What on earth posessed you to do that

What On Earth Possessed You To Do That

It was only after chatting to a friend who encouraged me to share this story that I decided to write this tale of woe, woe for my bottom!

I know that the following tale may seem a bit farfetched but stranger things have happened.

It all kicked off one glorious summer day, I had travelled to Johannesburg to watch the test match between Bill Lawries Australian team and South Africa at the Wanderers cricket grounds.

My parents had for once allowed me to go to the match, providing, my father said “as long as I don’t have to pay”

I had saved all my pay from my weekend job at the local and only supermarket in the small mining town on the edge of the Kruger National Park. I told my father I had it all sorted. My mother arranged with her friend for me to stay at her place for the week. Being a major city meant getting around as there were bus routes aplenty.

My mother’s friend showed me the room I was to sleep in telling me I would have peace as her three sons were away camping with their dad so it was just the two of us.

Looking back now, I realise that the Guthrie’s had a FLR as Aunty Wilma as I called her was undoubtedly the head of the home, although we kids never saw it, I am sure she spanked her husband Sandy.

As a youngster I had felt the wrath of this lovely lady’s hair brush on many an occasion. Aunty Wilma always spanked us over her knee and always over our underwear. However they moved away and I got older, I was going to say I grew up but as many here know, little boys never grow up.

Aunty Wilma and I had a good relationship, cemented after the very first spanking I received from her, I think I was about 10 at the time, Tony, her eldest and I were playing a game of Kleilat. 

Kleilat after the Afrikaans word for clay-Klei and switch-lat. Basically the game involves two or more protagonists each armed with a switch and a ready supply of clay, this clay forms the projectile which is launched off the tip of the switch in the general direction of the protagonists. After some practice one could become quite accurate in flinging these clay balls at each other, the one yelping the loudest after being struck is the loser.

Anyway, as I said Tony and I were playing when Aunty Wilma called us in for dinner, Tony immediately started walking for home telling me to hurry as we would get into trouble if aunty Wilma had to call us again.

As  Tony began walking towards his home I launched a clay lump at him, it struck him on the right temple flooring him. When he sat up a few seconds later the target area had swollen to double it’s size and was now a big lump. Tony was in tears and I began to worry about possible repercussions.

Arriving at Aunty Wilma’s back door we entered the house through the kitchen where Aunty was dishing up our dinner. She took one look at the crying Tony and knew what we had been up to. Calmly but with deadly menace she began to scold the two of us, Mark and Paul her  two youngest kids tried to disappear into the upholstery.

After dinner I was sent to retrieve the kleilat while she inspected the now massive lump on Tony’s temple. A short while later I returned to find Tony upended over his moms knee howling as she punished him, looking at me she said; “don’t go too far, you are also getting a hiding. A few minutes later I too was upended over Aunty Wilma’s knee as she spanked my bottom until it too matched the colour of Tony’s bottom, bright red!

Taking both of us into the sitting room we were directed to lay over the sofa arm whereupon she switched our very sore bottoms, we each got 6 of the very best. This switching coming on top of a very hard hand and hair brush spanking left us in no doubt that we had been very soundly punished.

We were both sent to bed after a bath and Aunty Wilma came and spent time cuddling the pair of us, telling us how much she loved us, she stayed with us until we both fell asleep. She then phoned my parents to tell them I was sleeping over, she never told them she had to spank me. I was in love! Getting cuddled after being punished was something alien to me, I was left to cry alone following a spanking, convinced my parents hated me.

There is a saying from way back; “Sticks and stones may break my bones but words can never hurt me.” Today I am convinced that saying has it’s roots in the very flames of hell. Tell a child he is stupid often enough and son he will come to believe it, tell him he is an inconvenience and a burden and he will believe that too.

My mother always referred to me as “The Bloody Shit Brat”. I believed her. During the next 6 years aunty Wilma spanked me often, I always did something to deserve the punishment, she never ever sent me to bed afterwards without cuddling me and telling me she loved me.

Back to the present, the test match was a cracker, two Centuries in the South African innings, one by the Springbok wicket keeper, Dennis Van De Merwe and a double century by Graeme Pollock.

Sunday was a rest day and seeing as there was no cricket I stayed home, Aunty Wilma had to go see someone, she asked if I wanted to come too but knowing she was seeing a friend I chose not to bored and stayed at home.

She wrote the phone number of the friend on a piece of paper and with the normal admonishment for me to behave myself she left.  I read a book for a while and then really got bored. Rooting around in uncle Sandy’s garage I found a .22 bullet. Ah, I thought, this will make a brilliant pendant for a chain. I had watched my older brother Graham make one during his military service one weekend and while it was not a 7.62 mm round it would do.

I remember Graham stressing that you had to carefully separate the bullet and cartridge case so that the powder could be removed. I carefully clamped the bullet in the vice and arming myself with a vice grips carefully clamped the cartridge case, try as I might I could not remove the case, For over an hour I tried to no avail, nothing it seemed would budge the case.

By this time I was so worked up and really angry, without thinking I grabbed a nearby hammer and lashed out at the bullet still clamped in the vice on the workbench. What followed is the result of a temper tantrum, there was a loud bang and when I came round after the shock, there was the bullet still clamped in the vice, of the cartridge case there was no sign.

I stood there in the workshop for a few minutes and with not being able to find the casing of the bullet I decided to go outside and headed for the swimming pool, I was hot and sweaty so I dived into the pool surfacing on my back I slowly paddled just enough to keep myself afloat. Looking down at my feet I spotted a thin trail of red, wondering what this was I stood upright and looked at my chest, there was blood everywhere.

As the realization struck home to me so did the pain. I headed for the poolside and climbed out grabbing a towel and pressed the towel to my chest. The pain mounted and I knew I was in trouble, going into the house I  phoned aunty Wilma, I cannot remember what I said to her but she was outside the house within 5 minutes.

