a the thought. She poured herself a glass of wine and left the bottle on the table.

Bill walked in about 30 minutes later came up and gave her a kiss. He glanced at the items on the table but then reached for the wine.

“Not so fast Mister.” She’d rehearsed what she’d say to get his attention. He turned to her an amused, quizzical look on his face. He apparently thought she was joking. She pointed at a chair.

“Sit down. We need to talk.”

Whether it was her tone or the look on her face he appeared to realize she wasn’t kidding. He sat and looked at her. She slid the notice from the bank to him, crossed her right leg over her left, and let her high heel dangle. He read the letter and looked back up at her.

“I’m sorry hon. I meant to move the money over it must have slipped my mind.”

“Just like these slipped your mind?” She picked up one of the curtain rods and slid it across the table at him.

“Honey, easy, calm down. I told you I’d get to them.”

‘Calm down’ was like waving a red flag at a bull.

“Calm down? You’ll get to them? When? A few months from now? You were ‘going to move the money over.’ When? After you cost us more late fees.?” She stood up. “This nonsense stops now. You are going to learn that actions and inactions have consequences. If you want to act like a little boy who can’t finish his projects on time, who procrastinates and misses deadlines that is exactly how I will treat you.” She picked up the hairbrush and felt herself getting excited. The conflict caused adrenaline to course through her body but there was something else, her nipples were hardening and she felt her tummy tighten and the lips of her vagina moistening. Her face was flushed but she looked him right in the eye. He looked surprised and confused. He clearly wasn’t used to her acting this way.

“Bill, come here. I am going to spank you.” He shook his head.

“Are you nuts?” Her eyes widened. She needed to calm down, she was nuts. Oh no, he wasn’t turning this on her. She took a breath.

“Bill, I’ve put up with your nonsense since we’ve been married; since we’ve been dating. I’ve kept a lot of things in. I try to make this a happy home. But, I’ve had it. If you want us to be happy things have to change and they are going to start changing right now. I am going to punish you for your misbehavior.”

“You made your point. I’ll get my tools and hang the curtains right now. Before dinner.” He stood.

“Yes. you will but after you’ve taken your punishment.” He bent over in front of her and stuck his butt out.

“If it will make you feel better go ahead and give me a whack,” he said with a chuckle.

“It is not about me feeling better, it is about you doing better. And I’m not ‘giving you a whack.’ I am giving you a spanking. It is going to hurt enough to make you not want another one.” Bill stood up and faced her.

“And if I say no?” But his voice had lost some of its joviality. She arched an eyebrow and placed a hand on her hip.

“We both know I have other ways of making you miserable. This is short and to the point. You take your punishment and hang the curtains and we can have a nice dinner and a pleasant evening. If you disobey me . . .” She decided to let him fill in the blanks on his own. They stood looking at each other for what seemed like a long time. She didn’t break. She kept a neutral look on her face and maintained eye contact. He looked her up and down, she was still dressed from her lunch, short skirt, heels, her smooth toned legs tan and bare, a loose blouse that just hinted at the bosom beneath. She knew she looked good.

“Is this really necessary?” He asked.

“Yes. Yes, it is.” Sensing his capitulation she sat in the chair. “Take off your pants.” He stripped them off and she beckoned him over with a crooked finger. He stepped closer and she pulled his briefs down to his ankles. She saw that this was having some effect on Bill as well, his cock was at half-mast it bobbed a little up and down seemingly unsure if it should go to full erection. She patted her lap. “Get over my knee.” Saying those words had an effect on her and she felt herself become more aroused. Bill positioned himself over her lap, she opened her legs to accommodate his cock which hardened as it glided across her thigh. She pulled him closer with her left arm and rested the back of the brush against his right cheek. Without warning, she lifted the brush and brought it down low on the right side of his ass. It landed with a CRACK that startled her.

“Ow!” Bill yelled out, adding in a surprised voice “That hurt.”

“I guess I am doing it right then.” Susan smacked his left butt with the brush, Bill was apparently mentally prepared for this one and responded with just a grunt. Laura had told her that she didn’t count the spanks when she punished Tony, she just spanked until she decided it was enough to teach him a lesson. Susan decided to do the same. She didn’t swing with all of her strength but she spanked hard enough to see the hairbrush sink into the meat of his ass. She alternated her spanks between his left and right cheeks which turned first pink, then red, and finally a darker red. Bill was squirming on her lap now. He kept his hands on the floor but his hips were bucking and gyrating after each spank. His once semi-rigid cock had withered due to the assault on his ass. She became more aroused as she punished her husband. The crotch of her panties was noticeably damp. She tightened her grip and gave him five slow hard spanks all on his left cheek. This caused him to emit a few “Ows.” Then she finished with five deliberate whacks to his right side. He was clenching and unclenching his cheeks furiously now, turning her on even more. She put the brush down and cupped his right cheek. She was shocked at the heat coming off his skin. She ran her soft hand over his punished posterior. “You took your punishment well. Stand up.” He stood and looked at her wide-eyed.

“You really laid it on.” He held one hand demurely in front of his crotch while the other explored his damaged derriere. Her face felt flushed and she wondered if he thought it was from the exertion of spanking him or if he detected her excitement.

