Tuesday, 7 August 2012

'The Spank Shop - Samuel'

That naughty little man Seegee has been ever so busy, he wrote me not one but 3 Spank Shop stories! He says they're one, but he broke them into 3. For that reason I'll post them one by one, each day.
Please enjoy, it's something a little different for the stories, so I do look forward to hearing what people think.

From Clare Fonda Spanking. This is no doubt how young Samuel felt, at least he didn't have an audience like this poor chap.

I retrieved the file from my filing cabinet, looked at the neatly printed name on the front, smiled and then lay it down on the coffee table. I was about to settle into my chair when the phone from reception rang, shattering the stillness of the room.

I lifted it off the cradle, and answered “Yes, Kimmy.” I couldn’t see my teenage receptionist, but I knew she was blushing when I used the childish diminutive of her first name. Her mother had informed me that the girl had decided she should be called Kim or Kimberley from now on. I liked to tease her a little, and I knew she’d never dare admonish me for it, besides I’ve always called her Kimmy.

“Your two o’clock is here, ma’am,” the girl informed me.

I flicked my eyes over to the clock in my parlour, and observed “He’s early, must be eager for his spanking.”

Kimberley giggled delightedly, and replied “I don’t think so, Miss Andrea.”

“Send him right in, sweetheart.”

As I hung up I heard Kimberley say “Aunty will see you now, Sammy.”

I sat down in my armchair by the gently crackling fire, crossed my legs and awaited the boy’s arrival. He shuffled in, head down and brown eyes shyly peeking at me.

I do like Samuel, or Sammy, as we at the Spank Shop prefer to call him. He’s a student at the nearby college on an athletics scholarship. Sammy is tall with broad shoulders, he’s rather handsome and has a mop of floppy black curls. Sammy is one of my regulars, he seems to average a visit a month. He’s one of those people who requires motivation with his studies, and he can also be easily led into doing silly things. From my recent perusal of his file he was here for the latter this late winter afternoon.

“Take a seat please, dear,” I motioned the boy to the couch opposite the table.

Sammy hesitated, and I said sternly “I’d advise you to sit down while you still can, young man.”

The boy gulped, and immediately sat on the edge of the couch, facing me anxiously.

I leaned forward, and picked up the folder I’d placed on the table earlier. I keep files of all my clients. It contains pertinent information like name, age, address, contact details, that sort of thing. It also has notations made by either Kimberley, or I, regarding what the client is being punished for, and what with, sometimes there are comments about how they reacted to certain implements or situations. Sammy’s file is rather thicker than most, which is a testament to how often I see the boy. I’ve even spoken to his parents on occasion, and his mother has expressed the desire to send him to me on his school holidays when he’s not attending college. He’s in his third year now, and I have no idea how he’s going to deal with life when he doesn’t have Aunty Andrea to smack his bottom and put him back on the right track.

I opened the folder, and laid it out over my crossed legs. Sammy nervously moistened his lips with his tongue as I leafed through the pages leisurely. I stopped at the final sheet of paper, and placed a forefinger on it.

“Why were you sent here today, Sammy?” I asked.

“Ummmm…,” the boy started. “Isn’t it in my file, Aunty?”

“You don’t ask the questions here, young man, I do. I want you to tell me why you were sent here. If you make me repeat myself I will become quite cross with you, and you don’t want that, do you, Samuel?”

Sammy shook his head vigorously, his curls whipping from side to side as he did so. “No, ma’am.”

“Then answer the question please, dear.”

“I…uuuhhhh…panty raided the sorority house.”

I dropped my head to hide the smile that flickered across my lips. It was such a college boy prank. Unfortunately for Sammy some of the girls in the sorority had not seen the funny side of it, neither had their housemother, and the boy’s housemaster being aware of our arrangement, had set this appointment up.

“Sammy, why exactly did you steal the girl’s underwear?” I asked.

“It was a frat penalty,” Sammy answered.

“So, it was just you?”

Not trusting himself to speak the boy nodded.

“Sammy you know what happens if you get caught, don’t you?”

Sammy squirmed, and replied in an almost inaudible voice “You spank me, Aunty Andrea.”

“Yes, I do,” I confirmed. “I spank that firm white round bottom until it’s glowing like the fire and is as hot as a stove.”

The boy flinched at the descriptive words.

I looked at the file in my lap “You were last over Aunty’s lap only three weeks ago,” I began. “That’s rather disappointing, Samuel. Can you remember what I did to you then?”