She bundled me into the car and rushed me to the nearest hospital where I emerged an hour later with two stitches in my chest and the remains of the cartridge case in a specimen bottle. The doctor who stitched me up told Aunty Wilma that I was a very lucky child, the remains of the cartridge case had lodged in the thick bone of my sternum, a half inch to the right, my left and my heart would have been hit. Evidently the thickness of the sternum prevented more damage from being done. To this day I carry the scar on my chest.

The only thing aunty Wilma said to me was that she would have to contact my parents, she was adamant that they would have to decide what sort of punishment to give me. I pleaded with her to not involve my parents.

“Mario”, she said, “I have to tell them. I cannot not tell them, they are your parents, they have to know what happened.”

I pleaded saying, “if I was Tony, what would you do?”

“If you were Tony I would make sure you could not sit down for a week, you would get the hiding of your life young man, however that is a moot point, you are not Tony.”

“Aunty Wilma, you are my favourite aunty, you have punished me before and besides didn’t you tell me that if I misbehaved that you would treat me just like your own kids. I know I screwed up and I know I probably deserve a thrashing for throwing a tantrum and being so stupid.”

We soon arrived back at Aunty Wilma’s house and I was sent to wait in my bedroom while Aunty Wilma phoned my parents. I did not have long to wait, about 5 minutes later the door opened and Aunty Wilma poked her head around the corner telling me that she had phoned my parents and that the incident had been reported to them.

I was to phone my parents as soon as I could, Aunty Wilma told me to use the phone in her bedroom, a quick hug and kiss on the forehead and Aunty said she would be waiting downstairs for me

My mother had shown no surprise when Aunty Wilma told her I had nearly killed myself, calling me a stupid brat, Finally before ending the conversation she said that Aunty Wilma would be punishing me.

I put the phone down and went through to the sitting room to wait for Aunty Wilma, hearing me she called to me from the kitchen where I found her making us lunch. We sat and ate together and then she told me I would be staying with them for the rest of the holidays, including Christmas.

The realisation that once again I was being dumped struck home and before I knew it, tears had rolled down my cheeks, Aunty Wilma took my hand and pulled, I came towards her and allowed myself to be seated on her lap as she pulled my head onto her bosom and allowed me to cry out my loss and pain.

How long we sat there I do not know, when I stirred and lifted my head she urged me to kneel at her feet and gently grasping my head between her hands she and I began to talk, we talked, mostly about me, she asked me about my conversation with my mother and between my sobbing and tears she expressed her love for me, not simply as her friends son but her love for me as her son for that is how she felt.

During all this sharing I asked what she intended to do about my punishment. Initially she wanted to hold off punishing me until the following day as she felt I was too exhausted. Finally we agreed that I would get punished after dinner that evening.

I now know the expression “the condemned man ate a hearty dinner”, even though I faced a hard punishment, I still ate a very hearty dinner, Aunty Wilma looking on in amazement.

Dinner over Aunty Wilma sent me to wait in her bedroom, telling me to wait in the corner dressed only in my underwear with my hands on my head.

“Yes Ma’am” I replied as I went through to her bedroom via my room where I got undressed and then dressed in my underwear I stood in the corner, waiting for my punishment.

I heard the sound of her heels on the linoleum flooring, shivers ran up and down my spine as this incredibly erotic sound sent chills through me. The door opened and out of the corner of my eye, I saw Aunty Wilma fetch her hair brush off the dresser and heard her move the stool out into the middle of the room about 4 foot from the end of the bed. By now the suspense had gripped me and to my horror I suffered the most humiliating erection I have ever had.

To my shame, the more I tried to will the erection to disappear it seemed the harder my erection became. “Please Aunty Don’t call me now, give me time to get rid of this hard on,”  I begged silently.

“Mario, come here to me darling.” I turned around and conscious of my erection covered my groin with my hands and walked the five or six yards towards the stool on which Aunty Wilma sat.

As I walked towards her I noticed a rather large strap lying on the bed, I shuddered as I realised I would also be feeling it’s bite along with the bite of Aunty Wilma’s hair brush.

I stood where aunty directed me, reaching up she again cupped my chin in her hands forcing me to look at her face instead of the floor and her bustline.

“You know I love you!” were her words.

Tears came to mine as I responded.

“I have to do this Bug”, she said.

“Yes aunty I know.” Somehow through my tears, I managed to articulate my words into a sentence she could understand.

“Come on then, let’s get this over so we can be friends again.”

This said she gently drew me over her right knee, swinging her left leg over the back of mine, trapping me in place.

“Bug give me you right hand please” I did as I was told and now I had been totally immobilised.

There was no warning as the first stroke struck home right in the centre of my butt with a loud SPLAT. A few seconds later a white hot band of fire erupted as every nerve ending in the impact zone screamed out in agony. With the first stroke out of the way, the rest of the spanking was over within 5 minutes.

The second, third and fourth stroke also struck in the same place, I yelled and twisted trying to move that particular spot out of harm’s way. Trapped as I was, I was going nowhere. Finally, I yelled out “please Aunty, please spank somewhere else!”

Taking pity she did just that, target shifted and SPLAT, SLAP, SPLAT SLAP. Again all on the same spot. The accumulated heat and pain from multiple strokes all striking the same place quickly had me bawling and that’s how I stayed the whole spanking, howling, shrieking and snot flying everywhere.

How long I lay  over Aunties lap after she stopped using that dreadful brush I have no idea. I became aware of my surroundings as Aunty Wilma allowed me to stand, my hands flew to cradle my ruined bottom as I performed that age old dance naughty boys have performed for centuries.

Aunty Wilma got up from the stool and laid out three pillows near the edge of the bed. Gripping my arm she directed me to lay over the edge of the bed my tummy lying on top of the pillows, my head lying flat on the cover. This meant my swollen butt was nicely elevated. Aunty Wilma told me to put my hands under my tummy and make sure they stayed there, threatening to repeat the whole punishment if I disobeyed her.

