From Boys Boarding School. Malcom tries to soothe his well spanked bottom.
This one is from Clare Spanks Men. Aunty Andrea has summoned you over her lap!
And again from Clare Spanks Men. A little scolding during the spanking, just to make the point.
The neatly dressed man in his early thirties stopped outside the innocuous looking shop front. He glanced up at the shingle swinging gently in the fresh breeze that whistled down the quiet suburban shopping strip, picked up the recently fallen autumn leaves and swept them merrily down the gutters and across the pavement.
The words The Spank Shop was picked out in bold old-fashioned script on the wooden shingle. The man sighed, clamped down on the rising tingle in his bottom, patted his hair into place, took a deep breath and pushed the door open.
The bell above the door jingled brightly as he entered and the attractive blonde teenager seated behind a desk looked away from her computer monitor, flashed a dazzling smile and said cheerfully, “Hello Mr Deveson. You’re a little early. Aunty is just finishing up with her current client. Would you like to take a seat and can I get you something to drink? Tea, coffee?”
Malcolm Deveson returned the girl’s smile and answered politely, “Thank you Miss Kimberley, but no I don’t require a drink. You don’t have to call me Mr you know, Malcolm is fine.”
The girl nodded. “I’m not allowed to call the adults by their first name unless they say so, so thank you for that Mr…,” she blushed. “I mean Malcolm. How are you? How is business?”
Malcolm settled onto one of the chairs in reception, and answered, “I’m good, business is well…busy. How are you, ma’am?”
“Good, too and we’re really busy. You’ve caught us at one of our quietest times. We’re booked solid after you.”
The Spank Shop’s adolescent receptionist had to admit that she really liked Malcolm Deveson. He was always polite to her and he called her Miss Kimberley and ma’am without having to be told to. Very few of the shop’s regular adult clients did that. Even some of the older teens had to be reminded to show her the proper respect. He also allowed her to use his first name, although after a recent painful experience over the lap of the shop’s proprietress Andrea Mahoney, who Kimberley, as well as many of the clients, generally called Aunty Andrea, she never used adult clients first names without permission.
Malcolm looked through the selection of magazines on the table next to him and was unable to find anything of interest. He raised a hand and said, “Miss Kimberley?”
“Yes, Malcolm,” the girl replied.
“May I visit the bathroom?”
“Of course sweetie,” the receptionist beamed. “You know where it is. Please remember to wash your hands after you’re done.”
Malcolm nodded and headed to relieve himself.
The door to the facilities had just clicked shut when another one, the door that led to Andrea’s parlour, swung open. A tall, weeping blonde girl wearing a long neck to knee apron, that left the back bare for easy access, emerged. “Oh Jenny,” Andrea’s voice followed the crying nineteen year old. “You can’t still want to rub. It was only a tawseing and I did let you rub a little.”
“Yes, ma’am,” the girl sobbed, moving her hands away from her strawberry red rear end.
“Can you pop her in the corner for a bit, please Kim?” Andrea asked her employee.
“Of course ma’am,” Kimberley replied, rising from her chair and putting an arm around Jennifer Travers heaving shoulders to lead her to a corner. “Hands on head please, Jenny,” she ordered. “You can have a bit of cool down time here until Mummy Gloria comes to pick you up. I’ll even get you a nice hot cuppa if you want. That always settles me a little after a good smack bottom.”
Andrea stood framed in the doorway to her parlour. She was dressed in a dark dress, her tall, willowy form looked imposing. Her legs were slightly apart, her luxurious chestnut locks around her face, the green eyes still stern, one fist was on her hip and the tawse that had just superheated Jennifer Travers’ glowing backside hung from her other hand.
“Is Malcolm here yet?” the professional disciplinarian asked.
“Oh yes, ma’am,” Kimberley answered. “He’s in the bathroom at present.”
“Oh that was thoughtful of him,” Andrea murmured. “Send him in once he emerges.”