“Hand, hairbrush and paddle, Aunty,” Sammy whispered, wincing with the memory.

“What paddle, darling?”

“My fraternity paddle, ma’am.”

“I don’t suppose you’ve brought that with you today, have you?”

Sammy shut his eyes, trying to hold back tears, and whimpered “No, ma’am.”

“That’s a pity, Aunty will have to use one of her paddles.”

“Not the one with the holes,” the boy pleaded.

“You don’t like Mrs Spencer Paddle, do you, Sammy?”

“No, ma’am, it really hurts.”

‘It’s a paddling you silly boy. You’re not supposed to enjoy it,” I told the visibly distressed college student.

“No, Aunty.”

“I’m sure Miss Kimberley has got an apron ready for you in the change room. Why don’t you go in there and get changed, while Aunty decides what to use on your naughty bottom?”

Sammy nodded sadly, got to his feet and went slowly to the change room door.

“Oh Sammy,” I said almost as an afterthought. “Make sure you look after any business you have in the bathroom. Aunty won’t be happy if there are any accidents over my lap.”

Sammy nodded, and opened the door.

There was a double meaning to my words. People facing a spanking, even adults, can become quite nervous and often need to empty their bladders. The older boys can also be affected in another way, it’s mostly nerves, but once they’re over my lap I want all their attention on the fire I’m lighting on their buttocks, not on what’s happening in the front. They can usually deal with this themselves prior to the spanking.

While my client was in the changing room I got things ready for his chastisement. I fetched one of my Spencer paddles from my cupboard. It was a short one, but thick with plenty of holes, and produced a wicked sting. I also retrieved a bottle of baby oil and placed it on the coffee table. It’s not necessary to oil the bottom before applying the paddle, but I find it adds to the discomfort, burning intensely, and I wanted young Samuel to remember this afternoon for some time. I hoped it would keep him behaved for at least a month.

I was seated in the middle of the couch, smoothing out my skirt when the boy emerged shyly from the changing room. I don’t know how Kimberley does it, but she has a knack of picking out the most humiliating aprons possible for the clients. Seeing a big, strong college athlete wearing an apron emblazoned with the Disney version of Tigger on it is quite something. I find it highly amusing, and I’m sure Sammy was positively mortified, the bright shade of red suffusing his cheeks when he saw my broad grin certainly hinted at that. Kimberley adores Disney. I’m sure that left to her own devices the girl would stock the wardrobe where I keep the spanking aprons entirely with Disney themed garments.

“Well, don’t we look, pretty?” I cooed at Samuel, whose blush intensified to the point where I thought his face may burst into flames.

“Yes, ma’am,” he mumbled.

“I hope you thanked Miss Kimberley for providing you with such a lovely clean apron with pictures of that naughty little Tigger all over it.”

“Yes, ma’am, I did,” Sammy murmured, eyes on his toes.

“Did Miss Kimberley have to smack you, or were you a good boy for her, getting yourself undressed and going potty without having to be told?”

“Was a good boy,” Sammy confirmed.

I marveled at how putting them in the apron, and talking to them as if they were much younger always seemed to turn my adult clients into naughty five year olds.

“Aunty is pleased about that,” I told the boy. “Now we have to have a chat about what you did, sweetheart.”

Sammy hung his head, and hunched his shoulders.

“You knew stealing the girls panties was wrong, didn’t you?”

“Yes ma’am,” he said.

“Look at me when I am speaking to you, Samuel!” I reprimanded the boy, and his head rose. “If you knew what you did was wrong then why did you do it?”

“It was a challenge,” he replied.

“So, if the other boys challenged you go into a burning building, would you?”

“No, ma’am.”

I shook my head and said sternly “By the time I am done with you Samuel, I think you’re going to be wishing you had gone into a burning building, because your bottom is most certainly going to be on fire!”

Sammy swallowed hard, and shuddered.

For my part I was actually quite eager to get him over my lap. He has the most gorgeous firm, round white bottom, and it’s a challenge and a delight to spank it to a hot glowing cherry red.

“Come and stand by Aunty’s lap, please Sammy,” I ordered the boy.

He shuffled over to me, although because he was only wearing the apron he could walk normally. I think the shuffling is a bit of a reflex memory from his childhood spankings, when his mother told me she generally lowered his jeans and underpants to his ankles, and left them that way when she put him in the corner after smacking his bottom. I’m rather hoping I can get both of them here over the summer break, and we can give Sammy a dual spanking. Even big boys can still benefit from the occasional journey over Mummy’s lap.