She stepped back and gently allowed the belt to slide over my bottom before lifting her arm and with force brought the strap crashing down across the width of my bottom. That first stroke unleashed a swathe of agony across my butt, I could not believe it could hurt so much.

Aunty Wilma allowed nearly a full minute between strokes. The second stroke was slightly lower but still across both cheeks, maybe an inch of two lower, not more. All in all it took nearly 10 minutes for those four strokes I was already in spank land after the second one.

The strapping was horrendous, brief but still horrendous, that wide leather belt ripped into my butt with a ferocity I have never experienced before, even today after all these years, those four strokes still remain fresh in my mind.

Finally it was over, it was nearly half an hour before I calmed down enough to understand that at last my punishment was over. Totally exhausted Aunty Wilma helped me get into bed where I lay on my stomach as she sat beside me holding my hand until I fell asleep.

Note, my parents never mentioned the incident to me ever again, Aunty Wilma remained my favourite aunty although it was about 6 years before she spanked me again.         

Out of it

Out of it for a while. Due to a health issue I will be off line for a while. I am going into hospital later this month. Rest assured I will be back. Amongst other things I hope to add to "Mrs. Cameron and Timothy"
Master Mario, that naughty little boy, has a new Top, on several occasions she has blistered my bottom in the last months. Hopefully she will have me over her knee the week after next.
She is beautiful, strict and loving, a mommy to stand in for my mom, she has promised to teach me the error of my ways. I think I'm in love

Mario

Success I got spanked again. Yippee.

Yes it has happened , I got my bare bottom tanned again. Now aunty Andrea Before you get too happy, let me give you some background info first.
As you may know it has been about 18 months since I last went across Aunty Shan's knee,even longer since I had Aunty Nita's Mr Spank make his presence felt on my poor bare bottom. During this period of time I have become a genuine brat of epic proportions. There are two ladies who would love nothing more than to roast my buns, fortunately they live on the other side of the world. ( for me that is)
Both want me to visit, suffice it to say I cannot afford to visit either, Mommy Jools in Auckland and Mommy Luanne in Los Angeles.
I got chatting to a lady on Fetlife and while I am not really into bondage or SM I have met some lovely people there. Anyway I digress, Sue told me about a friend of hers who lives close to me and I messaged her. She replied and wanted to know what my wants and needs were. I explained the current situation and on Friday morning at 11am local time I knocked on the ladies door. We had a lovely time and I was soon in the bad boy position over a stern ladies lap.
I dont' know if I told you good folks about my mistress and Lover who was found dead one morning on the beach in her home town in South Africa. well Miss Scarlet looks very similar to my lover Elmarie.
The spanking was not particularly severe, in fact by Aunty Shan or Aunty Nita's standards it was very mild but so cathartic, Miss Scarlet or aunty Scarlet as she prefers me to call her was stern and very loving. I will be vsiting my new Aunty again and am going to ask her if she would consider Topping me.
I will be adding more tales of my being spanked by this beautiful mature goddess.

Mario

I posted my latest story recently on the Library of Spanking Fiction, thought that I would also share it on my blog.

This story is dedicated to my wonderful mom. She came into my life 27 years ago. Along with her husband, they have become surrogate parents to me, treating me like one of the family. They have laughed with me, cried with me, held me, and counselled me after the death of my natural parents and the trauma of rejection.

Once many years ago, I disobeyed the old man and ended up with a sore ass after he laid into me but mom has never punished me. It has been the one aspect of love never shown to me and I miss it. Until mom actually punishes me, I think that I will always question the depth of her love to me. Yes,  I am an adult but having never felt her love in the form of loving correction via a spanking I have always felt something is missing.

A Mother’s Love

Mom came into my life in 1986. I was 31 years of age and emotionally a wreck. Mom and dad were and still are my ministers. I thought all was well with the world. At least in my mind, all was well. Now today many years later I realise I was a wreck.

I think the first inkling of my emotional instability resulted from  problems between my wife and I; my wife wanted us to go for marriage counselling.

“Yeah right, nothing wrong with me but if that’s what you want then far be for me to stop you from going,” I said after a few days of nagging, correction and meaningful discussion.

 After my capitulation, bowing to the inevitable I took Ruth to the first session at mom’s house. In she went while I waited outside in the car.

I had hardly started reading my book, yes I came prepared, when mom’s youngest son came to the car and told me, “Mom wants you to come inside now, she is waiting to start.”

Now if there is one thing I have learned it is this: When a maternal figure tells you to do something, it is like an executive order. You carry out the instruction at once, or else!

I went inside and found the pair of them sat in the kitchen at the table. Mom looked up at me and told me to sit dawn, I meekly did as told and sat down. Obviously, this session was intended for the both of us, not just for my wife.

To cut a long story short, mom ended the session by asking me a question, “Malcolm Edward, when are you going to take my daughter out for a meal?”

I did not immediately grasp or really hear the question so mom repeated it several times before I wised up and gave her the answer she wanted. Again, I have learned that when a maternal figure calls you by your full name you had better beware because you are in deep trouble and that there is only one acceptable answer.

“Yes Ma’am, I will take her out for a meal.”

“When?” came the reply, I was not out of danger yet.

I will book a table for this weekend, I promise.”

The next words I heard kind of shocked me.

“I will book a table for this weekend, who?”

Man I was sharp, I picked up on that quickly, replying, “I will book a table for this weekend I promise Mom.”

Mom beamed and leaned forward and kissed me on the cheek, “keep your promise son. I love you.”

Mom has been mom ever since.

Several years ago my mother passed away and sitting in my sister’s dining room on the day of the funeral, I discovered that my mother had finally rejected myself and my brother. I was gutted and for a long time I totally withdrew from my loved ones: my wife; my children, and my adopted family.

Finally, things came to a head and I got a phone call from mom, “Son you and I need to talk, Dad will be out visiting so it will only be the two of us.”

I really did not want this conversation to take place but mom was insistent and reluctantly I walked the three doors down the road to her house. Opening the kitchen door, I spotted mom making a cup of tea. On seeing me, she offered me a cup and we chatted as she brewed the tea.