“Don’t forget that was for two offenses; the bounced check and not hanging the curtains. I assumed you would prefer one longer spanking to two shorter ones.” He nodded at her logic. “Go ahead and hang the curtains.” Bill reached for his briefs.” No. I want to watch you do it with that red hiney on display.” He hesitated but then acquiesced and dropped the briefs. She sat back in her chair and watched as he perched on the step ladder measuring, drilling, and screwing the brackets into the wall. Her hand drifted to her crotch and she pressed her mons through the fabric of her skirt, stopping when she saw him stepping down from the ladder. She retrieved his briefs and held them out to him leaning in for a kiss. “See? You hung the curtains in less time than it took me to give you a spanking.”

“You’re right honey, I’m sorry. I should have hung them sooner.” She squeezed his butt, earning a pained grimace as she gave him another kiss.

“Good boy. You get changed while I cook dinner.”
They enjoyed their meal, finishing the bottle of wine she had opened. They capped the night off in bed where he started by licking her still wet pussy and they ended up climaxing together, he buried deep inside her while she dug her nails into his still hot ass.


The next morning Susan sent a text message to Laura “Guess who got her curtains hung last night?”

Laura responded, “Did you . . .?”

Susan wrote back “Yes, thanks for the tip.” And ended the exchange with a devil smiley face emoji.

The Apartment

Hello again! Well I failed to hit the mark last week. I didn't post anything. Any editirx who would like to take me to task for that can send me a message.




This story is part of what I hope will become either a novel or a series of stories. The set up is that two couples; Michael & Lauren and David & Jessica share a pied-å-terre in Manhattan. Both couples practice domestic discipline and sometimes enjoy an erotic spanking. These characters will be better developed over time. If you enjoy this story please leave a comment or share with your friends.

Jim



Michael and Lauren were in bed where he was reading a book on his Kindle and she was playing with her Ipad. He was wearing silk boxers and a T-Shirt while Lauren had on a long but slinky black nightgown.


There was a knock on the door, the couple exchanged a look, Lauren pulled the sheet up to her neck Michael called out “come in.”


Jessica came in wearing a t-shirt that ended at her waist and a pair of white panties. She looked at the floor and tried, unsuccessfully, to pull the bottom of the t-shirt down to cover her panties succeeding only in pulling it tighter over her breasts. She looked at Lauren, giving her a quick smile, then at Michael.


“Um, Michael? David told me to ask to borrow your belt.” Once she made her request she went back to examining the carpet.


“Are you in trouble?” Lauren asked. Jessica looked up and nodded. Then her eyes went back to the carpet. Michael exchanged a look with his wife and retrieved the belt. Lauren frowned. “I’m sorry Jessie. Mike’s belt is pretty mean - but you’ll live. I always do.”


Jessica looked up, forced a smile, and uttered a quiet “Thanks.” Her eyes were beginning to brim.


Michael handed her the doubled-over belt. “Here you go. Good luck,” he added. Jessica turned toward the door and Michael watched her walk out, closing the door quietly behind her. As he returned to bed Lauren noticed his erection.


She tugged at it gently through his pants. “Did Jessie’s cute little bottom get you excited?” She teased.

Michael smiled at his wife as he crawled onto the bed. “Her bottom has only one thing over yours.” He told her.


Lauren raised her eyebrows and set down her iPad. “Really?”


“Yeah. yours is too pale and I have a feeling hers isn’t going to be.” With that, he grabbed her shoulder and rolled her onto her stomach and delivered a firm spank to each cheek through her silky gown.


Lauren pushed him away and sat up. “Oh no. I’m not getting a spanking just because our roommate is in trouble.”


“I know. I have a better idea.” He gets out of bed again and opened their bedroom door. He looked down the hall where he could see David and Jessica’s door was also ajar. They heard David lecturing Jessica. Michael climbed back into bed and slipped under the covers. He took Lauren in his arms and kissed her gently.

“Aren’t you glad you’ve been a good girl?” He kisses her. “No lecture, no spanking, no belt coming.”


He kissed her more deeply, pressed his body against her. She responded in kind. He began kissing her neck, down to the cleavage protruding from the V of her gown. She threw her hair back and started to pull a strap from her shoulder to grant him access but he was gone, under the covers, sliding the material of her gown up over her hips. He kissed her legs, then inside her thighs. The lecture in the other room had stopped. It was quiet for a few seconds and then they heard a slap. Jessica’s spanking has started. Michael guided Lauren’s red panties down her legs. The spanks grew louder, sharper. Michael kissed, licked, sucked on, and nibbled the inside of her thighs. The spanking continued next door, the speed picked up. They can hear small whimpers from Jessica. Michael moved in  licking her pussy, his tongue flicked her clit then thrust completely inside her. Lauren arched her back tried to force herself closer to him, making his tongue go deeper. There was a pause in the spanking and when it resumed the sound was different. Jessica’s panties had come down and David was spanking her bare bottom; the penultimate stage of her punishment. Michael was back to licking Lauren’s clit trying to coordinate his licks with the spanking down the hall. Lauren was breathing hard but holding on - she didn't want to come -yet. Another pause down the hall. They heard the sound of the belt buckle clanking against itself. A sound they both recognized from the times Michael has doubled the belt to punish Lauren. He stopped licking her and pulled his boxers off. He positioned himself above her and teased her - the head of his prick pressing against her lips. She was frantic with desire. When they heard the first lick of the belt against Jessica’s bottom Michael plunged in. He withdrew and waited until the second stroke before burying himself again. Jessica was crazed from the oral stimulation, his cock inside of her, and listening to her friend being punished just feet away with Michael's’s belt. She knew how Jessie’s bottom was stinging and burning by now and the next stroke of the belt brought a cry from the bedroom to accompany the crack. She ground hard to meet Michael's thrust. Jessica received 28 strokes with the belt - one for each year of her age. Michael and Lauren climaxed together on stroke 25. A few minutes later they heard footsteps coming toward the still-open door. Jessica was there holding the belt - tears still running down her face. She held the belt out and Michael nodded toward the valet. As she placed it down she tells said “David would like you to join him in the living room for a nightcap.” 

