F/m spanking, no sex
By the time I reached the top of the stairs the usual chip on my shoulder had given way to sweaty palms, and a knot in my stomach. I was now nothing more than a helpless, naughty boy who had been sent off to await discipline. I normally would have been livid by such humiliation, but deep down I knew I deserved it. I was racked with guilt, and I had been for a long time. I would learn years later that much of my acting out came from my troubled upbringing. I was angry, and rebellious because I needed a facade of toughness to hide the deep insecuirity that I felt each and every day. That night was the first time that anyone had dealt with it head on.
As I made my way down the hallway I felt like a dead man walking. Ashely had never spanked me before, but she had threatened me with it plenty of times. She always made it clear that a spanking from her would be something to dread. She often threatened to make it so I “wouldn’t sit down for a week,” and on another occasion she said that she would “blister” my ass. I figured they were empty threats, but I definitely wondered what it would be like if she ever followed through.
I looked down at the front door to see her standing there with her arms folded, watching me. I reached the bedroom door, and I paused as I touched the doorknob. “I am I really going to let her do this to me?” I thought. I wanted nothing more at that moment than to turn around, walk back down the stairs, and leave. But I couldn’t muster the will.
“Are we having second thoughts about doing what you’re told?” Ashely asked. “Because if you are then you better go straight to your room and start boxing up your things.”
Her voice was firm, and resolute. I couldn’t bear the thought of not only having to fend myself financially, but also being alienated from what was left of my family. I knew what I had to do. So I took a deep breath, turned the knob and walked inside.
I was surprised to find the room prepared for me. The lights were off but there was enough moon and street light coming through the windows to see my way around. On the bed was a wooden paddle. It was oval shaped, light brown, and about the size of a handheld mirror. It had to be about an inch thick, which I figured was not a good sign. Next to it was a bundle of black zip ties, and a spiral notebook with a note written in blue ink. There was a pen on top of it.
I picked up the notebook, and read the note. I could just barely make out the writing in the dim light coming in through the window.
I am very sad that it has come to this, but your behavior has become unmanagable. I have grounded you, taken your phone away, talked with you numerous times, but your attitude, and disobedience has only gotten worse. From now on, as a condition of living under my roof, your behavior will be subject to correction via corporal punishment.
Because you have avoided punishment before by sneaking out while you’re grounded, and arguing with me when I scold you, the punishment you receive tonight will have to be unusually severe. After tonight, the discipline you receive will be proportionate to your actions.
Whenever you are punished you will be told to do things. I may tell you to pull down your pants, to bend over (or assume some other position), or to fetch the item that I have chosen to spank you with. If you hesitate, or resist I will simply count to five. Every time I reach the number five you will be given 10 additional spanks.
Here is what is going to happen now. You will receive a paddling consisting of no less than 50 swats. I will add more if I think it’s necessary. I will also add more if I find that you are being uncooperative in any way. You will receive all 50 swats with your pants, and underwear down. You are required to hold still the entire time, and to make as little noise as possible. Any failure to comply with my instructions will result in a minimum of 10 additional spanks.
I am sure that all of this will be painful, and embarrassing for you, but I want you to know that I only do it for your benefit. I do it because I love you, and I want what’s best for you. I hope that after tonight I never have to spank you again. But know that as long as you live under my roof, you will abide by my rules, and you will be swiftly disciplined from now on if you break them.
Please sign and date this note at the bottom, and when you are ready to begin, simply slide it under the door so I can see it. Once you’ve done that you are to pull down your pants, as well your boxers, and bend over the edge of the bed with your knees on the floor.
Please note that any failure to follow these instructions will result in an automatic increase in the severity of your punishment.
I do this with a heavy heart and only because I care for you so deeply.
I felt such a mixture of emotions as I read her note. My heart sank into my stomach as I read that she intended to paddle me 50 times. But reading that she loved me, and cared for me was the very thing I needed to hear. It wasn’t something she said easily, or often, so I knew that she meant it. And she was right. I had acted pretty terrible to her, and if this was what needed to happen to change my behavior, then maybe I should let her do it. I picked up the pen off the bed and signed the note. I turned toward the door and squatted down at the floor. My hands started to tremble as I placed the paper on the carpet, and slowly pushed it underneath the door.