Sitting down she asked me, “How are you feeling today?”

It was as if the sluice gates on the dam wall had opened. All my bitterness at the final rejection from the one person that should have loved me came gushing out in a vitriolic cacophony of hurt and anguish. I poured my heart out to this wonderful loving lady.

Mom did not hold back, she lovingly confirmed that not only did she love me but she was sure my mother loved me too. As mom said this to me I had this flash back to an episode when as an eleven year old I had disobeyed my mother and she punished me for the very first time that I could ever remember. All my previous punishments had been given by my older sister.

My next comment was out of my mouth before I even realised it, “Well I suppose then at one time she did love me, she punished me for being naughty.”

Looking into mom’s eyes I then said, “You have never punished me mom, even though I’m sure I’ve given you reason. Do you really love me?”

You could have heard a pin drop. Mom looked at me, the hurt visible in her eyes and very seriously said, “You are a wonderful son, don’t ever forget that. The day I feel you deserve a spanking, I promise you that you will get the hiding of a lifetime!

It took three years before that warning came true. I screwed up, big time and I got the spanking of my life from my mom.

This is what happened:

Due to the economic crisis in the country, I made some bad choices and as a result ended up in some difficulty, financially.

Things came to a head when my long-suffering wife felt she and the rest of the family had suffered enough so she decided, after much thought, to offer to take over running the finances. Well I lost it! Totally lost it and I threw a king-size tantrum!

Totally shocked, my wife left the house only to reappear about 10 minutes later with one very irate mom in tow. Between the pair of them,  they had obviously decided on a course of action as my wife disappeared upstairs reappearing a couple of minutes later brandishing the biggest hairbrush I have ever seen.

Handing the brush to mom she said, “Here you are, I have had this ready for some months now and I think it is time it was used.”

Turning to me she said, “I want you to go upstairs and change out of those clothes and put on the pair of swim shorts I’ve laid out on the bed. Then you are to come back downstairs. Now Go!” This was followed by a firm smack on my butt.

Mom sat down on the couch and looked at me saying, “Several years ago you accused me of not loving you because I had never punished you. I promised you that I would spank you if I felt you deserved it. Well my boy, that day has come. I’m going to give you the spanking of your life, then you will spend some time in the corner and after that, your darling wife will also punish you. If giving you a spanking shows you that we love you, then by the time we are finished you will know we love you Very much and every time you sit down for the next week you will feel the intensity of that love.”

Having said that,  mom drew me close to her left knee and keeping the pressure on my arm gently drew me over her lap having opened her legs in order for me to lay draped over her right knee while her left leg was laid over the back of my thighs trapping me in place. Mom wasted no more time. Just because she had never punished me did not mean she did not know how! She swung that brush like a pro! Her opening salvo of a dozen strokes had me squirming around like I had ants in my pants. The second dozen had me crying out in agony as the wicked brush landed half a dozen times on exactly the same spot before moving to the opposite cheek with the same result. The third salvo landed on the junction between thigh and bottom, right on the crease. A dozen stokes all on the one spot. I howled, cried, and pleaded but the fire kept burning.

Then mom began to scold me, punctuating each sentence with half a dozen strokes, given hard and relentlessly. “If you continue to behave like a child you will be treated like one.” Then another salvo of spanks rained fire on my ruined bottom.

“Now my son do you know mommy loves you?” Another volley scorched my defenceless bottom, now a deep blood red in colour with white blotches in places. I cried like a baby, no longer a man, a dad, with a family of my own, reduced to a little boy, howling as he lay over his mommy’s lap, his crimson bottom mute testimony to the effectiveness of a hairbrush wielded with precision.

“I’m sorry mommy! Sorry I doubted that you love me! Sorry for being a big brat and losing my temper…”

“Are you going to misbehave again?” Mom questioned me as the fire storm raged uncontrollably on my very sorry bottom due to the punishing brush striking flesh with monotonous regularity. Then suddenly there was no more noise; just silence, except for my sobbing and crying. During this lull in the battle I tried to scream out for mercy, pleading with mom to stop spanking me. However, because of the tears and crying nothing came out; certainly nothing that was understandable. Mom waited a few more seconds and when I still had not answered her last question, she repeated the question, only now she adjusted her aim and scorched my previously untouched thighs, causing me to levitate off her knee as every muscle in my body reacted to this attack.

“No no, please no more! I’ll be good mommy. Please mommy no more…”

Up until then it was the most humbling experience of my life. Here I was,  a middle-aged man, crying and pleading for the storm of fire to die down, all because I’d acted like a little boy and threw a tantrum.

Mom helped me stand, my hands immediately cradling my ruined bottom as I began to dance franticly trying to rub the burn away.

Turning to my wife, mom said, “Ruth, take this little boy and put him in the corner so he can think about what he has done and also think about the punishment he still has coming to him from you.

Ruth grabbed hold of my ear and walked, dragging me to the corner, where she made me stand, my nose pressing against the wall. Smacking my bottom hard, she admonished me to stop rubbing; telling me that mom had not gone to all the trouble of lighting the fire for me to try to extinguish the blaze. “Put those naughty hands on top of your head and don’t you dare rub your bottom any more or so help me I will send you to fetch that cane you have hidden next to your wardrobe and use that on your sorry ass.”

In abject terror at the threat of a caning on top of the punishment I had already received as well as the one still to come, my hands fairly flew to the top of my head where I quickly interlocked them together with such force my knuckles turned white.

The whole time I stood in the corner all I could visualise was the hairbrush impacting my bottom, now beginning to show the early stages of bruising. My roasted rump smarted something terrible. It felt like some sadist was pricking the sore cheeks with a very large needle. Of course, it did not help that the tops of my legs smarted also, serving as a constant reminder of my punishment for not answering mom’s very rhetorical questions quickly enough.

I thought of trying to wheedle my way out of the second spanking, the devil on one shoulder having a running battle with the angel on the other shoulder. Eventually, I resigned myself to accepting the fact that this spanking was long overdue.