“Tell him we’ll be there in a minute,” Michael instructed her. She nodded and walks stiffly out of the room. When she was gone Michael and Lauren rooted around in the sheets for their garments. She pulled her red panties up under her gown and found a sheer shift to put on top to slightly obscure the view of her breasts. Michael pulled on his sweats and they walked hand in hand to the living room. David had a bottle of white wine in a cooler for Lauren and glasses of single malt scotch for himself and Michael. Jessica was standing with her nose pressed firmly in the corner, hands on top of her head. Her bottom protruding from the white panties is very red and there are angry lines where David strapped her thighs.

The Manuscript

The Manuscript


Jim finished drying and putting away the dishes, Jess dried her hands and took off her apron. He kissed her on top of her head. “Dinner was great honey. Thank you.”

She hugged him. Savoring the smell of his cologne.

“Do you have something else for me?” He asked. She tightened her grip on him and ground into him. “No. Not that. I think the first draft of your manuscript was due today. Remember we set a deadline? So you would get back into writing?”

“Um. No. I mean yes I do remember but I didn’t exactly finish it.” She stepped back from him a bit. She felt a guilty flush moving up her neck and tried to will it to stop.

“We agreed to 10,000 words by tonight. How ‘not exactly’ along are you?”

“Ah I have a page, a page and a half maybe two. I kept changing characters and viewpoints, even settings. It’s been so long I just couldn’t decide. Are you mad at me?” She put on her best pouty face and looked up at him.

“Mad? No. I’m not angry. You didn’t do anything to me. This is your project. This whole exercise was to help you. You said you wanted to get back to writing. You said you wanted some structure. A little ‘impetus’ to get started again. I’m not angry - but I am disappointed.”

“I’m sorry. I thought I would get into the flow and I'll do better next week. I promise.” She nuzzled into him.

Jim stepped back. “Jess. You know that wasn’t the deal.” She felt the flush continue its advance her ears warm now. “You made a commitment. And, so did I.”

“Yeah, yes but . . .” She looked around, frantic. Her mind raced trying to think of an excuse, something to get her out of this. He took both her hands in his.

“Calm down. I’m not going to spank you. Now.”

“You. You’re not?” She let out a long breath. Then her mind focused on the word “Now.”

“No. You’re having lunch with your friends tomorrow. Right? You’re aspiring writer friends?”

“Yes. At 1:00 at Mario’s.”

“Well you’re going to have lunch with a sore bottom. I’m going to spank you tomorrow before your lunch. You’ll still be feeling it while you’re eating. As you all sit around and compare notes you’ll be reminded of your shortcomings.”

She didn’t know what to do - she didn’t want a spanking - now or tomorrow but she certainly didn’t want a spanking just before she went to lunch. She took a deep breath, closed her eyes. “Jim, please give me my spanking now.” There. She’d said it.

He smiled that smug smile of his “No dear, you get your spanking tomorrow.”

Jess worked on her manuscript all night. She went back to her outline, decided on her main character and what point-of-view she would write in. With a clear vision of how her story would proceed she wrote until almost midnight and doubled her number of completed pages. She slipped into a baby doll top and matching bikini panties, she brushed her hair and sprayed on a little of Jim’s favorite perfume. Jim was reading a magazine in bed when she walked in her lingerie concealing just enough of her body to intrigue him. They both had a thing for lingerie, pretty things made Jessie feel pretty while Jim loved the way they enhanced and still covered her figure. He closed his magazine and put it away as Jessie slid under the covers next to him. She turned on her side and slid her hand into his shorts feeling his cock come to life in her hand. She stroked him gently and let her fingers wander down beneath his scrotum, she ran her nails along his perineum and then went back to stroking his cock. She leaned in to kiss him allowing him a peek inside her babydoll top. His hand moved up and slipped along her smooth belly to her breast, his palm supporting the weight of it while his fingertips were circumnavigating her areola. They were both flushed and their breathing increased. She disengaged her lips from his and kissed his neck, then his shoulder, then his chest, her lips moved to his hard flat belly as her hand pushed his shorts down over his hips, he lifted his buttocks to aid her in undressing him as her mouth approached the top of pubic area.