Malcolm reappeared in reception. He was about to say something to Kimberley when he was distracted by the sound of Jennifer’s crying and glanced across at her. Andrea had never made him do public corner time, probably in deference to his age and adult status. Seeing Jennifer’s brightly glowing bottom he was very glad of that. Not only could anyone who entered the shop see the girl, she was also visible through the window by any passersby.
Kimberley cleared her throat ostentatiously and Malcolm started, looking rather guiltily at the girl. “If you can tear your eyes away from Jennifer’s bottom,” the receptionist said through pursed lips. “Miss Andrea is ready for you now, young man.”
Malcolm nodded, and keenly aware of Kimberley’s bright blue eyes on him, scurried through to Andrea’s parlour. Kimberley waited until the door shut and then said to Jennifer, “I’ll get your tea now Jenny. Don’t you dare rub while I’m gone, either.”
Andrea was seated in an armchair by a crackling fire, her long nylon sheathed legs were crossed and a thick manila folder rested on one thigh.
Malcolm’s soft brown eyes met the woman’s glittering jade ones and he swallowed hard, his mouth had gone suddenly dry.
Malcolm Deveson had not grown up in Clarkstown, he had come to the old-fashioned town from another state and because he worked in web design he was able to work from home and this enabled him to pursue a gentler small town lifestyle in the friendly, welcoming community of Clarkstown.
Although his parents had never said it, Malcolm had always thought he was an unexpected child. His parents were both successful and very career driven, they had little time for a child in their lives. The boy spent more time with nannies and childcare workers than he ever did with his parents. They were concerned with how well he did at school, but they didn’t understand the concept of discipline and as a result he got away with far more than most of his friends.
He had one particular school friend when he was twelve. That friend’s mother had taken a keen interest in the welfare of the almost parentless boy, and he spent most days after school with his friend. The mother usually fed him and then dropped him off at his house after dinner.
She was a spanking Mum. If her children were naughty they got their bottoms smacked. Malcolm was generally well behaved and he didn’t want to do anything to upset his friend’s gentle, caring, but strict mother.
There was one incident however, and on that occasion the woman scolded both boys, lowered her son’s pants and underpants, then turned him over her knee for a sound spanking. Malcolm watched, his eyes growing wider and wider with each spank. As his friend stood sobbing and apologizing to his mother with his bright red bottom on display, the woman told Malcolm, “I hope this is a lesson to you, young man. I don’t have permission to spank you, but if there is a repeat of this then I will obtain that permission and you can join Robbie in the red bottom club.”
Malcolm did desperately want to become a member of that club, but he was scared to upset Robbie’s mother and Robbie didn’t much want another spanking. The family moved away soon after, and Malcolm was considered too old to spank.
He had a teenage babysitter that threatened to spank him, but never followed through, unless you counted one night when she had planted a few playful smacks on the seat of his pajamas with the threat of a proper one if he didn’t settle down and do as told. He settled and she never spanked him.
The young man drifted through school and effortlessly achieved high marks. He was too shy to try out for a fraternity at college and while he did hear about one sorority that supposedly paddled it’s members he felt the girls in it were well out of his league and didn’t even attempt to talk to them.
One day he chanced to see a spanking website and came to realize that he was not alone in being and adult who wanted to be spanked. He visited a couple of professional dominatrixes and while they tried hard and left him with a hot smarting bottom it was not the experience he craved. The professionals tended to embody the latex, whip wielding cliché, although one did dress more sedately for him, and their premises were dimly lit, dungeons, not the cozy living rooms he remembered from childhood.
Slowly Malcolm came to the realization that he would never be truly able to get what he wanted and this led him to becoming depressed. He handled it with the use of medication and regular therapy, then he moved to Clarkstown.
The relocation, while it certainly improved his life, also forced him to find a new therapist. Rosalie Sutcliffe was a qualified psychologist who didn’t mind using alternative methods. She was also a mother and often treated her clients in a rather maternal manner. It was to Dr Sutcliffe, she had told him repeatedly to call her Rosalie, but he just couldn’t do it, that Malcolm opened up about his childhood and needing to be spanked.
