pc made a little mistake recently. Not a horrible crime, but an error in judgment that, after a bit of reflection, even he agreed needed tending to.
Unfortunately, the course of these things never does run smooth. Bad weather, a nasty cold on my part and very jammed schedules on both ends made finding time to get him spanked near impossible. Then just when we had a date tentatively set came the unwelcome news that I would be working my usual day off.
Two years ago this would have been a disaster, an insurmountable obstacle that would lead to one of our famous implosions. But this isn't two years ago (thankfully) and though it took a bit of juggling we got it worked out fairly easily. pc agreed to stay late one evening and I agreed to meet him in his office after work.
I never have been able to resist teasing him though, especially when he's in a bit of trouble. This was no exception. Before long I was taunting him about being kept after like a misbehaving schoolboy. Then a wicked thought struck me. As long as he was staying after like a schoolboy he ought to get the proper schoolboy treatment.
You see, pc has always been fascinated by the idea of being kept in detention. We've talked about it for years with the understanding that should the right opportunity come along we'd make use of it. It wasn't any good to do it just to do it, though. It would have to be part of a very real punishment. As he's not in trouble very often these days the right opportunity took awhile to come along, but it looked like it had.
He was nervous, but a bit excited about the idea. He had to agree it was all too perfect. The premise was simple, he was to spend the half hour before our meeting sitting on his discipline chair with his pants down writing lines as he waited for me.
I ended up being a little early, but he kept working on the lines, frantically scribbling as he watched the clock, both hoping for the tedium to end and dreading what would come when it did. At last he finished the last repetition. He pushed the sheets of paper tentatively across the desk and began shaking out the cramps in his hands as I checked them.
When we'd set up the detention pc had made the unfortunate discovery that his office blinds did not provide any privacy after dark so we moved to the small hallway outside his inner office. He set the chair in the middle of the hall and I sat down. In a quiet whisper I repeated once again why he was about to end up with a very sore bottom. He whispered back remorseful apologies, pleading with his eyes for me to be merciful.
I put a dog toy in his mouth to muffle his cries and pulled his pants back down. He moaned a little as I pulled him in place over my lap. I asked if he was ready, watching the back of his head as he nodded.
The spanking started with a small black leather whip. Deadly silent like everything I use in his office, the tails flicked quickly across his skin, leaving bright red lines in their wake. He kicked his feet a bit, gasping and moaning through the rubber baseball glove in his mouth.
We didn't have much time, and while the whip made for a good warm up I had to move on to something with a little more sting. I picked up the heart of fire and began spanking again, a bit harder and faster than I had with the whip. The "heart" is made from two thick loops of spiraling plastic that overlap, leaving burning heart shaped welts where it lands. Of all my silent implements of discipline it may be the one pc hates the most. He bucked and writhed on my lap, yelping despite biting down on the toy. Tears came quickly, his back shaking with the sobs. I continued with the heart, covering his bottom with fiery hearts until his skin was solid red.
I put the heart down and began rubbing pc's hot, sore bottom. His sobbing continued for some time as I gently stroked and muttered comfort. At last his breathing returned to normal and he quietly got to his feet.
I continued to squeeze and stroke, rubbing away the sting as he reached to hug me...
Ms. Betty