Finally, in reality only about fifteen minutes later, I heard Ruth call my name, “Malcolm, seeing as you so wanted to rub your bottom I am going to allow you this once. You may rub as you come here to me.”

I turned and slowly walked towards my lovely wife sitting demurely on the couch. Knowing that she is right handed I stood next to her right knee still furiously rubbing my aching butt.

Ruth looked up at me and asked, “What do you say? Where are your manners little boy?”

I quickly realised that Ruth wanted me to thank her for allowing me to rub my butt and very quickly responded ensuring her of my heartfelt thanks and offering sincere apologies for my rudeness.

Ruth looked at me again, her visage stern and unyielding. “Enough,” was all she said and in mid rub I stopped and looking into her eyes, I leaned forwards and draped myself over her knee.

As I did so, I felt her hands at the waistband of my swim shorts as she dragged them to my knees.

“This mama likes to see where to spank that naughty bottom so the shorts are coming down.”

In the position I was in, I was not about to argue, so stoically I endured the final humiliation my actions caused.

Ruth picked up the brush, immediately lifting it high before bringing it crashing down on the bruised bottom laid out so defenceless before her. A few seconds later, it crashed down on the opposite side. I cried out aloud, already in distress as the pain quickly elevated and overran my defences. Only two strokes and already I was sobbing, pleading out for my wonderful loving wife to have mercy on me. I don’t remember much more than that, but later Ruth confirmed she had given me 24 strokes. The whole episode over her knee had lasted less than 2 minutes but had felt like an eternity.

Mom had stopped her.  I lay on Ruth’s lap until I came down from that magical place called spank-land fifteen minutes later. Emotionally drained and exhausted I cried myself to sleep, waking to find myself cuddled in Ruth’s arms.

I am not sure how long it was before I stood up. Ruth preserving what little dignity I had left dressed me before telling me I still had to thank mom for punishing me so soundly.

I turned around and fell into the most loving arms a little well spanked boy could ever wish for, his mommy. Yes, I call her mom but in that moment as mom hugged me, she was mommy.

Finally, I knew I had a mommy who loved me.   

Authors note: I want to thank the lovely Jools for her inspiration and editing, as well as the encouragement she has given me in writing this story        

    

So much time, so few spankings

It seems as though so much time has passed us by, after all it is almost the season to be jolly. For naughty boys to worry about whether or not they made it off the "Naughty" list. This is one naughty boy that has no such worries. Firstly in February of this year my Top had to close down her premises, closely followed by my other spanker moving to a different village where I now have little or no contact with her. I though it would not be a problem as there are so many mommies and aunties out there that would dearly love to spank a bottom like mine. After all they are very good at threatening me. Now my mama has announced that it is over, time for this naughty boy to grow up.
How do I tell the story of exactly why I need spanking, that it not only corrects my behaviour but sets my sails.
I lie in bed at night long after mama has fallen asleep wondering if she really cares about me and my needs. I don't need much, a kiss and a hug every now and again. If I get stroppy or lippy, a quick bend over my knee,  WHAP WHAP WHAP WHAP WHAP WHAPWHAP WHAP WHAP and goodbye lip and strop.
No Mario you are a man, you have to behave like a man, put aside this childish nonsense, be a man.

I do not want to grow up, I cannot care for myself.I need to be guided and told what to do, mama makes the decisions not me.
If she wont look after me what shall I do?

You Deserve a Hiding Young Man

“You deserve a hiding young man and I am going to give it to you.”

I knew I was in trouble the moment I heard Helen utter these words in the store. I had been teasing my daughter all afternoon and although my darling wife ignored my antics, it all came to a head when my, our long time, friend had decided enough was enough.

“Just ignore him, Helen, he is only looking for attention.”

“Well,” said Helen, “he is going to get it and it won’t be the kind of attention he wants. That I guarantee.”

 Strangely enough the threat worked, we had not seen Helen for many years until she returned to the UK from South Africa after the passing of her husband and settled in the area. We had rekindled the friendship and we soon felt completely at ease in each other’s company.

Helen was alone and my wife and I wanted her to feel part of a family so we made the extra effort to include her in our lives. I discovered she possessed a keen sense of humour albeit on a short fuse. For many years Helen had seemed to live in her husband’s shadow, content to allow him to be the centre of attention. Now on her own she had allowed her own sense of humour and her own sense of right and wrong to develop.

I was about to discover she took no prisoners. In a moment alone I asked Helen, in a roundabout way if she was serious about punishing me. Looking me in the eye, she replied, “you are like a little naughty boy sometimes and today you have gone too far. Yes I fully intend to give you the hiding you have been looking for. Not today but on Monday, Ruth says you are coming round to change the light fittings in my lounge and entrance hall. We will settle this then.” With that she sealed my fate and stopped all my fun.

Nothing more was said about the incident over the course of the weekend and on Monday morning I took my wife to work. As I dropped her off, she said to me, “now don’t forget that you are expected at Helen in 15 minutes. Stop at home and get your tools and there is a box for Helen on the small table in the lounge, take it with you, she needs it.”

“Yes ma’am,” I said before driving off.

I stopped at home, picked my tools and ladder as well as the box for Helen and made my way to her home. I parked my car and unloaded everything and carried them to the door before pressing the bell to announce my arrival.

Helen came to the door and greeted me with a kiss on the cheek, helping me take the tools and equipment inside. I handed Helen the box my wife had instructed me to take. Helen took it and after asking me if I wanted a cup of tea proceeded into the kitchen box in hand. I sat down in the lounge and waited for my cup of tea.

We sat and chatted while I drank my tea and when I was finished I took my cup through to her kitchen and got started on swapping the fittings around. I cut off the power to the lights and proceeded to remove both fittings before fitting first the fitting in the passage as it was the easier of the two.

It was while I was on the ladder drilling the mounting holes for the fitting that Helen took the box I had brought and removed what was inside the box, hefting it with a smile and a soft comment.