She swiveled her body around so she was kneeling between his legs, she pulled the babydoll top over her head, bowed forward and ran her hands down the sides of his body while her breasts ran down his chest and belly finally stopping on either side of his erect penis. She wriggled a few times, her soft bosom caressing him then she sat up and scooted back, she licked his thigh on either side, lapping his legs like licking an ice cream cone. She puckered her lips and kissed his scrotum that was growing heavier as his balls tightened. She ran her tongue along his sack and circled the base of his penis before rising up and taking him in her mouth. She slid her tongue from the base to the tip, her tongue circled the tip already moist with precum then lowered her head and swallowed him again. As she worked her way up this time she tightened the seal with her lips and increased the suction, his back arched down again and her tongue played alongside the underside of his cock. She lingered, stationary, sucking hard for a few seconds when she had him completely in her mouth. Then she slowly lifted her head keeping the pressure on. She went down faster now and returned to the top quickly. Jim held tight his buttocks pressed into the mattress as she did the work. She repeated the dance with her head over and over, her hand rolled his balls in her palm then she felt his balls tighten, she took him as far into her mouth and throat as she could just as he erupted, not just once but waves of semen escaping him. She swallowed every drop she could but still some ran out the corners of her mouth, his volume and velocity too much for her to accommodate.

“Jessie,” His voice was hoarse, his breath rapid. She turned her head to look up his long body into his eye, raising an eyebrow to acknowledge him. “That one has to go in the blowjob Hall of Fame.”

Jessie snuggled under his arm Jim draped his arm across her shoulder and idly fingered her breast.

“So, you can just forget about that silly old spanking thing for tomorrow - right honey?” Jessie asked. Jim pulled away and stopped fiddling with her nipple.

“Forget about it? No honey I’m afraid we can’t do that.” Jim replied.

“Why not? What about the ‘Hall of Fame’ BJ I just gave you?”

“That was wonderful honey and I surely appreciate it but one thing has nothing to do with the other. We made an agreement and we both have a responsibility to live up to our ends of the bargain. You said 10,000 words or a spanking. I agreed to spank you if you didn’t reach your goal. We didn’t say a “spanking or a blow job’. I intend to carry out my part of the agreement and I fully expect you to accept your part.” Jessie crossed her arms over her bare bosom.

“Hmph! Why do you have to be so damned logical all the time?”

“I don’t know honey. Because one of us has to be?”

The next morning Jim read the paper and sipped his coffee while Jessie scrolled through social media on her iPad.

“What time is your lunch today?” Jessie felt her stomach tighten.

“Uh, 1:00 at Mario’s.”
“Nice place. It should take you what, about 20 minutes to get there?”
“Yeah, I suppose.” Jessie’s voice was soft. She had an idea where this was going.

“So to be safe, find parking etc. I guess you should leave about 12:30?” This time Jessie nodded. Jim put his newspaper down and looked directly into his wife’s beautiful eyes. He could see through the lenses of her eyeglasses that her eyes were beginning to well up. “Ok, Jessie, please meet me in the office at 11:15. Be completely ready to head out, dressed in the outfit you’re wearing to lunch. And Jessie?”
“Yes?”

“Bring the paddle. The wooden paddle.” Jessie just hung her head and nodded. Jim folded the paper and gave her shoulder an affectionate squeeze. Then he bent over and kissed the top of her head.

Over the years of their marriage Jessie and Jim’s spanking routines had evolved. Jessie actually liked a good erotic spanking and a good hard spanking led to powerful orgasms. She could take a long severe spanking with Jim’s hand or the leather paddle. The smacks leaving her ass hot, red and sore and they would both be incredibly turned on. Jessie would be multi-orgasmic and Jim loved taking her from behind feeling her hot as a stove on his bare thighs as he fucked her. But, Jesse HATED punishment spankings. First of all she hated being wrong, she was a perfectionist and detested making mistakes. She really detested being told she was wrong and very few men had earned the right to call her out on errors, omissions, or short-comings. Jim was one of them. The other side of that was that she was her own harshest critic. She would not let a mistake go, look forward to doing better next time or just move past the mistake to the next event. No - she had to hash and rehash it in her mind, invoking brutally negative self-talk “You’re an idiot, you don’t deserve to succeed, how did you even get here?” This negative talk had sabotaged her dream of being a published author. She suffered from the “impostors syndrome” that plagued even the greatest writers. This quest for perfection is what stymied her writing. Rather than just writing and then revising, Jessie re-wrote every paragraph, every sentence, changed words and then changed them back over-and-over, until she deemed it perfect. The books she read and the groups she joined all mentioned accountability. Writing programs allowed her to set word count goals for a day which hse set dutifully and then beat herself up if she fell short which her perfectionism all but guaranteed. She had finally enlisted Jim’s help. Just having a computer program tell her she fell short wasn’t spurring her on to do better. She needed to be held accountable. Their discipline sessions had enhanced their marriage as much as the erotic spankings had improved their sex life. If Jessie threw a tantrum, forgot a chore, or said something vicious to Jim she would earn a punishment spanking. She hated and avoided these. To make sure their was no confusion between the two erotic spankings took place in the bedroom while punishments were administered in Jim’s home office. He had even designated a “naughty corner” - Jessie despised the childish term - opposite the window where Jessie would stand, red bottom on display, after the spanking to let the heat, pain and lesson of the day’s session sink in. Jessie had explained her dilemma of being unable to reach her goals writing. They both knew what the problem was but Jim was the first to articulate it and he used the same word her writing books and critique groups used - “accountability.” They had agreed on a weekly word count rather than a daily count so if Jess was having a legitimate bad day, writer’s block etc. she could make it up another day. She had come up with 10,000 words a week to get her first draft finished on her timetable. They had agreed that the severity of her punishment, if necessary, should be in line with how much she fell short. She would be spanked much less severely if she missed by 100 words than if she was 1,00 words short. In this case she was 9,500 words short. Jim could not physically chastise her hard enough to account for that short-fall; even Jessie’s resilient bottom couldn’t absorb that much punishment. So her corporal punishment would be coupled with the discomfort of attending her lunch with a very freshly spanked bottom.