The condition was not unknown to the psychologist, but Malcolm was the first client she had ever encountered who felt that way. She did admit to herself that sometimes he behaved like a naughty child, and she suspected that some of the things he confessed to doing were an attempt to get her to spank him.
Rosalie Sutcliffe was not anti spanking by any means. She did actually smack her own children at times, and she considered giving Malcolm a spanking to see if that would help him, but eventually decided against it. She knew he would never report her or inadvertently tell anyone, but if she spanked him in the office someone would hear. At the very least it would be the receptionist. Maria was a pro spanking mother as well, but she did have loose lips.
Then one day while having her hair done at the salon next to Andrea Mahoney’s Spank Shop, Rosalie had a thought. After she had finished her hairdo she went next door and arranged to speak to Andrea. She came out convinced that the beautiful brunette could give Malcolm exactly what he needed.
The idea was floated with Malcolm, he agreed to at least test the waters and an appointment was made for her and Malcolm to visit Andrea. That visit concluded with a bare bottomed Malcolm sobbing in a corner after Andrea’s hand and ebony hairbrush had visited fire to every inch of his posterior as he kicked and wailed over her thighs, while Andrea and Rosalie took tea provided by the shop’s teenage receptionist.
Malcolm had a fortnightly appointment with Rosalie Sutcliffe and every third appointment she prescribed a ‘chat’ with Aunty Andrea for her client.
“Good afternoon, Malcolm,” Andrea greeted the nervous man entering her parlour. “Take a seat please dear and we’ll review what Dr Sutcliffe had to say about your recent behaviour. Would you like a drink, sweetheart?”
Although Malcolm had refused Kimberley’s offer of tea or coffee earlier his mouth was suddenly dry and he croaked, “Some water, please ma’am.”
“Of course,” Andrea smiled, pouring a glass from the pitcher on the table next to her chair and holding it out.
Malcom took the tumbler and seated himself carefully on the couch across from Andrea, watching her with growing anxiety.
“What do you think Dr Sutcliffe told me?” Andrea asked.
Malcolm sipped his water and bit his lip. She always called Dr Sutcliffe by her title in front of him, never Rosalie, although on the few occasions when Dr Sutcliffe had supervised or observed his discipline with the gorgeous chestnut haired disciplinarian, she had referred to her by her first name.
“I forgot my medication,” Malcolm began hesitantly.
Andrea consulted the top sheet of the folder in her lap. “Uh huh, and?” she prompted.
“I was late with some work ordered by a client and a penalty was taken out of my fee for that.”
“Tell Aunty why you were late, Malcolm?”
Malcolm winced, he had known she would ask that. “I stayed up late too many nights and slept in a lot.”
“We’ve had this discussion before, haven’t we, young man?”
“Yes, Aunty,” Malcolm admitted.
“Getting a good night’s rest and going to bed at a decent hour is very important for your routine dear. Dr Sutcliffe and I are in agreement on that point. What did I tell you would happen if it recurred?”
“You’d spank me.”
Andrea laughed richly, “Well that’s rather a given sweetie. The business is called The Spank Shop after all. What sort of a spanking did I promise you?”
She was so good at making him feel like naughty pre teen, it was one of the things that he really appreciated about what Andrea did, even if it wasn’t particularly pleasant at the time. “You said you would use your tawse on top of the hairbrush, ma’am.”
“You haven’t been tawsed before, have you, darling?”
“Well then this will be a novel experience for you, won’t it?”
“Yes ma’am,” Malcolm admitted with a nervous nod.
“What else did I say I’d do?”
Malcolm had rather hoped she hadn’t been serious about the second thing, or would at least forget about it if it were ever necessary to discipline him for this offence again. “You said you would visit me every night for a week and tuck me in to make sure I went to bed on time.”
“Correct, although I didn’t specify a time period. It may be a week, it may be two, it could be a month. It will be for as long as it takes, and Aunty will decide when that is. If I can’t do it I will send either Aunty Gabrielle or Kimberley in my stead, and if you give any of us fuss about bedtime you will be tucked in with a hot glowing bottom to keep you warm throughout the night.”
