A Good Hard 50

At the stroke of 6, he timidly knocked on my door.

I smiled as I waited for him to remember my instructions to simply walk right on in when he arrived.  Perhaps he was worried I’d ambush him or maybe he was more interested in delaying his punishment for a few extra seconds by stalling in front of my door.

In he stepped, the purple lights that illuminated my studio changed the mood and setting the tone for what was to come. 15 feet in front of him I waited for him impatiently, seated in my ominous high backed chair, which to him could mean only one thing. I didn’t need to say a word at all, in fact, that was my plan… he was here for one purpose alone and that was to be punished for the contents of an email he mistakenly sent me earlier that day.

He was quick to put down his belongings and approach me with his feeble apology. I still don’t know why anyone bothers to babel away with excuses when they get to this point. I’ve never spared anyone when I’ve decided they needed to be correction, in fact – I always add a few extra swats for this pathetic display depending on how lengthy and cringe inducing their apology actually is. After only a brief moment, I ordered him to silence and pointed towards my wall of implements, instructing him to select 3, any 3 he’d like. Naturally, I’d already removed anything that could be described as ‘light’ or ‘mild’ leaving behind only instruments designed to make sitting very uncomfortable for the next few days. 

To my surprise, he reached right for a nice thick sorority paddle, thoroughly examining the weight in his hands before offering it over for my approval. The feel of the wood was incredibly satisfying as I took it in my grip. I have so many fond memories attached to this particular paddle that even handling it floods me with visions how lovely playmates bent over, eagerly waiting in anticipation for the next smack to land on their exposed skin.

Without further instruction, he approached my spanking horse and unbuttoned his pants. The look of his business attire seemed almost silly in contrast to the positioning of his body over my horse. I took a moment to enjoy this visual – such a pulled together man when in the outside world, and now I’m about to discipline him like a naughty little boy. I ripped his underpants down to his ankles and started in on him immediately. 

Before he arrived, I had decided he’d receive 50 very firm swats…but for each squirm, moan, protest or attempt to cover his ass with his hand, I’d start the count again from the beginning. Did I bother to share this with him? No, of course not! 

My only warning was to hold perfectly still and simply accept what was coming to him, showing restraint now would cut his punishment down significantly. This of course should have been common sense…

While the first 20 or so smacks were delivered he managed to keep reasonably still with only a few winces and twisted facial expressions. His skin was beginning to grow warm and very pink, not nearly enough for my taste I mused as he inevitably reached up to shield his naked skin from me. 

“Ah… I see you’ll need some help taking your spanking.” I hissed, grabbing him off the horse and dragging him back several feet to the middle of the room. He was trying to hard to maintain his dignity while still giving the appearance of contrition… the confusing mix of emotions I watched him experience was absolutely delightful. Fortunately for me, I know this man very well and humbling him is something I can do without a second thought. I leaned in close and whispered into his ear ” bend over, spread your legs and grab your ankles.” He hated this position in particular, but in the way you hate being forced to take exactly what you deeply crave. It made him feel so exposed physically and emotionally..and the simple fact that I knew this was unbearable to him.

Once in a more proper pose, I continued his paddling. Pink welts turned to streaks of red and finally a bit of purple as his naked ass began to sting furiously under the heat of each stroke. He couldn’t help but lose himself as I carried on, finishing all 50 smacks. When I was done, as our tradition stands, I took a photo of his ass… it serves as a warning when his behavior starts to get a little out of line. Although, as was the case today, I’m beginning to think it also serves to encourage him to act out and earn a position over my horse. humm…