Only a moment after I heard her footsteps on the stairs. I jumped up, realizing that if she came in she would see that I had not yet followed her instructions. I hastily unbuttoned my jeans, pulled them down with my boxers and knelt over the bed. I heard her approach the door, and pick the paper up off the floor. My heart started to race. Oh God, this was it! I thought to myself. The door creaked open and the room was filled with light from the hallway. She stepped in, but didn’t close the door.
“Thank you for signing the note, and for obeying my instructions,” she said softly. Her voice was gentle, and soothing. “I want you to put your hands behind your back.”
I obeyed expecting her next move to be something involving a paddle smacking my behind. Instead I heard her walk toward me. I felt her hands on my wrists as she put them together, and wrapped the zip tie around them. She cinched it tight.
“How does that feel?”
“It’s too tight!” I said in a panicked voice.
“Ok, ok…don’t worry. I have scissors here.”
She cut the tie, then repeated the process all over again. This time the zip tie was firm, but not excessively so.
“This is just so it’s easier for me to spank you if you start moving around too much, and also to make sure I don’t hit your hands. I still expect you to do your best to hold still.” she said.
It began sinking in that I was in for some very serious discipline. I tried to offer an olive branch.
“Ashely? I’m really sorry I snuck out, and that I’ve been such a bad…” I said with my head turned toward her, not quite sure how to finish the sentence.
“A bad what? A bad boy?”
“Yeah,” I replied meekly.
She knelt down beside me, and leaned in with her head beside mine to make eye contact with me.”That’s good,” she said. “I’m glad you are sorry because you have been a very bad boy for a very long time. But like I said downstairs. Sorry’s gonna be enough to get you out of getting paddled tonight.”
She got back onto her feet and I heard her place the scissors on the night stand.
“I’m gonna go take a moment to prepare myself for what I have to do. I want you to stay exactly as you are and think about your behavior, and what’s gonna happen shortly as a result of that behavior. I’ll be back in 30 minutes.”
The door shut, and I heard her footsteps down the stairs, followed by the shutting of the front door. Later on I would find out that she spent that time walking the block working up the courage to give me the kind of spanking I deserved.
30 minutes? I thought. How was I supposed to wait that long? It’s not like a had a choice anymore with my pants at my ankles, and my wrists bound. I was completely at her disposal, fully submitted, and prepared for the just punishment that was now only a half an hour away.
I spent those 30 minutes doing exactly what I was told to do. I thought about how terrible I had been to my step-mother, and how painful the consequence was sure to be. I thought about how embarrassing it felt to be bent over her bed with my pants down at my ankles. But even that seemed fitting once I gave it some thought. I’m sure she had found it degrading to be talked back to, and disobeyed by her own son. The more I thought, the more intense the emotions became. I wanted to cry, but I was too proud.
My thoughts were interrupted by the sound of the front door, followed quickly by footsteps on the stairs, and then the hallway. As the steps got louder my mouth became as dry as a desert, and I could hear my own breath as it quickened. The bedroom door opened again spilling the hallway light into the room. I shut my eyes to shield them from the brightness.
The door shut, and the room went dark again. I made sure to face to my right so I could see her take the paddle from the bed. I didn’t want to be taken off guard. She walked to my right, picked up the paddle and slapped it against her hand softly.
“Cameron, I want you to explain to me exactly why you are getting punished today,” she said firmly.
“Because I snuck out of the house while I was grounded, and it hasn’t been the first time. Also, I’ve been rude and disrespectful to you.”
“That’s right,” she replied. “And what happens to naughty boys in this house when they do those types of things?”
“Please don’t make me say it,” I muttered, my voice dampened by the comforter.
“Excuse me? Was that a disobedient response I just heard?” she said in an incredulous tone. “Should we add to your punishment?”
“NOOOO, please!” I begged.
“Then answer the question, and say it clearly so I can hear you.”
“They get spanked,” I said lifting my head off of the bed for clarity.