Malcolm shuddered. The thought of being tucked in by Andrea wasn’t really that bad, although it would be humiliating. That would be increased tenfold if it were Kimberley who did the honours and he’d only met the girl’s mother in passing, but the reaction of those clients who did spend time in her parlour promised that a spanking from the Kennedy matriarch would be something best avoided.
“Have you finished your water?” Andrea asked, setting the folder aside.
Malcolm looked down at his nearly empty glass, he did not remember drinking it, and nodded.
“Well then, hand it to me and we’ll get started. Do you need to tinkle?”
As Malcolm handed Andrea his water glass, he felt his face catch fire at her use of the childish term for needing to urinate. “No ma’am. Miss Kimberley let me visit the bathroom before.”
“Good boy,” Andrea praised her client, placing the glass on the small table next to her and standing up. “Up you get Malcolm. I need the couch for your smacking, sweetheart.”
Malcolm stood up and watched Andrea rearrange herself on the couch he had just vacated. It was at times like this he truly appreciated how beautiful the woman was. She looked, acted and dressed just like some of the dream women he fantasized about being spanked by. There was also the voice. Andrea had this soft, gentle, cultured sounding voice. She had the ability to sound stern and scold very effectively without actually raising her voice. The sound of it often sent shivers through Malcolm’s entire body.
“Stand by my knee, honey,” Andrea invited once she was comfortable on the couch. “Now, Malcolm Harrison,” she began using both of his first names. “You know what time bedtime is, don’t you?”
“Yes, ma’am,” Malcolm replied, looking down at his feet.
“Look at me when I am speaking to you, young man,” Andrea reminded, drawing Malcolm’s gaze to her piercing green eyes. “What time is bedtime?”
“Ten o’clock, Miss Andrea.”
“Yes, ten o’clock,” Andrea repeated. “That is ten o’clock sharp, not ten after, not twenty minutes before ten, but ten o’clock. What time have you been going to bed recently?”
Malcolm’s brow furrowed. He was in a quandary here. He had had some very late nights recently. Watching DVD’s or sports events on TV or playing a new video game. He wanted to be truthful, but he was concerned if he told Andrea the times, they had been well into the small hours of the morning on some occasions, she would really go to town on his backside and he didn’t want that. “Much later than ten o’clock, Miss Andrea.”
Andrea’s red lips pursed, she wanted to ask how much later, but she suspected that some of the times had probably been after midnight and hearing that would only annoy her, and she liked Malcolm. He didn’t deserve that sort of wrath visited on his rather cute hind end. “Why exactly have you been staying up past bed time? Did you have work that needed to be completed?”
“No, ma’am. I just got involved in TV or a game.”
Andrea shook her head sadly, making the brown curls bounce and sway. “Young man, I am going to have to spank you very soundly for this. Just last time Dr Sutcliffe and I told you what would happen if you were here again for this.”
Malcolm blushed again. Dr Sutcliffe had been present for his last spanking from Andrea. She was almost as an effective scolder as the professional disciplinarian herself.
Andrea’s hands went to the buttons of Malcolm’s trousers and as she unsnapped them and lowered his zipper, she spoke, “I think we can dispense with the ma’ams and the Misses too darling. I’m Aunty Andrea for you. Now let’s get these trousers down,” they slid to his calves. “Underpants too.”
Malcolm let out a resigned sigh as he felt his underwear being brusquely lowered to his ankles where they tangled up with his trousers. He had a modest erection beginning, but as soon as Andrea took his underpants down it shriveled up to his relief. He knew Andrea didn’t mind and had ways of dealing with them, but it was one more humiliation he didn’t want.
“Slip your shoes off, please dear,” Andrea requested. “Take your pants and underoos off and fold them neatly on the ottoman. You can have them back later.”