I looked up at his saddened brown eyes, he was such a beautiful boy,  an absolute dream to spank. “Do you have anything to say before your spanking, Samuel?”

“I’m sorry.”

“Well, I’m certain that you are, sweetness, but it’s not me you should be apologizing to, it’s the girls from the sorority. Your actions both embarrassed and inconvenienced them. When you leave the shop this afternoon you are going to pay a visit to the sorority house, you will make an apology to the girls and their housemother, and you will offer to do some work around the house to make restitution. Am I understood?”

“Yes, Aunty,” Sammy said, trying to avoid my gaze.

“I will check, Samuel. If I find out you did not do as I told you, then you will be coming back here. You will be cutting a switch, and I’ll invite the girl’s housemother and the sorority president to watch, too.”

Sammy gasped, he knew that I’d make good on the promise if he did not do as I had ordered. Despite how easily led and irresponsible he could be, at heart he was a good boy, so I doubted I’d have to follow through on the threat.

“Very well then, over Aunty’s lap,” I ordered.

Sammy lowered himself over my thighs, and I moved him into position with the occasional gentle slap to thighs or buttocks to get him where I wanted him. His height meant that the couch supported his legs and torso, but his feet and head both stretched out over the end of the sofa.

Once I had that lovely white bottom nestled in the centre of my lap, I took full advantage of it. Samuel has the most perfectly formed round white posterior. The boy could have modeled for Michaelangelo’s David, however unlike the famous sculpture, Samuel’s rear end was not made of marble, and would definitely react to the palm of my hand and acquire the most marvelous shade of red after it’s application. For the moment I admired the boy’s derriere, and contented myself by fondling, caressing and gently squeezing his perfect alabaster globes. Sammy squirmed a little as I did it, but he didn’t say anything or make any noise. Despite how much I knew he wanted to get his spanking over and done with, he was still content for me to put it off as long as possible. Some playtime with the bottom also helps the client to relax, and I prefer to commence the chastisement on a loose, untensed set of cheeks. Relaxing the buttocks also helps to reduce the possibility of bruising, not to mention being easier on my hand.

I lifted my hand, tightened my grip around Sammy’s slim waist, and raised my arm so that my palm was poised flat over the boy’s bottom in perfect spanking position. The first slap rang out loudly around the room, easily making itself heard over the gentle crackle of the fire. As a pink handprint bloomed on Sammy’s left hemisphere, he gasped, and just as he felt the full impact I planted a twin on his right buttock. I spaced out the first six slaps, making sure that his crowns, upper and lower buttocks got a good firm smack, and his entire bottom was suffused with a soft sea shell pink. This done, I settled into a steady rhythm. Spanking hard and steadily, neither too fast or slow, I was careful to make sure that Sammy felt each slap, and it didn’t take long before he was wriggling quite vigorously and making plenty of oowws and ouches as the sting and heat built in his gyrating hindquarters. I applied a volley to his upper thighs, which got him yelling, and started his legs waving around. If I had wanted to be a bit cruel I could have insisted that he keep his legs still. That position was quite painful and very hard to hold as it didn’t allow the recipient any respite from the waves of heat being applied to their roasting rumps. Sammy was a lovely glowing hot red by the time I felt my hand beginning to numb, and he’d been sufficiently warmed. I could also hear him fighting to hold back the tears, and with an experienced spankee like young Mr Jensen, that’s a good sign. I wanted him simmering before proceeding to the next step, and he’d been brought to the boil with my hand. I paused, shook my hand to get some feeling back into it, and listened to Sammy take in deep breaths as he composed himself for the rest of what he knew would be a long and searching punishment for a fairly childish prank.

“Up you get!” I told Sammy, and he levered himself awkwardly off my lap and stood by my knee. I noticed that he kept his hands at his sides, but they were flexing, and I knew he desperately wanted to rub his stinging backside. It’s best to nip that in the bud before they have the opportunity to act on the impulse, so I said “If you even think of rubbing your bottom young man I’ll have you fetch The Igniter from the cupboard and you can have a dose of that on top of everything else!”

The boy’s eyes went wide and he flinched. Those of my clients who are acquainted with the long, thick, broad length of black leather that has been christened The Igniter have no wish to continue the relationship. Sammy has felt it once, and doesn’t want to feel it again. The threat would at least prevent him from rubbing his aching rear until he was given permission.