“Oh yes this will do very nicely.” Turning to me, Helen said, “look, little one and see what mama has sent me, I think this will teach you that it is not acceptable to behave like a little brat in town and embarrass both mama and myself.”

From my position on top of the ladder I looked down at Helen sat on the sofa with the Acacia wood bath brush in her hand. It looked fairly innocuous, the handle about 7 or 8” inches long and the business end 3 inches wide and about 3/8 inch thick by 4 inches long.

I knew this brush well having bought it for my wife several years ago. It had lived, hanging from the wardrobe door handle ever since. Having being used only once to punish me by my friend Nita.

She had given me a dozen very hard spanks on my boxer clad bottom for lying to her. Now 2 years later I was about to feel it’s bite once again.

My face must have been a picture as Helen chuckled and said, “Cheer up little one, a smack bum never hurt anyone much, well it does but only for a little while and you deserve a good smack bum for being such a brat.”

I muttered under my breath, something along the lines of it not being her bum in the firing line and that she would not find it so funny if the roles were reversed.

I carried on fitting the light and once it was secured I switched on the breaker and switched on the light. “Wow it makes such a difference having this light here instead of in the passage. Nice one kiddo.”

I packed my tools away and once everything was complete I walked into the lounge to find that Helen had placed a straight backed chair in the middle of the room and was sat on it. She looked at me and sternly told me to remove my shoes and socks as well as my trousers.

“I had hoped I would never have to do this to you little boy but you have brought this on yourself. You can leave your boxers on for now.”

“Helen, do you have to…”I pleaded, fear gripping my heart now that the moment of truth had arrived.

Helen looked at me, tapped her leg and softly said, “come on little one, Aunty Helen wants to have  nice little chat with you, park your little tush sunny side up here over aunties lap. Remember from now on I am Aunty Helen, not plain Helen.” She made sure my bottom was positioned exactly where she wanted it and slowly began to spank me.

The opening round was not particularly hard, however she did manage to spank me around a second apart, making sure she covered every square inch of my bottom. The second round began as the first, however, this time Helen upped the intensity, lifting her hand higher than before, trading frequency for intensity. By now there was a definite sting attached to every spank and I began to squirm around trying to avoid the punishing spanks. My hand made several forays into the battle zone to try deflect Helen’s hard palm until she tiring of warning me to remove my hand simply disabled it by grabbing it and holding it out of the way. Not satisfied because of the wriggling around Helen opened her lap and swung her right leg over the back of mine and trapped me in position.

Now I was trapped Helen stopped and lowered my boxers exposing my bottom, now beginning to change colour from pink to red. Picking up the brush she resumed the spanking. I was taken by surprise at the sting of the brush, the previous outing had been over my boxers not bare and the difference was great, much more sting, the acacia wood is light and therefore there is little or no bruising associated with a spanking using this brush. I was soon to discover my stoicism was to my detriment Helen intended for me to cry and the longer I held out the longer the spanking went on for.

In the end Helen’s strong right arm held sway and I burst into tears long before she stopped spanking me. Once the floodgates opened there was no stopping them, the tears poured from my eyes, and I began to wail and sob in genuine remorse. Promises of exemplary behaviour and obedience to her every will flowed from my lips in a seemingly never ending litany.

Of course like all mothers, Helen aimed to spank me to tears and once this was done she kept me crying long enough to drive out all the pent up emotions and ensure release, the kind of release brought about through a spanking.

Helen stopped spanking my bottom, now visibly red an swollen, great blotches of colour marring the surface and allowed me to finish crying before leading me to the corner while she made us a cup of tea.

Calling me from the corner a short while later Helen helped me make myself presentable before giving me a long cuddle and telling me I was forgiven.          

How To Spank Your Man: About WSP

How To Spank Your Man: About WSP: Click here to read lots more about Monica Wilder's  unique approach to  f/m spanking .. .

Part 4 of Julie, a hairbrush and myself

The two exhausted lovers fell asleep still caressing each other. Their exertions this evening had tired them out, Mario fell asleep a huge smile on his face, true, his bottom still throbbed from the exuberant spanking his lady love gave him, her passion reaching new heights due to Mario’s surprisingly excellent skills both orally and his talented prick. The spanking though hard was responsible for enabling both sated lovers to reach new heights of passion.

Julie had long harboured a desire, not only to spank the young man in her arms, but also to take him into her bed. Never in her wildest dreams could she have imagined just how talented a lover he was. All she knew was that she wanted him, not only to spank again but as her lover. The possibility of having a relationship in which she was the dominant partner with the young man was high. Mario was an extremely well mannered young man and having being raised in a home where his mom, a strict disciplinarian ruled ensured Mario responded naturally to a woman being in charge. She too fell asleep with a smile on her face having lost count of the number of orgasms she had this evening.

The singing birds awakened them, Mario became aware that he was not alone in the bed and as the realisation dawned on him that his companion was Julie, he turned towards the still sleeping beauty and began to gently caress her body. Julie smiled as she awoke to the delightful caressing. She looked around and realised with a shock that it was morning.

“Mario cut that out, we should never have gone to sleep like we did, I promised your mom I would have you back home by 11pm. Oh shit, Marta is going to be so angry with me.”

Her narrative was interrupted by a loud banging on the front door, Julie put her gown on and rushed to open the door, finding a very irate Marta standing on the doorstep.

Julie said; “Hi Marta what a pleasant surprise, I was just remarking to Mario that I should have called to let you know that Mario was going to spend the night, I am sorry I didn’t phone you last night.”

“That was most inconsiderate Julie, I had a bad night last night as a result of fretting about Mario…” Marta broke off as a naked Mario came into the lounge looking for his boxers calling to Julie; “hey Julie, have you seen my boxers…” Mario faltered and stopped as he spied his mom standing next to Julie, the look on her face as she took in his naked body one of complete disbelief.