As Malcolm did what he had been asked, Andrea sat back and admired his bum. It really was rather nice to look at. Malcolm was one of those people that didn’t seem to put on a lot of weight whether he exercised a lot or not. He didn’t drive, he preferred to walk most places and Andrea wondered if that was why he had such a cute, tight behind. It was milk white at present, but she’d soon have it a hot, pulsating raspberry red.
“Well, I think we’re all ready to spank, sweetness,” Andrea said cheerfully, patting her lap.
“Yes, Aunty,” Malcolm said, taking a deep breath and laying himself over the waiting lap.
“Let’s lift these legs,” Andrea said, raising Malcolm’s legs so that they were supported by the end of the couch. Malcolm was of average height for a man, which made him not a lot taller than Andrea herself and the couch was a long one, so spanking adult clients on it meant that both their upper and lower bodies were supported, which allowed her to give a really sound spanking without fear of someone falling off and supported their weight, which in the case of a fully grown man like Malcolm was appreciated.
Andrea shifted the man over her lap along a little so that his midsection was nestled right in her lap, she could feel some gentle pressure from his returned erection as it pressed insistently against her skirt and bumped her inner thigh.
“Oh Malcolm!” she exclaimed. “You naughty boy!” and gave his upturned bottom a sharp slap.
“I ccan’t hhelp it, Aunty,” a somewhat miserable and clearly embarrassed Malcolm confessed.
“It’s okay, sweetie,” Andrea reassured him, rubbing his buttocks gently. “I know. It will go away once your spanking starts in earnest. That’s what generally happens, darling. Your little soldier soon forgets to stand at attention when Aunty lights those fires on your delectable bare end.”
Malcolm squirmed a little and willed himself to think of less inviting thoughts. He thought he had just succeeded when a loud slap rang out through the room followed by the now familiar stinging pain that Malcolm knew was a firm palm impacting on the tender flesh of his exposed buttocks.
As the spanking progressed Malcolm wriggled and squirmed and became aware that the pain was localized on one buttock only. Andrea was repeatedly striking one cheek and being continually slapped in the one area without any respite was excruciating. He started to cry out and beg for it to stop.
“Stop?” Andrea asked, raising her voice a little to be heard over the ringing slaps and Malcolm’s cries of distress. “Why would I stop young man? I’ll stop when I think you have been sufficiently dealt with for not taking your medication and not keeping regular sleeping hours.”
“Please, Aunty Andrea,” Malcolm sobbed. “Please the other side!”
“The other side? Whatever do you mean, my boy?”
“Please spank the other side, Aunty. It hurts!”
“Of course it does, Malcolm. You silly child it is meant to, that’s why spankings are so effective in modifying behaviour. I want you to think of this every time you try and sit down over the next few days. Since you ask so nicely, though, I will oblige you and make your darling little cheeks match.”
Andrea was true to her word. One side of Malcolm’s bottom was a bright smarting red and quite hot to the touch. The other was a pristine white. Malcolm sighed in relief as Andrea laid a hard spank on the previously unspanked globe, but was soon roaring and rolling from side to side to avoid the woman’s laser accurate palm as with regular stinging smacks she made it the same glowing red as its twin.
“Legs apart, please, sweetheart,” Andrea commanded.
Even in his distressed state Malcolm knew what that order meant. Andrea had done this each and every time he had been laid over her lap. It was extremely unpleasant for two reasons. One was that it allowed Andrea access to Malcolm’s tender inner thighs and buttocks, areas that were normally protected from a stern hard palm. The second was that when the legs were spread it was very hard to try and alleviate the pain by kicking or madly crossing and uncrossing the legs.
“I won’t ask again, young man,” Andrea said sternly. “Legs apart and quickly.”
“Bbut it’s going to hhurt, Aunty!” Malcolm wailed.
“As I have already said, Malcolm Harrison, that is my intention. Unless you would like me to ask Miss Kimberley or Miss Gabrielle to come in here and hold your legs apart I would do it and be smart about it.”