At 11:15 Jessie finished her makeup and tied her hair back. She'd selected her outfit with the two appointments she had that day in mind - easy access to her backside for her spanking and a fashionable outfit for lunch. She’d chosen a button down blouse, a green skirt with no stockings or panthose, and, as always she wore a matching bra and panty set underneath. The both were white with pink bows and lace trim on the bra cups and the legs of the high-waist panties. She looked herself over in the mirror, smoothed her skirt, fixed a stray hair and took a deep breath. Then she went to her dresser, dug around under her lingerie until she felt the wood of the punishment paddle. Jim had found the paddle in the very back of an antique store they were exploring during a weekend getaway. It was the real thing, not a bedroom prop or tourist trinket. It was an honest-to-God punishment paddle. It was made from heavy wood, well-formed but not perfect indicating it was hand made rather than machine produced. The wood was stained a dark brown but it had two areas where the original lighter shade of the wood shone through, apparently, this area most often came into contact with the penitent’s bottom. Jim had called her over when he discovered it.



“I want you to buy this.” He instructed her. Jessie laughed at first.

“Oh no Jim, what would the sales lady think?”

“She’d think, correctly, that you can be a naughty wife who needs her pretty posterior paddled occasionally.” Jessie shot a glance to the front counter where the annoyingly well put together woman was reading a catalog of upcoming estate sales. She decided to take another tack. “But Jim.” she lowered her voice to a whisper “You wouldn’t spank me with that - it is too hard.”
Jim took it from her and slapped it into his open palm. The smack echoed through the store causing the cashier to look up from her catalog. Jim shook his hand.

“It does sting but nothing you couldn’t handle.” Jessie blushed.

“Here you go.” He handed her the paddle and nodded towards the cashier. Blushing, Jessie took it from him. She was impressed with its weight as she carried it to the cashier. The woman took it and wrapped it in tissue paper before placing it gently in the store’s paisley bag.

“That came from the estate of our former Elementary School Principal.” She advised. Jim nodded. Jessie blushed.

“I’m sure it was quite effective at correcting the naughty boys. And girls.” Jim replied. Jessie’s blush deepened. The saleslady gave a throaty laugh and her hand went to the back of her skirt.

“Oh, I can assure you it did. Good luck to both of you.” She nodded at Jessie and gave Jessie’s eye an annoyingly knowing smile.

The punishment paddle - as opposed to her leather fun paddle - became the penultimate implement of discipline in their house, only Jim’s old leather belt more senior in terms of severity. The paddle wasn’t used often, Jessie earned a punishment paddling only once every three or four months and the belt only once or twice a year. She’d usually earn a punishment spanking about once a week or, if she hit a good stretch, every other week. Even Jim’s hand spankings hurt enough to teach a lesson, the paddle really drove his point home and a strapping with the belt left no doubt that she’d done wrong, but what Jessie hated most was the simple fact that she was being punished - that she’d earned everything Jim was dishing out. And, most of all she hated the lecture that preceded each and every punishment. Jim was infuriatingly logical and articulate. Not only did his scolding extend the punishment, but he also articulated every single aspect of her misbehavior, drew it out, put it under a microscope, and shined a light on it. Then he described in gruesome detail what she did, why it was wrong, why she needed to be punished, how she agreed to do or not do the thing necessitating her punishment. “Didn’t she remember that agreement? Then why had she done it?” Shaking his head in disappointment, telling her how she’d let him down, how she’d let herself down, how much better she was than this. He knew exactly what words hit sore points with her; she would be on the verge of tears or sometimes have tears streaming down her face before she even positioned herself over his lap or bent over the chair to receive her punishment. With all of this running through her head Jessie pulled the paddle from the drawer, took a deep breath, and walked to Jim's office.

Jim was seated at his desk going over a spreadsheet when Jessie tapped on the doorframe, paddle held down by her side. He automatically smiled when he saw her, forgetting for a moment why she was there. The sight of the paddle reminded him and his smile faded.

“Come in, Jessie.” He checked his watch. “You're a few minutes early. Hoping to get it over with?” Jessie shrugged.

“I was ready so I figured I’d come down. No use standing around waiting.”