There was another item on the coffee table that Sammy had not seen. It was a rather innocuous looking thing, an old-fashioned wooden school ruler. Anyone who went to school in my day knows all about them. They’re a foot long with both inches and centimetres marked on them, they’re thin, and can sting like fury when applied firmly to the backs of legs or an unprotected bottom.

“Bring me the ruler, please Sammy,” I ordered.

I could see puzzlement in his brown eyes. He had thought that the second and final part of chastisement would be the paddle that lay on the table. Ordinarily would have been, but this was the second time in a month he had come to see me, so I felt he needed a very stern lesson.

The boy did not argue or offer any comment, but picked up the ruler, holding it rather gingerly. That gentle grip made me laugh. It wasn’t going to bite him, at least not until it was in my hand and he was back over my lap.

“Hand it to me, please,” I commanded.

I curled my hand around the ruler and saw Sammy shudder.

“Back over Aunty’s lap, sweetie.”

With a blush at the ‘sweetie’, Sammy got back into position over my lap. He obediently lifted his legs up and settled his upper body onto the couches other end. “Well done!” I complimented him with a hearty slap to his still glowing rear end.

I lifted the ruler and aimed it, before delivering a blistering barrage to Sammy’s rosy thighs and bottom. He was soon roaring as the thin slat of wood peppered his hindquarters. The tears started to flow in earnest as I attacked his legs, moving the ruler up from his knee hollows all the way up to the top of his buttocks. His backside was pumping up and down and rolling from side to side in a desperate attempt to avoid the ruler. What the spanked children don’t realize is that by moving their rumps around like that all they do is give me fresh areas to blister.

When Sammy was glowing again and I could actually feel the waves of heat emanating from the backs of his legs and he lay limply across my lap, just bawling, I decided he was sufficiently warmed up and ready for the paddle. “Sammy,” I said softly, but loud enough to be hard over his sobs. “You can get up now, sweetheart.”

Sammy blubbered.

“Did you hear me, darling?”  I asked gently.

“Yyes Aunty,” he stammered.

“Do you want Aunty to help you up?”

“Yes please.”

I smiled at that; grown boys were so cute when they’d been reduced to crying little children by a sound spanking. I put my arms around Sammy’s waist, luxuriating for a moment in the heat I could feel rising from his superheated buttocks onto my breasts. I lifted and Sammy rose up in response to the pressure. I got him onto his feet and held his hands to his sides while he stood in front of me, tears trickling down his face and his nose running. He sniffled noisily. I clucked my tongue and took a tissue from a box on the table next to the couch. I held it up to Sammy’s nose and cleaned his face up a little. “Can I dance please, Aunty?” Sammy asked in between sobs.

When the boy had first started coming to me he would have simply done the hot bottom boogie, without asking permission, and that would have earned him extra smacking. I was pleased that he had learned to ask me for my permission. “You may, Sammy,” I acceded to his request,” but stop when Aunty tells you, or else she may have to put you back over her lap.”

Sammy nodded gratefully and his hands flew to his roasting backside. I watched indulgently as he danced around the room, trying to rub the sting and heat out. I had also noticed that he had looked at the table with the paddle and baby oil on it. His punishment wasn’t done yet, and he knew it. By allowing him to have a dance and a rub at this point I had actually confused him, because it wasn’t something I generally did.

Once I’d had my view of Sammy I cleared my throat, and said clearly “Alright, sweetheart, that’s enough rubbing. Get your nose into a corner, and Aunty will call for you when she’s ready.”

Sammy’s dance ceased, but his hands hovered over his buttocks “Sammy,” I said sternly. “Unless you want a taste of the tawse young man you’ll put those hands on your head and get into the corner.”

The boy’s shoulders slumped, but he did as he was told. I called Kimberley for fresh tea, and admired my handiwork as the college student’s cheeks twitched fetchingly in the corner. Kimberley arrived with a pot of tea, and after she had set it down on the table near me stayed to get herself an eyeful of Sammy’s crimson bottom and thighs. “He reddens up beautifully, ma’am,” she told me.
I poured myself a cup of tea, sipped and nodded.

My empty cup settled into its saucer with a gentle click “Sammy,” I said to the sobbing boy in the corner. “Turn around and look at Aunty, please. Leave your hands on your head, dear.”

Sammy turned slowly and sniffled to try and stem his tears.

“There’s a paddle on the table, sweetheart, and a bottle of baby oil. Bring them to me, please.”