With a whimper Malcolm parted his legs, unable to stop a frisson of fear shimmering through his now sore bottom as he tried to prepare himself for the new onslaught. The man soon howled as Andrea spread waves of heat through his creamy white inner thighs and buttocks and soon had them the same raspberry red as the rest of his hindquarters.
After she’d given her client a good set on his upper thighs and sit spot Andrea felt his steaming backside with the back of her hand and whistled at the temperature. Malcolm did tend to redden and heat quickly under her hand, but she knew he could take a good deal more and was also going to get her hairbrush and tawse on top of this warm up hand spanking. She let Malcolm lay over her lap and sob as he came to the realization that she was done for the moment. She had to admit she liked Malcolm. His offences were rather minor, but he felt that they weren’t and that he required serious correction for them. He also turned from a polite and neat adult into a sobbing child over her lap. Not all her adult male clients were so receptive, not all her female ones come to think of it, either.
“You okay, darling?” she asked the blubbering man prostrated over her thighs.
“Yuyes, Aunty Andrea,” he managed to sob.
“Well let’s get you up and ready for the rest of your spanking, then.”
Andrea put her arms around Malcolm’s waist and gently assisted him to a standing position in front of her. As soon as she released his hands they started to stray automatically to his roasting rear end, but stopped at a flash from Andrea’s green eyes. Slowly Andrea smiled and gave permission, “Go ahead and rub, sweetheart. I know you want to.”
Malcolm’s eyes showed his gratitude as his hands started to vigorously massage his scorched hams. Andrea rose gracefully and crossed the room to open a large wooden cupboard. Malcolm shuddered as the woman passed him. He kept his eyes fixed on the couch, though. That cupboard was well known to most visitors to Andrea’s parlour. It was where most of her spanking implements lived when not being actively used in a session.
The cupboard opened and closed and Andrea passed Malcolm again, setting two items on the coffee table. She seated herself on the couch and looked up at the tear stained face, she hid a smile at how like a just spanked little boy Malcolm looked. Tears trickling down his face, all modesty forgotten as he rubbed his sore bottom in a vain effort to try and dampen down the fires her hand had lit there.
“Stop rubbing now, please Malcolm. It really doesn’t do any good and it’s quite unsightly.”
Malcolm looked as if he may disobey the command, but his hands did reluctantly leave his bottom.
“On your head, darling,” Andrea said. “That should keep them out of temptation’s way.”
With a sigh the hands were laced atop the head. Malcolm’s eyes went to the two items Andrea had put on the table. One of them was well known to him. It was a wooden hairbrush, it was oval with a long handle and made of a dense black wood called ebony. Andrea had a number of hairbrushes in that cupboard, none of which were ever used to brush hair. This particular one was known as Mrs Ebony and it was Andrea’s favourite. The second item was new to Malcolm. It was a length of thick broad leather that had been divided into two tails at the end. Malcolm had heard of the feared Scottish tawse and he knew Andrea had more than one of them and used them on Spank Shop clients, but this was the first time he had seen one and it was new to his backside.
“Now,” Andrea began, her voice taking on its lecturing tone. “Why does Dr Sutcliffe prescribe medication for you, young man?”
“To stop me from getting depressed, Aunty,” Malcolm answered, keenly aware of his half naked state in front of the brunette’s steely gaze, and shifting from side to side uncomfortably.
“Malcolm,” Andrea said sharply. “I thought you went potty earlier?”
“I did, Aunty Andrea,” the man answered.
“Then why are you jiggling?”
“I don’t know, Aunty.”
“Stop it, now! It is very distracting,” Andrea scolded. “What happens when you get depressed?”
“I do silly things, Aunty. I hurt myself,” Malcolm, said looking at his feet.
“Exactly and you hurt yourself more than Aunty’s spanking hurts your bottom. So back over Aunty’s lap so Mrs Ebony can teach you why you need to take your medication.”
Wordlessly Malcolm lay back over Andrea’s waiting lap and let her maneuver him back into the position she wanted him in.