Mario tried to cover his genitals but Marta stopped him with a look that said, “Don’t even bother to try cover up”. Marta spoke, “What is going on here, Julie, Mario, will you two tell me exactly what is going on here, why are there clothes strewn all over the lounge?”

Both Julie and Mario looked around at the scene of devastation, Julies bra hung on a lamp shade, Mario’s boxers lay on the coffee table and Julies panties lay on the floor next to the sofa.

Marta closed the door and walked into Julie’s sitting room, spotting the dresser in the corner on which lay her instrument of choice, a maple hairbrush. She walked to the dresser and picking up the brush, turned and sat down in the middle of the sofa and said; “Right, what have we here, two naughty children, one of which has no clothes on and I surmise the other only has her gown on. I want both of you, now in front of me, Julie remove that robe, Mario stop trying to put your boxers on, they will only have to come off. I am going to spank both of you”

“Come on Marta, you can’t be serious, You have no right to expect me a grown woman to go over your knee and be punished like a little girl.”

Marta got up and walked towards Julie and lifted the back of her robe exposing her bare bottom before smacking it hard, causing Julie to yelp at the sting.

“And these marks, who put these marks there?”

Julie had the grace to blush, “well we were playing last night and Mario well you know…”

Turning to Mario, Marta said, “Mmmm not bad Mario, You have been taking notes. Did you use this?” as she brandished the brush.

Now it was Mario’s turn to blush, He said “Yes mom I, I mean we were playing and yes I spanked Julie, It was playing mom, honest.”

“Well Julie was it a hard spanking?”

“Yes and No, Like we said, we were playing although Mario did get a little carried away with the brush. You seriously can’t be thinking of spanking me, last time I looked both Mario and I are adults, we broke no laws.”

“True Julie but you broke a promise to me, what do you do if your children break a promise to you, or don’t do as they are told.”

“Well Marta I punish them…” Julie fell silent as she realised she had agreed with Marta that breaking a promise regarding the care of a friends child albeit a grown child meant the same as if the child had being disobedient. With a shudder Julie shrugged off her robe and like Mario stood naked in front of Marta.

Marta looked at Julie and said softly, “Good girl, glad to see you take responsibility for your actions.”  Grasping Julie’s arm she led Julie to the sofa where she sat down and told Julie exactly what she wanted Julie to do.

Turning to Mario she directed him to the corner and told him to turn towards the corner and not to look. Mario nodded and without further ado walked to the nearest corner where he buried his nose into the corner and grasping his hands together he placed them on top of his head.

In the corner he heard Julie’s  softly spoken words to his mom, “Marta, please don’t do this, not in front of Mario.”

Marta’s  reply was louder and Mario had absolutely no trouble in hearing her reply, “Oh no Julie that won’t work, I was really worried last night, I came over here only to find you and my son cavorting around naked as the day you were born, I can only surmise that you seduced him, and looking at his bottom I see you spanked him as well. The question I am asking is did you spank him as part of the sex last night or did you spank him for something else? No you did the crime together and therefore you get to be punished together. Now you have told your children as well as Mario to do this, now over my knee little girl.”

Having no more arguments the lovely 35 year old woman lowered herself over Marta’s lap.

“Well well, what have we here, a naughty girl who seduces innocent young boys for her own pleasure after telling said innocent boy’s mother he would be home by 11pm.”

Marta, I can tell you he is not as innocent as he looks why…”

Julie’s comment was cut short by a hard spank directly to Julies sit spot, the sting took her breath away, and was closely followed by a second equally hard spank on the same spot.

Marta spoke as she delivered these spanks; “I do not recall asking your opinion young lady, furthermore I would advise what you say as I do not tolerate cheek or back chat and young lady until you have earned the right to call me by name it is Ma’am or Aunty Marta.”

Marta punctuated the last part by giving Julie several hard spanks that had her gasping and writhing in a fair amount of pain.

“Julie you better give Aunty your right hand darling, Aunty doesn’t want you to reach back and have me hit you on the hand or wrist.”

A muted “Yes Ma’am” came as Julie reached her right hand back where it was pulled up into her shoulder and with that Marta began to spank Julie.

Laying the brush aside for the moment, Marta started the spanking by hand. Hard spanks that quickly had Julie kicking and squirming, her gasps of pain telling Marta she was struggling to cope. Marta always aimed to have her children crying during the warm up, she expected the same for Julie, only once she saw the tears and heard the crying would she end the warm up before switching to her main weapon, normally her hair brush. She then used the brush to drive the lesson she was teaching home. With that in mind she upped the intensity and before long had the lovely woman across her knee weeping as the pain steadily built up. Of course a half dozen hard spanks on Julie’s sit spots caused the flood gates to open quite quickly.

Julie felt a whole gamut of emotions as she kicked and pleaded throughout her spanking, she had forgotten just how much a real spanking hurt and the little play spanking last night, in no way prepared her for the intensity of this real spanking. Like any other penitent child she kicked and cried pleaded and cajoled, all to no avail as Marta was not about to be deterred in her mission.

Mario could hear the sounds of the spanking but could not see the action, had he been able he would have been treated to the sight of Julie kicking her legs in response to the spanking, her legs flew open on several occasions and Julies whole vulva was exposed. Had he been able to see, he would have seen how Julie tried in vain to avoid the punishing spanks. The spanking went on and on, Julie began to sob now, great racking sobs from deep inside her as she experienced for the first time since leaving her parents home, the agony of a hard punishment. Her pleas had gone unheeded and she could not move, her trapped arm held her on Marta’s lap as her capable right hand lit fire after fire.

Marta paused and reached out her hand and grasped the handle of the brush, gripping it tightly she looked down at the sobbing woman across her knee and said; “Julie your ordeal is almost over, I want you to be a good girl and take the final part of this spanking in  the same way you have taken the first part.”

Julie looked up at Marta and saw the brush in her hand, she cried out “oh no please Ma’am not the brush, please not the brush.”

“Oh yes Julie, naughty children always get the brush on their bare bottom, because you have been so good I am only going to give you 12 spanks, then it will be over. Do you understand me Julie?