“I understand but I’m not quite ready yet. I need to finish this before we begin. But, you know I think a little corner time in preparation for your spanking is in order today. Go put your nose in the naughty corner while I finish this up. Think about what you have coming - you know the ache the paddle leaves behind, think about how you’ll feel eating lunch today with your friends with a sore, hot bottom as opposed to the nice lunch you could be having if you’d met your goal. Put your nose in the corner and think about how much you got done last night when you really put your mind to writing and how, if you’d done that earlier in the week we wouldn’t be here right now. Jessie, go stand in the corner.” Jessie nodded and eyes on the carpet walked to the corner with the paddle still in her hand. She shuffled in so her toes were touching each wall her peripheral vision was blocked by the wall on either side. The window was open and she could smell the flowers outside and even hear birds singing. She also knew that if someone walking down the sidewalk craned their neck at just the right angle and slowed their pace they could probably discern her standing in this juvenile punishment position. She blushed at the thought. She heard Jim’s fingers on the keyboard and she could even tell when he’d pushed the final “Return” key. Then she heard his chair scrape and his footfalls heading toward her. He reached down with his right hand and relieved her of the paddle. He placed his left hand gently on her shoulder.

“Did you think things over?” He asked. She nodded.

“Do you think you’ll do better next week?” Jessie’s heart leaped, maybe he was letting her off with a warning, maybe this had just been an exercise like “Scared Straight” to show her what could happen if she didn’t do better.

“Yes, oh yes. I know I’ll do better.”
“Good, then we won’t have to do this again. Let’s go, honey, let’s get your bottom paddled so you can get to lunch. Say goodbye to the corner, for now, you’ll reacquaint yourselves in a little while.” Jessie swallowed hard. She wasn't getting off with a warning. She took a breath as he reached down and took her left hand in his and led her to the chair. He sat and put the paddle on the floor on his right side. She stood before him as vulnerable as if she was naked. He was silent for a good thirty seconds just looking at her, looking into her eyes, looking her up and down. She could tell he was gathering his thoughts.

“You’ll be going to lunch after your spanking Jessie.” She nodded. “You’ll be going to lunch with women who are not as smart, not as talented, not as witty but who are, in this field, more successful. Why is that?” Jessie shrugged. “Jessie. I asked you a question. Answer me.” Jessie sighed.

“Because I don’t let myself just write. I labor over every word. I’m too much of a perfectionist.”

“But, you can do better when you set your mind to it?” Jessie nodded. ‘Use your words, Jessie.”

“Yes. Yes, I can when I make a point of it.” Jim nodded.

“Then that is the goal of today’s exercise - to remind you to make it a point not to be such a perfectionist. ‘Write first; revise later.’ Isn’t that one of your mantras?”

“Yes.”

“Lift your skirt.” Jessie did as he instructed, blushing as she lifted the hem of her skirt above her hips. They’d seen each other naked dozens, hundreds of times but the ritual baring for punishment still mortified her. He beckoned her with his finger and she stepped closer to him. Without another word, he grasped her panties and tugged them down. She lifted one foot then the other stepping out of her undergarment now completely bare below her waist.

“I’m going to spank, and paddle your bare ass now Jessie. You are going to get a good, hard paddling. It is going to hurt. Not only is it going to hurt, but the paddle is also going to cause the ache to last. Your pretty ass will still be hot and sore, probably even bruised.” He ran his index finger up the middle of her slim thigh and over her cheek. “All of this is going to be red and hot.”

Tears were streaming down her face now. The embarrassment of standing bare before him, the cold, unemotional way he described the effects of her punishment, the clinical manner he adopted as he described her discomfort at lunch. The man she loved, and who she knew loved her describing her upcoming misery with less emotion than describing the home team’s loss. This is what hurt her; that she knew he was right, that she was getting what she deserved, she couldn’t be mad at him because he was right and she’d been wrong. The horrible punishment, the pain she’d suffer that he so casually described was exactly what she deserved, what she needed. He moved his hand to the small of her back and through its pressure guided her over his lap. His hands roamed the region south of her bunched-up skirt as he adjusted her over his lap. She ended up with her arms supporting her, her midsection lying almost comfortably across his hard legs. He rubbed her bare cheeks, his calloused hands rough on her soft, smooth skin. He took a deep breath, lifted his hand from her ass, and brought it crashing down in the center of her ass, his fingers sinking into her right cheek while most of his palm sank into the right. Punishment spankings did not include a warm-up. The punishment started from the first spank and continued until the last. He spanked rapidly, randomly heating her whole ass and, as he’d promised, expended some effort on her tender thighs. These he attacked with his fingers his digits like cords of a whip. Then he went up to the very base of her ass cheek, his hard palm striking these with an upsweep that left the cheeks jiggling after each spank. She was crying not from the embarrassment now but the pain. Her toes tapped steadily on the floor. Still, he continued to spank her. The skin on her cheeks felt tight, stretched thin over her swollen buttocks. He paused his attack. He traced his fingertips over her ass. Tightened his left arm around her waist. She felt his weight shift as he retrieved the paddle. She wouldn't debase herself by asking for mercy. Once he had pronounced a sentence she knew he would carry it out. She braced herself for the coming pain. She deserved it - she needed it. He rubbed the smooth cool wood across her ass. She took two deep breaths.

“You know what to do Jessie. Poke it up.” Jessie arched her back and poked her bottom up in the air. She hated assisting in her own punishment but this came with a paddling. He tapped her ass twice with the paddle transmitting where it would land and WHACK! Brought it down exactly where he’d promised. Jessie yelped, her tears increased.