Malcolm shivered as he felt the brushes smooth cool back glide teasingly over his still steaming buttocks. “I do hope you’re not cold,” Andrea drawled. “Never mind, we’ll soon have you warm as toast, darling.”
The brush cracked loudly as it snapped over the centre bulge of Malcolm’s upturned bottom. He jerked and yelled. “Let’s open those lungs and get those tears flowing,” Andrea encouraged as she tightened her grip around Malcolm’s waist and he writhed under the brushes relentless and fiery rain.
Malcolm went into a strange headspace where the only thing that existed was the roaring fire that Andrea used the brush to stoke and build. His bottom felt like it was on fire from his upper thighs to the base of his spine.
Andrea’s mouth firmed as she plied the brush and she paused for a moment to admire the waves of shimmering heat that radiated from the frantically pumping buttocks over her lap.
Andrea lifted one leg and clamped it over the back of Malcolm’s legs. This was a more common problem with older clients, especially men. They couldn’t help it. She spanked soundly and the brush was hard and heavy. However she didn’t want them going anywhere until she had spanked those naughty bottoms up stove hot and they felt like she could set the kettle on them and have the water boil in no time.
Malcolm’s knew his face must have been a mess. He could barely catch his breath, he could taste tears and snot, and he was also drooling, plus the vigorous exertion had made him break into a sweat.
Andrea set the brush down and took a deep breath. She plucked a tissue from a nearby box and used it to wipe her wrists and across her chest. Malcolm blubbered over her lap. “That’s it darling,” she murmured in his ear. “You have a good hard cry for Aunty.”
Andrea leaned over Malcolm’s baking rear end and luxuriated for a moment as the heat rose up and warmed her breasts. She reached across and closed her hand around the tawse. She drew the leather’s length through her fingers shivering a little at the slithering feel of it. She laid it across Malcolm’s pulsating cherry red hindquarters and smiled as he flinched. She drew it slowly across the centre of his twitching rump and asked, “Can you feel that, Malcolm?”
‘Yes, Aunty Andrea,” Malcolm whispered.
“Do you know what it is, sweetheart?”
“Yes, Aunty,” he whimpered.
“Can you tell Aunty?”
“It’s a tawse.”
“Yes, it is.” Andrea confirmed. “Tawses are medium length straps, they’re wide and quite heavy. They’re also thick, the tails at the end intensify the sting. Now I want you to hold on really tight, Malcolm, because this is really going to hurt. You should have some lovely blue black bruises around the edges where the tails bite in.”
Malcolm started to cry again, feeling the tears slide down his cheeks. Andrea raised the two-tailed strap high and brought it down. It landed with a loud bang. Malcolm stiffened and howled. “That is for not taking your medication!” Andrea said, and before the sound of her voice had died the second stroke fell.
Malcolm wailed and tasted that his nose had started to run again.
“That’s for putting yourself in danger!”
The tawse slashed across his sit spots and made him scream.
“That is for not doing as Dr Sutcliffe told you. She and I do not talk to hear ourselves speak, young man!”
Malcolm did the overlap tango as the belt swathed heat over his upper thighs.
“That is for not going to bed at a reasonable hour!”
Andrea backhanded her weapon over the sit spot again which got a thin squeal that was turned into a ragged sob.
‘That is for inconveniencing your clients!”
The tawse snapped over the crowns again and that wide double area flared redder than the rest of the scorched backside.
Andrea dropped the tawse and Malcolm lay limply over her lap, letting out hiccupping sobs. Andrea helped him into a seated position and gently settled his very sore backside into her lap. She loved the feeling of the still simmering buns in her lap.
Malcolm’s rested his head on Andrea’s bosom and sobbed as she stroked his sweat soaked hair and murmured softly and soothingly into his ear, rubbing his back as he slowly gentled down.
After a few moments when Malcolm’s crying had ceased and he simply snuggled into her lap, Andrea lifted his head and helped him to his feet, then walked him to the corner.
