Don Barton Spanking Tales, Book 1

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You do?” she looked up at him fearfully. “Oh God, no,” she prayed, “please don’t let him issue a summons.” Soon her bottom was a lovely red, spreading down to her upper thigh. Mummy remembered the sit spot and how it stung, so delivered ten right across the point where her voluptuous cheeks joined her thighs. How they bounced, sinking in, then springing up instantly, and how she wriggled trying to pull free of the pain. But Mummy held her firmly, a tight grip around her waist holding the hand that tried to protect her. This annoyed Mummy, she was in mid flow! After she gave me the last stroke, she replaced her paddle in the drawer and told me I had a few minutes to reflect before I received the strap. She walked out of the room and I lay there clenching my poor cheeks trying to relieve some of the sting. Some choice! I was going to be spanked either way! My choice was to submit to my fiancé, or be humiliated by having to drop my pants and let her watch my mom reduce me to a sniveling, sobbing 10 year old. Maybe Lisa wouldn’t be too hard on me, so I said, “Ok. You win!”

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I’ll stop when I’m good and ready,” she told me, “and for the next few days you’re going to think about why you got this whipping every time you sit down.” She gave me another thirty or so swats before she laid her paddle on the table and said, “that should be warm enough. Now I want you to get up and go in the bedroom. I’ll be in in a couple of minutes, and you know how I want you.”“Yes ma’am,” I replied standing up. “Tell me,” she demanded, wanting to hear it from me. Slowly, I crawled across her lap and was no sooner in position then the paddle landed, hard. And it kept landing hard. This was no ordinary warm up. She meant business and my bottom was on fire after only a few swats. If this was the warm up, I wasn’t looking forward to what was going to happen on the bench. She has a wide variety of paddles, straps, canes and switches from which to choose for the real punishment, and she knows how to use them all. All the words looked so official, having been typed by the school secretary. And signed by her teacher in ‘Quink’ blue, fountain pen ink.After drying off, I dressed in my uniform and walked into the living room where she was waiting to begin my punishment. She was sitting on the couch holding her small paddle and she smiled when she saw the condition I was in. “I don’t think you’re going to find this whipping all that exciting,” she said as I stood before her. “This one won’t be fun, but if you’re still hard when I’m finished, I just might make use of it.” Patting her lap she said, “you know where to go, don’t make me tell you.” He did as she instructed, and put himself in the corner, with his trousers and undershorts in a pool at his feet. In this situation five or ten years ago, he might have been seething with injustice—the bank teller made a mistake, and then he got grounded, and now here he was about to get paddled and then – horribly, to receive a caning, too. But, now, he put aside his ego, and focused on humility. His ranting was childish and the silent treatment was suicidal. What had he been thinking? And now he was going to get what he deserved. He felt foolish, guilty, and ashamed. A few tears came to his eyes and then rolled down his cheeks. The promised storm arrived on one fateful Spring day. Confidence had grown into over confidence. Self confidence into haughtiness. Pubic hairs had covered her soft pubescent bone, fingers had delved, conversations with friends on the delight of a fingered pussy had taken place. It was one such conversation that made her not even notice her form teacher walk into the classroom. She carried on talking to Barbara, instead of standing up with the rest, to say in a slightly singing way, “Good Morning Miss Weltwell.” Corpun file 7213 at www.corpun.com Dublin Evening Mail, 10 August 1937 To-day's Letters To The Editor "Spanked"

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It was then that the recent thought of the normality beyond the house returned, and Mummy noticed the bedroom window open. It was a secret no more, the sound of this spanking would travel! In a strange way it encouraged Mummy. Who stopped. Since tomorrow is your day off don’t expect to be doing anything other than what I tell you,” she informed me. Do you understand?”“Yes ma’am,” I replied, knowing I was in trouble and deserved it. When she wants to, she can give me a spanking that leaves my ass sore for days, but I’d never made her this mad before. I wasn’t looking forward to tomorrow, I was unaware she planned to start tonight.I get my manhood in my hand, and stroke as I listen. I hear the rustle of paper, the removal of some clothing, and little words….and then…

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Jeez, I did exactly what you told me to. Why can’t you ever be satisfied? Maybe you should say ‘Thanks, Steve, for doing my banking.’ Or do it yourself.” It does not mean tomorrow, Miss Parks, it means the indefinite tomorrow. It’s the way a Spaniard tells you to get stuffed.” Hot tubs have added to the spanking potential as alll people seem to do in them is eat , drink and have sex …so why not spank?Sarah sat outside the office nervously, more nervous than she’d ever been in her life. She’d been stupid ever to consider borrowing the money in the first place; what had been wrong with her old job? It hadn’t been that poorly paid, and she’d been paid every week without fail, that was one of the benefits of working for a large company. At first the idea of working for herself had sounded so attractive: just the thought of being her own boss, not having some stuffed shirt or silly little fart telling her what to do had been enough to lure her into it. But of course, it wasn’t that simple. Being your own boss did mean more freedom; it also meant more responsibility. No coming in late or you’d lose customers, and if you took a day off, you didn’t get paid at all. I wouldn’t say that. If you phrased it that you hurt my feelings yesterday by treating me like an incompetent, and then you grounded me unfairly, I would agree with that statement.” A formidable no nonsense women. Her standing in the community was the fuel that drove her on. At Christmas she probably had to do without, to provide a lovely Christmas for her daughter. She was the woman you went to to get something done, Tombolas, Raffles, Carol Concerts to name a few. In short, she was a very much loved and respected member of the village community. I offer her a spanking present, which will be a mystery gift. We discuss our next steps. She leaves, happy and excited.