“Lift it up, Jessie. Don’t make me tell you each time. Let’s get this over with.” Like they were coworkers sharing a task. Jessie did as she instructed, he tapped her twice a little lower, Jessie groaned in anticipation WHACK! She yelped again and quickly pushed her butt up and out he rewarded her cooperation with two quick taps and SMACK! She recovered quickly earning her a “Good girl.” two firm taps across the center of her bottom and a hard WHAP! This elicited a screech but again she did what she was supposed to and arched her back presenting her bottom for more punishment. In all she received 10 strokes with the paddle, combined with the hard spanking that had preceded it; her bottom was a deep red, small black and blue marks decorated her lower cheeks.

“Ok, hon. That should cover it.” He helped her up, she sat on his lap, her wounded bottom dangling over his lap. She buried her head in his shoulder sniffling. He rubbed her back. “Ok, hon. You took a good paddling. You need to pull yourself together and get to lunch.” She squeezed him tight and nodded into his shoulder. She sniffled once more and stood. She reached back and ran her fingers over her wounded flesh. “Ooooh. My heinie hurts” She forced a smile through her tears. He stood and placed his forearms on her shoulders.

“I was hard on you because I knew if I wasn’t you’d be even harder on yourself. Accept the fact that you screwed up and paid the price. It is behind you now. Go have a nice launch with your friends.”

“Oh, it’s behind me alright.”

Sometimes a Spanking is just a Spanking

Like the apocryphal saying attributed to Freud: “Sometimes a cigar is just a cigar.” Sometimes a spanking is just a spanking. I don’t mean “just” as an adverb in the sense of “by a very small amount” like just a spanking as opposed to a whipping; I mean it as an adverb 1. “neither more nor less than; exactly.” It is just a spanking, nothing more, nothing less not foreplay, not a prelude to sex, just a punishment.


Such was the case last night. I’d misbehaved. Done things I knew I wasn't supposed to, things I knew would get me punished should I be caught and caught I was. We discussed it - I tried to minimize the behavior because that’s what I do but I didn’t, wouldn’t lie. I don’t lie to him ever. Wheedle, cajole, negotiate? Yes, yes and yes. But never lie. All my efforts fell on deaf ears. I was wrong, we both knew it and we both understood what that meant. He told me to go upstairs; I nodded. He added, unnecessarily, I think he just likes to hear himself say it, that I should "strip to a t-shirt and panties." This has become my punishment uniform since I can crawl right under the covers when the punishment is over. To complete his needless instructions he added that I should wait for him with "my nose in the corner." He was, rightfully, pretty annoyed with me and I knew I would have a substantial wait, he won’t punish me while he’s angry, so I decided to take a quick shower wagering that my bottom would dry before the spanking began. I stripped, showered quickly so he wouldn’t think I was stalling, dried as thoroughly as I could and got dressed. I put on a pair of white cotton panties that covered my bottom but were cut high in the hip elongating my leg and topped them with a pink T-shirt that came to my waist. I brushed out my hair, scowled at my brush for what it’s next function would be, drew a deep breath and headed for the corner. Just next to me, barely visible in my peripheral vision was a wooden,arm less straight backed chair. It is made of real wood, not plywood or press board. It was heavy and substantial and though I sometimes sat and read in it tonight it would be serving the purpose for which it was purchased. It was strong enough to support two people or whatever portion of my weight actually went through the chair while I was positioned over his knee. Our bedroom is on the second floor of our two story home. The corner I was sentenced to is just next to a window that starts at about my shoulder and goes up 36”. The lights were on and though I doubted the neighbor just across the street could see, since their line of sight would be directly into our room, I wondered about someone driving, or walking up the block. Could they see the back of my head? Would they just catch a glimpse or would they slow and watch? There would really be only one explanation of what I was doing? What else? Checking the paint job? Looking for cobwebs? A woman standing stock still with her face buried in a corner for 15, 20, 30 minutes and more could only be there as chastisement. Right? Would that thought even enter a ‘normal’ person’s mind? That a 35 year old professional woman was standing in the corner due to some peccadillo? If they did think that was it because they were subjected or subjected someone else to a similar punishment? Were we not the only couple who maintained the good order and discipline of our home in this fashion? How did I feel if someone did see me and deduce I was being punished? Embarrassed? Yes. Excited? A little. For me the corner time is a punishment in and of itself - not a prelude or epilogue to my punishment. I hate it. He knows this. I distracted myself by imagining various neighbors observing me and correctly concluding why I was standing as I was. I tried to guess their reactions. Pretty, preppy Andrea would be aghast that I allowed myself to be subjected to such humiliation. Big Bob down the block would chuckle and wonder if he should try it with Debbie, his attractive but moody wife. Emily, the wild child of the block married to Jim the accountant, would probably dig it. She flirted with everyone, male or female. I think she would have rather enjoyed spanking or being spanked by me. Jim should try it sometimes for the antics she’s pulled at various neighborhood functions. I actually found myself smiling at some of the imagined responses until I heard his footsteps on the stairs. I straightened up reflexively and tried to pull the hem of the shirt down to cover my butt. No matter how intimate you’ve been with someone it is embarrassing to have them open the door and see you with your nose in the corner and only panties covering your ass. He didn’t say anything, just lifted the heavy chair and carried it to the center of the room where there would be plenty of room for both of us. Then he stopped by vanity and retrieved my brush on his way to retrieve me. He took me gently by the wrist and walked us over to the chair. I studied the carpet. He gently lifted my chin with his knuckle until our eyes met. His look had softened - his eyes had released the anger they’d had when he first discovered my misbehavior. I knew not to misread that softening as a lack of resolve. He placed his wrists on my shoulders. Our eyes were only inches apart and he maintained his stare into mine. I looked away first but then came back to him. “Why Kimberly? Why?” I shrugged, the weight of his arms impeding my movement.