“Put your hands on your head, please,” Andrea instructed, and removed a thin scarlet ribbon with a bell attached to the end of it from a pocket in her skirt. She placed the ribbon on the wall and ordered, “Nose.”
Malcolm winced. He had done this before. It was a new technique of Andrea’s and one he did not like. It was very humiliating, that was why she did it he assumed. She was an expert at it. The idea was that he had to hold the ribbon on the wall with his nose, if it dropped the bell would ring and Andrea would spank him some more.
Andrea sat back in her armchair, crossed one long nylon sheathed leg over the other, picked up a thick hardback book, found her place and setting her bookmark on the arm of the chair began to read, occasionally glancing up to admire her handiwork on Malcolm’s bottom and just to check that his hands were still laced over his sweat sodden locks. The bell would let her know if he moved away from the wall. The belled ribbon was a wonderful initiative with corner time, humiliating, effective and a little fun all at the same time.
Malcolm sighed and wished his bottom would just stop burning quite so keenly. That tawse had done a really effective job. Malcolm hoped he never had to experience that again. His nose was becoming numb with the pressure of having to hold the bell in place on the wall. Andrea looked up from her book and noticed that the muscles of Malcolm’s back were starting to tremble with the strain of remaining in position.
“Malcolm, darling,” she said clearly. “You may remove your hands and come to Aunty now.”
With a huge sigh of relief Malcolm took his hands off his head, lifted his nose and caught the ribbon. He dropped that in Andrea’s outstretched palm and she put it in a crystal ashtray that was now used for knick knacks as Andrea had never smoked, but had inherited it from her parents, and her father had liked a pipe after meals. Her sister hadn’t wanted the ashtray, but Andrea liked it and cleaned up it was a nice ornament.
Andrea put her arms around Malcolm’s shaking shoulders as she stood and said fondly, “Let’s go to the bathroom sweetness and get you cleaned up. Maybe Aunty can even cool down that sizzling little posterior of yours, too.”
Andrea used a washcloth to clean the tears, snot, saliva and sweat from Malcolm’s face. Then she filled a bowl with warm water and got some lotion and cotton balls from a cupboard under the sink. She pulled a stool from against the wall and sat it in the middle of the room before seating herself on it, then pulled Malcolm back over her knees. She gently and competently sluiced water over his bottom before drying it and then massaging in some lotion, cleaning the excess grease away with some cotton balls dipped in the water and patting him dry again.
The aftercare wasn’t something Andrea did every time, but she felt this had been quite a sound spanking and Malcolm had taken it very well, so deserved a little post spanking pampering. For his part Malcolm knew it was something special and treated it as such. It was one of the little things that made him like the arrangement he had with Andrea’s establishment. It made him feel that she genuinely cared about him and was more than just a client.
Once Malcolm was dressed again and getting ready to leave, Andrea said, “I expect you in your pj’s when I arrive at nine this evening, Malcolm.”
“Nine, Aunty?” Malcolm asked.
“Yes, that should give me half an hour to get you settled, brush your teeth and get you all tucked in by nine thirty.”
“Nine thirty?” Malcolm blurted. “Bedtime is ten!”
“Bedtime is when I say it is, young man, and what happened to Aunty? Do I need to take those pants down again and get you back over my lap?”
“No, Aunty,” Malcolm replied meekly, dropping his eyes.
“Better,” Andrea said in an even tone, the fire in her eyes dampening down. “Privileges like later bedtimes are earned, young man. When Dr Sutcliffe and I decide that you can handle going to bed at nine thirty we will consider extending it to ten o’clock. Is that understood?”
“Yes, Aunty Andrea.”
“Now what time will you be in your jammies waiting for Aunty tonight?”
“Nine o’clock, Aunty.”
“Very good. And what time will I tuck you up all snug as a bug ready to go bye byes?”
Malcolm’s cheeks burned at the baby talk directed at him, “Nine thirty, Aunty Andrea.”
“Good boy!” Andrea beamed. She turned him around and sent him out to reception with a gentle pat on his bottom. “I’ll see you this evening, darling. Don’t forget.”