A shudder went through the boy as he looked at the items on the table. He had felt the Spencer paddle before and he did not like it, the holes made it particularly painful. I had oiled his bottom before, but that was prior to a strapping, he knew what it felt like and was imagining how much it would intensify the Spencer paddle’s sting.

He picked up both the paddle and the baby oil gingerly and brought them to me. I took them from him and set them aside with thanks. “You know what to do, sweetheart,” I said. “Assume the position.”

Sammy nodded sadly, and bent himself over the back of the sofa.

“Good boy!” I complimented him. “Legs straight, bottom up nice and high, legs apart, Aunty wants to oil all of your cheeks.”

I upended the bottle of oil and squeezed a pool of it onto the palm of my hand. I gently slathered Samuel’s upthrust buttocks with the oil until it was glistening with a thin film. I stood back and wiped my hand on a towel, while admiring the boy’s rear end. It looked like it had a fresh coat of scarlet shellac applied to it.

I picked up the paddle and stood behind the boy. The last time I had paddled Sammy it had been done with his fraternity paddle. It was both larger and heavier than this particular Spencer paddle, but I felt Mrs Spencer Paddle, as I had named this implement, would hurt more because of the holes and the oil. I lined Sammy’s bottom up and let fly.

CRACK! The impact of the paddle rang out around the room and elicited a howl from Sammy, it also drove him onto his toes. As he sank back into the back of the couch he stammered out “Oone thank you, ma’am.”

“Aren’t you adorable?” I smiled. “There’s no need to count, darling. Aunty will do that and let you know when she’s done.”

“Thank you, Miss,” Sammy whimpered.

My answer was another stinging stroke of the wicked paddle to Sammy’s glowing rump. The paddle cracked out loudly, and Sammy wailed and kicked his legs. I had to stop once to put a hand on the small of his back to make sure he didn’t fall off the back of the couch. Honestly, boys can be such babies sometimes!

Sammy’s bottom was a deep, throbbing crimson, and the oil had been burned away, by the time I decided he was done. I let him blubber and assessed the state of his backside. He was well and truly roasted. I couldn’t be sure, but I think his rear end may have been slightly swollen. He was going to sit very carefully for the next few days.

I helped the boy to his feet, and held him while he sobbed into my shoulder. “You may dance for a little when I let you go, sweetheart,” I whispered into his ear, just before I released him from my embrace. I stood by and watched indulgently as he hopped around, hands furiously rubbing his scorched buttocks. “You won’t be able to quench the fires entirely, darling.” I told Samuel.

He stopped dancing, swallowed his sobs and faced me, tears still trickling down his face, and his nose was running. His face was smeared with a mixture of tears, snot and saliva. I took him gently by the arm and used a tissue to clean his face. I held another tissue to his nose and instructed “Blow.”

Samuel blew noisily into the tissue, and I disposed of it.

“Sammy,” I told the thoroughly miserable young man. “I’ve decided that due to the public embarrassment you caused the girls in the sorority that you can finish your corner time in the waiting room.”

Sammy’s brown eyes showed his disappointment.

“Now give Aunty a kiss, and Miss Kimberley will make sure you do your time in the corner and let you know when you can leave.”

“Thank you Aunty Andrea,” Sammy told me, and bussed my cheek.

“My pleasure, darling.”

I sent Sammy on his way with a healthy smack to his bare glowing red bottom, and as I resumed my seat and poured another cup of tea, I could hear Kimberley ordering the boy into the corner and telling him to put his nose to the wall and his hands on his head. Finding a job you love doing is one of the best things that can ever happen to you.


  1. And Aunty is SO good at her job too... Poor Sammy. I wait with bated breath for the next installment... ;-)


  2. I could almost feel your hand, and ruler, and I really squirmed when you applied the oil and paddle.

    Ans I too can't wait for the rest!!!


  3. Thank you Phil and James. The next part of this should be up later today. James, you obviously know how the paddle feels on an oiled bottom, dear.

  4. I have first hand experience of how Aunties ebony hairbrush feels on an oiled bottom, I can only imagine how much worse the Spencer paddle would feel. A really lovely story Aunty Andrea, I really hope mommy does not read this story as she will definitely try this on me next time I go over her lap.


  5. Glad that you read and enjoyed, Mario. I do hope you don't deprive Marta of the experience of reading it, from memory she too enjoys reading the stories.

  6. Wow. Amazing edition and can't wait for the next one. Wonderful hot reading while on vacation.

  7. Glad to help your vacation along, Ron.