A slippery spanking-- The Punishment

The day of reckoning arrived before either of us expected. Luckily-- or unluckily-- I had an opening almost right away and we decided it was better to get things over with sooner than later.

He arrived promptly at the designated time and we spent a few minutes reviewing the possible consequences of causing a public scene at the airport, everything from causing himself and others embarrassment to the potential career damage that could result from being arrested and charged over the incident. (These days law enforcement tends to take such things rather seriously. Just about everyone has seen news stories about the types of charges filed against unruly people who have "interfered" with the orderly operation of airports and flight crews.)

His eyes grew wider and wider as the lecture continued. With each new point the realization of just how serious his misbehavior had been sunk in more deeply. By them time I had finished he was embarrassed, a bit scared, and thanking his lucky stars that the worst he was getting was a spanking...even if it was going to be a very long, very bad one.

I settled myself in the center of the couch and called him over to me. He crossed the room on obviously shaking legs. He stood before me holding his breath as I undid his belt buckle and pulled down his jeans. He whimpered when my fingers hooked into the elastic band of his shorts. This is the moment he hates: the point of no return. He knows the moment his underwear comes down the waiting is over. There is no more hope of escape. He is being spanked and there is no stopping it. Sure enough, I slid his underpants down his legs and he stood before me exposed and vulnerable, dreading what was to come next.

Oh so gently I guided him down onto my lap and arranged us both into a comfortable position, one that just happened to leave his bottom nice and high across my knees to make an easy target. Still gently, I rubbed his bottom and back, talking in quiet, soothing tones. Spankings go much easier for both of us when I can coax him into relaxing before we start.

We had one last little detail to attend to before getting started. Inspired by something I read on Recidivist's blog, I'd brought out my little digital kitchen timer. As he lay there across my lap, I had PC set it for ten minutes and place it where he could easily watch the seconds tick down during his punishment.

When he was ready he pushed the start button and his spanking began. I tend to start with my hand when giving a spanking, regardless of the reason the boy in question is over my knee. However, for a discipline spanking I do shape my hand a bit differently. I make the blows a bit, or a lot, more forceful and bring them down more quickly. It did not take long to turn his bottom a bright rosy pink. He gasped and yelped as the stinging swats covered his cheeks and the backs of his thighs. He had not had a punishment spanking in some time, and this one was clearly having a big impact on both his bottom and his mind.

After the first two minutes I switched to the implement I'd picked out to finish the OTK spanking. Also inspired by recent reading, I'd gone out to find a pair of plimsolls, or gym slippers for the occasion. The bright red canvas shoes felt heavy for their size. The thick rubber soles had a rough textured bottom that added a burning sting to the thud of each swat. The blows seemed to jolt PC all the way down to his core. Each caused him to arch up as he cried out louder than I'd ever heard.

In fact, the pain of the slipper was so intense that he actually twisted his bottom away from me at one point, something that he hasn't done since the very first time I spanked him years ago. I was not having any of that. I pulled him back towards me, gave him an extra hard slap with the slipper and warned him that if he did such a thing again I'd be getting out the school paddle. "Yes, Ma'am," he yelped as he settled docilely back into position. There was still a bit of kicking and wiggling, but he kept his bottom accessible to me for the rest of his slippering.

After what seemed a very long time the timer finally beeped. I put the shoe down and sat back. PC drooped across my lap, still crying. I gave him some time to regroup, stroking his hair and rubbing his now deep red bottom. He muttered soft apologies for his behavior in between his sobs.

When he had himself back together he got up and we began the second phase of his punishment. I had decided that since his behavior caused so much embarrassment to himself and others it was only fitting that his punishment for it did, too. To that end, I required him to strip completely for the strapping portion of the afternoon. He carefully removed his clothing, folding it all neatly and placing it in a neat stack in the space provided. As he held up his jeans he looked at his belt and then at me.

"Do you want this now?" he asked. I nodded. Very slowly, he pulled his belt free of the belt loops and handed it to me, looking very reluctant about it. His eyes followed the belt as I set it aside and picked up a length of rope. My plan for his strapping required a bit of bondage, partially for just a little extra embarrassment and partially for his safety. I expected he would not be able to help doing just a little bit of thrashing and I did not want any mis-strokes causing him injury. A few quick knots and soon I had his delicate bits packaged safely out of the way. He bent low over my desk chair and I picked up the belt.

Then I waited. Silently I counted off beats of the music while he waited, growing more and more anxious as the seconds passed. Just as he tried to turn to see what was taking so long I raised the belt and brought it down across his bottom. He cried out as his body jerked against the chair, scooting it forward. I pulled the chair back a little further, put him back in position and waited again. Not as long this time, just long enough to make him start to sweat.

CRACK! the belt came down from the other side. Again he jerked, apologizing as the chair moved again. I took a moment to rub his back and soothe him. He settled down and I lined up the belt again.

I gave him a few more spaced out with several seconds in between them, then began to pick up speed. The longer I spanked the harder the blows got. He sobbed deeply as the leather bit into his already sore bottom again and again. There were more pleas and a few promises to behave, but he wasn't quite there yet. The whipping continued until he collapsed across the chair, limp and completely spent.

When time ran out I left him laying across the chair as I worked lotion and a coat of arnica into his skin. I got down close to examine the welts on his bottom. They were bright red and very tender. He moaned as he felt the pressure of my fingers on them.

I guided him back to the couch and laid him back across my lap. With gentle hands, I carefully rubbed some of the heat out of his well whipped bottom. After a few minutes his tears slowed, then stopped.

He still shook a bit as he dressed. He hissed sharply as the fabric of his shorts pressed against the burning welts on his bottom. There was another gasp as the rough fabric of his jeans rubbed against his equally sore thighs. A grimace crossed his face as he sat to put on his shoes and socks. At last he stood up, rubbed his bottom gingerly and thanked me for my attentions. A quick hug and he was on his way, his fresh reminder to behave still burning hotly under his clothes as he drove away.

Ms. Betty