Don Barton Spanking Tales, Book 1

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Murmurs and a few stifled giggles ran around the room. Every girl knew what that meant. So too did the teachers. OK, since you are admitting trying to hurt my feelings with the silent treatment, don’t you think there is a better, more appropriate answer to that question? Samantha was in blue jeans and her Eddie Bauer flannel shirt, and she started cupping and stroking my hot cheeks with her graceful fingers. A poor crying Karen thought it was over, but Mummy was reaching for the slipper. Karen looked to the mirror and saw it, she looked over her shoulder, up to meet her Mummy’s eyes.

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over inhibitions we were going to start the weekend off with a spanking “musical chairs” style. She told us guys to drop our pants. The sight of seven naked butts waiting punishment brought a round of applause from the women. I was bent over the table staring straight ahead unwilling to meet any of the guys eyes when Aunt Kay said “ok ladies ten of your best just like we planned”. She tells me of her childhood, her school days, and what she does now. We talk of spanking and her love of spanking pictures. Then she is confident enough to tell me her needs. As often happens she wants a slow, understanding, patient build up to going over my knee. She is very keen to try implements, she hopes I like her bottom etc etc, and says she trusts me already….how nice! I hesitated, eyes downcast, hoping I wouldn’t have to answer, but she was in no mood to be patient with me. “Tell me,” she demanded again, “if you know what’s good for you.”“On the bench,” I mumbled and turned to go. “Yes, and I want you to think about why you’re being punished,” she said as I left the room.I didn’t do anything wrong and you always treat me like you think I am an idiot! And if I took the blame for this mistake I WOULD be an idiot. But I’m not! And I am tired of being told I am!!”

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Smoothing her dress over her stinging bottom, she followed him downstairs, determined to be the gracious hostess he expected. Ooooh.’ She whispers to herself. I turn, “hello luv, I have a lot of those over here if you would like to browse.”

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All the words looked so official, having been typed by the school secretary. And signed by her teacher in ‘Quink’ blue, fountain pen ink. He did as she instructed, and put himself in the corner, with his trousers and undershorts in a pool at his feet. In this situation five or ten years ago, he might have been seething with injustice—the bank teller made a mistake, and then he got grounded, and now here he was about to get paddled and then – horribly, to receive a caning, too. But, now, he put aside his ego, and focused on humility. His ranting was childish and the silent treatment was suicidal. What had he been thinking? And now he was going to get what he deserved. He felt foolish, guilty, and ashamed. A few tears came to his eyes and then rolled down his cheeks. But you know that the silent treatment is a manifestation of hostility, and that it is hurtful, don’t you?” We’d have to work on the logistics. I’m a little small for a man of my age, but I still tower over Samantha. I would barely fit over her lap, and my weight might be more than she’d like to support, especially if she gave me the kind of spanking I wanted and it drove me to squirming.

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I heard her raise the paddle again as she resumed my punishment. This time it was forty strokes, slow and measured. Each one bringing an involuntary cry of pain from me as the paddle burned across my naked bottom. “I see I’m getting your attention,” she sarcastically commented as she laid a particularly hard stroke at the bottom of my cheeks. As for my size, I inherited my father’s genes, not my mother’s. Dad, who died of cancer when I was eleven, was also smaller than average, while my mom is a large, big-boned woman. Time to leave them, until the next time…Mummy is downstairs, putting the slipper away, until next time. She knows this will not be the last time it will be used, it will probably have just been the first of many.

After she gave me the last stroke, she replaced her paddle in the drawer and told me I had a few minutes to reflect before I received the strap. She walked out of the room and I lay there clenching my poor cheeks trying to relieve some of the sting.

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When the lecture was over Debby said “OK, lets show Sandra what I’ve been talking about.” She told me to get up and stand by the chair. She told me to “get ready” which means STRIP! FAST! I took my clothes off without meeting Sandra’s eyes. Debby walked over to the chair and pulled me over her lap. She shifted me into position and said to Sandra “see this could have solved all your marriage problems.” Debby started slow, lecturing all the time about manners, bad habits and generally being a good husband. The paddle came down harder and faster until I was moaning and tears were in my eyes. Debby would interject her lecture to me by saying things to Sandra like, “See, I told you it works” and, “Don’t forget, you’re the judge of what it takes”. When Debby finally let up she gave me a couple of seconds to catch my breath still over her lap and said to Sandra “see how easy it is?” I was sent to the corner, still naked while Debby and Sandra talked a little about what had happened. I heard Sandra say that it was certainly interesting and gave her something to think about. After Sandra left, Debby rubbed a cooling lotion on my butt (which she never does, after all its supposed to hurt), and gave me a big hug and kiss for being such a good guy, helping her to help her friend. I had been on my best behavior for a couple of weeks because I knew that Debbie was having a really hard time at work. It wasn’t bad enough that she lost out of the promotion she was entitled to, but Ed from another division with a bad reputation as a sneak and manipulator got it. Debbie’s best friend at work Elaine was calling every night to complain about “the new” guy. Every day Debbie came home more upset and on edge. Having signed the DWC contract I knew I had committed myself to except any discipline that Debbie sees fit at any time. Having Debbie so tense and nervous at home really started to effect me, even though I was doing my best to be on top of everything at home, I could tell that “office trouble” was causing Debbie anxiety and stress. Every night, while the calls between Elaine and Debbie became longer and longer, I tried to be cheerful and accommodating.I wouldn’t say that. If you phrased it that you hurt my feelings yesterday by treating me like an incompetent, and then you grounded me unfairly, I would agree with that statement.” She felt calm, no longer angry. She stopped patting her palm and ran her fingers through his hair, lovingly. But she was resolute, definitely resolute. She thought to herself, “Sometimes spanking his bottom is very arousing, and gives me pure joy; other times, not so much. I’m sure it’s difficult for him, but my part isn’t easy either. Spanking with purpose requires strength of character, because I am always tempted to be lenient. And, really, he is a pitiful specimen of a recipient. He’s not the least bit brave in the first place; any decent paddling has him blubbering and begging before I’m half-way done. And he can hardly take a caning at all: his bottom is adorable and inviting, but it invariably cuts easily, so he usually gets at most about a half-dozen medium-strength strokes. The bottom line is that even when he is being punished he is a self-centered brat who has no appreciation of my efforts.” That was ten years ago. I have rarely gone a month without her needing to spank me. In fact, on our wedding night, as we finally got into the car, she asked, “How’s your bottom?”