“Yes Ma’am, I understand.” Said Julie as she sobbed some more, the thought of the brush terrifying her.

“Hold on tight little girl,” said Marta as she lifted her arm and with a snap brought the brush down hard, keeping the same intensity she quickly delivered the remaining 11 spanks as Julie kicked and roared her pain for all the world to hear.

As Julie sobbed over her lap, Marta gently caressed her, soothing her and allowing the still crying lady to calm down. As Julie became aware of her surroundings once again she looked at Marta and asked, “Is it over, now ma’am?”

“yes my sweetheart, it is over. I would normally make you go and put your nose in the corner but in this case I will not do that. You can get up if you are able.”

“Would Mario have to go and stand in the corner after he has been spanked Ma’am?”

“Yes Julie he would”.

Well then I think I should be treated the same way, don’t you agree?”

“Alright Julie, you are right, go and stand in the corner, put your hands on the top of your head and push your nose into the corner, don’t you dare rub your bottom, if you do I will take you back over my knee for a repeat dose with this lovely hair brush.” Julie got up and scurried to the corner, Marta hurrying her along with a sharp slap to her thigh saying “Scoot, corner, now!”

Turning to Mario she called him to her side. “Shame on you son, barely home for a week and already you have made it three spankings this week, come on over you go.” As Mario lay over her lap Marta looked at his bare bottom and saw the red marks plainly visible, “Mario I see Julie marked you last night as well.” Turning to Julie, Marta asked; “Julie did you use the brush on his tush?”

“No ma’am, only my hand last night.”

Marta chuckled and looking down at Mario  said, “Well son looks like it is three in this week, well let’s make this one just as memorable as the last one.”

With that  Marta lifted her hand and began to spank, She knew that Mario could handle a harder spanking than Julie could and set out to make sure Mario was crying long before she stopped the warm up. Because of the fact that Mario was lying on the sofa, it meant his legs were lying flat  and that meant his thighs and the back of his legs were accessible to Marta and well within range of her hand. When Marta had covered all of Mario’s bottom Marta simply carried on southwards to his knees before swapping sides and heading northwards again. Mario bucked and kicked wildly at this fresh assault on virgin territory and by the time Marta had completed two rounds Mario was already in spankland. He sobbed, howled and cried as the tender flesh on his thighs as well as the back of his legs was set ablaze.

Mario found himself, no longer the highly trained self assured non commissioned officer, but a small boy and just like a small boy found himself reverting to calling Marta mommy. “Mommy, please I am sorry I was a naughty boy please mommy, stop, you’re killing me Please mommy no more.”

“No Mario I am not killing you, nobody ever died from a little smack bum, the way you are performing, one would think you have never been spanked before. Stop wriggling like that, you are going to need all your energy for crying.”

Several minutes and many spanks later Marta stopped spanking, by now Mario no longer tried to get away, he simply lay there crying.

“Mario, look at mommy son,” said Marta as she gripped the brush in her firm right hand, I am going to treat you the same as Julie, so you will get a dozen spanks with the brush.”

Mario turned his head and looked at Marta, “Yes mommy.”

He turned his head and prayed the ordeal would soon be over.

Marta lifted her hand and using the same intensity brought the brush down on Mario’s bottom 12 times. Mario cried out at each one finally he lay there just sobbing, inconsolable that his darling mother had to spank him again.

When Mario had recovered Marta sent him into the corner his hands laced together on top of his head and Marta called Julie to her, “Julie sweetheart, would you like a cuddle?”

“Oh God, yes please,” said Julie as she opened her arms out wide and literally fell into Marta’s arms sobbing afresh.

After a long while both women pulled away from each other and smiled. Julie looked at Marta and asked “Am I forgiven?”

With a smile on her face Marta said, of course you are forgiven, I have punished you and we put it all behind us. You are my best friend and you know I never hold a grudge.”

“No” said Julie, “you simply spank my bottom. Oh God it still hurts, can I call you Marta again now.”

“Yes you can, why don’t you put some clothes on and make us some coffee while I cuddle my son.” Said Marta as she looked at the sight of her son sobbing in the corner.

“Mario, my darling come to mommy,” she said opening her arms as Mario came towards her. She enveloped him in her arms and held him until he stopped crying. Once he was calm she sent him to get dressed with a gentle pat on the butt, saying for him to hurry as she needed to speak to both of them. As Mario left to get dressed Julie entered the room with a tray and three coffee mugs.

The two women chatted and as Julie settled down, she became more at ease, Recognising that her friend had something on her mind she spoke openly, wanting Marta to open up. “My God Marta you have a strong hand, I feel as though I won’t be able to sit for a week, my bum is so sore. You have something on your mind, what is it?”

Marta chuckled and said, “Well little girls who seduce other mommies sons deserve all they get. Seriously now I need to ask you to have Mario for a few days I have to go to Pretoria for a court review, my useless ex-husband is trying to take David and Grant away from me. If you ask me he needs a damn good spanking. It isn’t  fair on Mario but I need to sort this out. Also trying to keep you apart is not going to work and as you say you are both adults. All I ask is don’t break his heart, that boy is very precious to me.”

“I won’t break his heart Marta, I love him too, just not as a mother. Yes I would love to have him stay here, I will look after him, that is a promise.”

Just then Mario walked into the room and stood next to Marta, who turned to him and said, “Mario , mommy has to ask you to stay here at Julie for a few days, I have to go to Pretoria, Michael is trying to get full custody of your brothers. Julie has said you can stay, but I warn you, she has my permission to punish you if she sees fit, remember the old school rule, well it applies here too”

“Ok mom, do you know how long you will be away for?”

No Mario I think about three or four days, at the most a week so behave yourself, okay?”

“Yes mom, I understand, don’t worry, I am a big boy now.”

With that Marta said, I have to get going, it is a 5 hour drive to Pretoria and I must be there by 3pm so I will say goodbye for now.”