The recently posted story is pretty long so I thought you might like a taster to see if it appeals. It certainly appeals to me, as being spanked by a dominant lady on my bare bottom is still one of my abiding pleasures. It happens to Earnest in the summer of 1932 and all else that follows in the full story emanates from this defining moment. Pants down opportunities in Lockdown are few and far between. May my imagination compensate. Alfred Roy
‘What you did was reprehensible, Earnest.’
‘She asked for it.’
‘She did not ask to be kicked. There is no excuse.’
‘She annoyed me.’
‘And you, Earnest, showed a temper. A very childish temper.’
‘I’m sorry. I’ll go and apologise.’
‘You certainly will.’
‘Yes.’
‘After I have dealt with you.’
‘Sorry?’
‘After I have dealt with you. You were very childish, Earnest, and as such you will be punished as a child.’
‘What?’
‘You will be punished as a child would be punished Earnest. Am I making myself clear?’
‘No.’
‘I am going to spank you. Spank you for kicking your sister. And after I have done so you can go and apologise to her. Now, take down your trousers.’
And, saying this, she stood up and I saw and sensed her full height and the severity of her demeanour.
She had meant what she said.
My mind was in turmoil. A woman I had not known less than a week before was proposing to take down my trousers and spank me. No, she wasn’t proposing, she was going to do it. I sensed it in her eyes and her stern expression. I stood frozen to the spot, letting the unfamiliar words sink in. My mother had never spanked me, not that I can ever remember, even though she had occasionally threatened both Holly and me. And our father, regularly absent on diplomatic trips abroad, considered it a distasteful task best left to the boarding school pedagogues. Or so he told me on the rare occasions when I displeased him. But my school used a cane or strap and I, mercifully, had suffered only the latter and only once. Three strokes, bending down, for inattention in a Latin class. A spanking, especially from a woman, especially with my trousers down, was to be an alien experience.
‘I have never been spanked. Can’t you just stop my pocket money?’
‘I could, but you need, in my opinion, a harsher lesson.’
‘What if I refuse?’
‘Refuse what, Earnest?’
‘Refuse to let you spank me.’
‘You can’t.’
‘Or refuse to take down my trousers.’
‘Then I shall do it for you.’
‘You have no right.’
‘I have every right. I have your mother’s permission.’
‘I don’t believe you.’
‘Believe what you wish Earnest, but if you do not take down your trousers this minute it will be the worse for you.’
‘But I have never been spanked.’
‘Then it is time you were, this afternoon shows it is richly deserved and overdue.’
‘Please miss, let me off.’
‘Earnest, trousers down. Now.’
The last instruction, her first sign of anger, cut off my tearful pleading. As I fumbled with the belt of my short summer trousers, she pulled out the chair and sat down in it again. Standing to the right of her I saw her smooth her skirt and pat her knee. The indication was clear. I was to be spanked as a small boy, even though I had just turned twelve. The shame of this realisation coupled with the dropping of my shorts to my ankles increased my distress and I started to blub even more. I pleaded with her again to let me off but her answer was to pull me towards her by my left arm and up end me over her lap. It was a strange position I had never been in before. I saw the carpet rising up to meet my lowering face, I felt the warmth of her body on my waist, and I experienced her lifting and positioning me so that my bottom was exactly where she wanted it to be. If I had any doubt about being spanked this was the moment when it deserted me. And strangely it was also the moment when I seemed to calm a little. Faced with the inevitable I had to steel myself for this new and unfamiliar experience. I took deep breaths and waited for her to begin. For a moment she did nothing, clearly looking at my prone figure and determining her action, or so I thought. Everywhere seemed to be so quiet, as if the birds had stopped singing, the wind cease blowing, and my sister stopping play. The latter, I later discovered, was certainly true. In the stillness I held my breath, ceased the incipient tears, and irrationally thought if I kept very quiet she would forget I was there. Forget I was over her knee, trousers down at ankles, bottom in the air, waiting to be spanked. As I said, an irrational thought killed by a sudden recommencement of action. And with hindsight I should have known. I felt her soft hands on my small summer top, lifting it up my back and then those same hands and fingers inserting themselves into the waist of my underpants and deftly pulling them down. All the way to my knees, both front and back. I sensed my nakedness. I sensed my small penis pressing into her skirt and I sensed the summer air on my now exposed bottom. All this happened in a moment and then those hands touched my bottom cheeks, almost exploring, and I gritted my teeth and screwed up my eyes. And then the left hand tightened at my waist and the right hand firmly slapped into my naked right cheek. I was being spanked for the first time and Miss Prudence Cavell, Aunt Prudence, was determined to make sure I remembered it. I was getting it on my bare bottom.
I do not know how long I was over her knee. Probably no more than five minutes, but in that five minutes I suffered the most painful experience that my small behind had ever endured. Aunt Prudence spanked with a vigour and a will and left not an inch of my naked bottom untouched. She only used her hand but it was a hand rich in expertise at finding the most tender flesh. Only my bottom and the uppermost part of my thighs felt her relentless sting but, much as I tried to anticipate, I never knew where she would strike next. After the first twenty or so I was in tears and pleading for her to stop but this only seemed to will her on to even harder slaps and by the time I had received another thirty or so those tears were practically exhausted and involuntary blubs and sobs had taken their place. Suddenly the smacks from her avenging palm got harder and slower and I both sensed and hoped that my spanking was coming to an end. Eventually it did, with two resounding slaps to each bare cheek, and in the silence that followed I could hear her breathing hard. I made no attempt to rise and she made no attempt to make me do so. I just lay there, exhausted and semi naked across her lap, as a calming influence came over both of us. My bottom was on fire with a burning and throbbing alien to my senses and my mind was still in turmoil from the whole experience. But gradually a warmth came over, a warmth which translated into an emotional feeling for my chastiser. Even whilst still over her knee I wanted to get up and kiss her and say thank you. Thank you for spanking me. Perhaps she sensed it, for after what seemed no more than a few seconds she gently tapped my scorched cheeks and bid me rise. The spanking was over.