“I don’t know. I just wasn’t thinking.”

“You weren’t thinking or you didn’t think I’d find out?”

“I don’t know. Both?”

“I don’t know either. But I do know what I have to do.” He sighed again and sat in the chair. He motioned for me to stand on his right side. “We’ve discussed this over and over and once I decided the discussions weren’t enough I spanked you. Now apparently that little panty warming I gave you wasn’t enough to deter this misbehavior.” My cheeks clenched of their own volition when he mentioned the ‘panty warming’ ‘panty inferno’ was a more apt description. “Apparently firmer methods are required.” He looked at the brush then back up at me. “Take off your panties.” If having your lover see your pantied bottom is embarrassing, stripping your underwear in front of him is unbearable. My hands trembled as I reached for the waistband. I squeezed my eyes shut as I lifted one leg and then the other to step out of them. I kept my eyes shut as I tossed them on the bed. My body was bare from my hips down. “Kimberly, take a deep breath.” I breathed in through my nose and out through my mouth as he’d taught me. “Again.” I repeated the process and I actually felt a bit calmer. “Kimberly, get over my knee.” I lowered myself across his lap. His feet were planted on the floor, his posture was erect, his back not even touching the chair. He maneuvered me into the correct position, my hips on his right thigh, my ass hanging off the side of his lap, my toes on the floor, my eyes staring down at the carpet. He wrapped his left arm around my bare waist holding me in position. He rested the cool wood of the hairbrush low on my right cheek. “Take one more breath Kim.” I noted his use of the shorter, more affectionate form of my name. I knew he wasn’t mad, he was doing his duty. As I finished exhaling I felt the brush rise from my bottom and then felt the shock of its impact where it had just been resting. I didn't scream, I just gasped refilling my lungs. The next spank landed in the same area but on my left cheek. This spank elicited a loud “Ow!” from my refilled lungs. He continued alternating the spanks between cheeks moving a little higher or a little lower until I had a hot, sore spot on each half of my ass. Despite his clinch I had managed to squirm a little out of the ideal position. He paused to adjust me. The break between blows led to a throbbing in my wounded bottom. I imagined I could feel my pulse in each cheek and each beat of my heart hurt.

“OK. Here we go.” Instead of alternating the spanking between my cheeks he spanked each cheek repeatedly in basically the same spot three, four or five spanks in a row. I held out for a few of these rounds “Oohing and ouching, kicking and squirming but not crying.” Finally I reached my breaking point and tears fell. Next I started sobbing and my body went limp on his lap. He didn’t stop immediately. He slowed his pace and went back to switching sides after each spank but he continued the punishment as I cried. He delivered a few spanks at the top of each thigh extending the burn from my ass to the backs of my legs. Then it was over. He placed the brush on the floor and rubbed my back. “There you go Kim, your spanking is finished.” He ran his fingers up my legs and over my ass. “Yes, it is nice and hot.” He patted my bottom with his hand. “Up you go.” He supported me with his hands on my waist as I got my feet under me. I knew better than to rub my injured derriere and I followed his gaze as he stared at the corner. I returned to the corner but this time rested my head in its angle and finished crying. He came behind me and handed me some tissues. I blew my nose and stood up straighter. He placed a hand on my shoulder and kissed the top of my head. “OK honey. Stand there and think about it for a few minutes. Let the ache in your ass sink in. The next time you think about misbehaving I hope your seat sends a message to your brain and you think better of it. When the bell rings you can brush your teeth and go to bed.” I heard the ratchet of the old fashioned kitchen timer. He could have used his phone but the ticking of the timer engaged still another of my senses and focused my attention on the consequences of my misbehavior. My sight was restricted to the walls converging, my ass simultaneously burned, ached and throbbed, the only sound I could hear was the metronome of the timer. All I could do was stand there and think.

The bell rang. I walked stiff-legged to the bathroom, brushed my teeth and looked over my shoulder at the full length mirror to survey the damage. I was a deep red from the top of my thighs to the lower third of my ass. I ran my fingers over it and felt the heat radiating from it. The skin felt tight and tender. I cupped each cheek and squeezed. It hurt but in a better way - like sticking your tongue into the gum where a recently fallen tooth had resided. I washed my face and blew my nose. I reached back and gave each cheek a final squeeze. I returned to the bedroom and put the chair back in its place. I picked my panties off the floor, put them in the hamper and donned a fresh pair, wincing as the fabric grazed my chastised skin. I retrieved the brush from the bed. I tested its heft. I ran my fingers across the wood back and was surprised and disappointed it had cooled back to room temperature. I thought my butt would have had some lasting impression on the brush. I placed it back on the vanity and crawled between the cool sheets laying on my side. I could still feel my pulse in my buttocks and I winced whenever my backside brushed the cheeks..

Finally he came to bed. Kissed me and held me tight as we drifted off to sleep.

Spanking appointment slip

 For anyone who needs a spanking or knows someone who needs one.