“Thank you. That’s right. They get spanked. And that is what’s going to happen to you now.”
My humiliation was complete. Now it was time for the pain. The next thing I remember was Ashely’s hand on my back. I felt her weight press into me just as I felt the paddle up against my butt.
“After each smack I want you to count it, and say these exact words: I’m sorry for being a bad boy.”
“Ok,” I replied. I grit my teeth and braced for the worst.
The sting of the very first spank was jarring, and unwelcome, but thankfully not unbearable. I let out a sigh of relief, thinking that maybe Ashely wasn’t strong enough to spank me as hard as I feared she might.
“One. I’m sorry for being a bad boy.”
There was a pause, and I heard her take a deep breath before resting the wood on my flesh again. The second spank was harder. “Oww!” I replied under my breath. “Two. I’m sorry for being a bad boy!”
The third spank came right away. It landed right in the middle of my butt, and it was the hardest yet. “Ahhh!! Three! I’m sorry for being a bad boy!!” I cried loudly.
“Shhhh! I thought I warned you about making too much noise. You might as well get used to taking it like a man, because it’s only gonna get worse from here.”
Boy was she right. The next several spanks came much more quickly, and were nearly unbearable. I started moving from side to side, but Ashely put a stop to that by grabbing onto my waist and laying a series of smacks onto my bottom that came way too quickly for me to count. All I could do was kick my legs, and howl at the moon while her paddle laid down the law on my naked behind again, and again.
“That was number 15,” she said coldly. “I want you to keep counting the rest.”
She returned to her original position with her hand on my back. The next smack landed, and as excruciating as it was, I managed to count and say my penance.
The spanking, and counting continued until we reached number 25. By that time I was shouting my responses, and the paddle was making plenty of noise all on its own. Ashely walked over to the window to look outside.
“Well, it doesn’t look like any of the neighbors are taking notice of this, but I don’t think it’s considerate of us to make this much noise at 1am.”
She reached up to the window, and removed the fiberglass rod that was used to adjust the blinds.
“This will probably be quieter.” She woodshed it in the air twice as she walked back over to me.
I felt the rod tap against both of my butt cheeks. “Hold still and take your punishment. And stop making so much damn noise!” she hissed.
The first stroke with the rod landed, and it was excruciating. My bottom was thrashed from the paddle, and that thin whippy plastic felt like it was cutting right into my raw hide. I buried my head into the comforter and used it to muffle my cries.
Ashely brought the rod down on my bottom for a good 10 minutes, making me count all 25 strokes. In between strokes she lectured me on my “unacceptable behavior,” and my “severe need for discipline.” It might have been over sooner, but twice she had to count to five just to get me back in position. Those ten extra strokes she threatened me with were no joke. By the third time she only had to count to “one” and I was bent back over the bed in no time. That night I truly learned some discipline…at least enough to finally take my punishment without protest.
So much of that whole punishment was a blur of yelling, tears, and the awful sounds that came from the paddle, and the window rod as they struck my bottom. But something abou the last few strokes seemed to etch themselves in my memory in vivid detail. I counted all the way to 46, and by this time the rod was coming down about as hard as it would, and with no breaks between strokes. My voice cracked as I cried out.
“46! I’m sorry for being a bad boy!”
My pride was the only thing that kept tears from streaming down my face. Then suddenly the strokes stopped coming.
Shit, the rod just broke,” she said.
Five more strokes with the paddle sounded like the worst thing ever, considering the condition my butt was in. I tried to use the rod breaking as an opportunity.
“Ashely, do you want to use my belt?” I knew my belt was a pretty light weight material and there’s no way it would hurt as much as either of the two God-awful things she had used so far.
“That cheap little thing I bought you from Macy’s? Nice try. Just for that you’re getting the paddle again.”
My heart sank, and eyes well up tears of dread.
She came over to the bed and picked up the paddle for the second time. I felt it touch up against my bottom and rest there. I clenched the comforter with both fists as hard as I could. She removed the paddle from my butt. Then, to my surprise, nothing happened.
“You know what Cameron?” she said inquisitively. “I think the belt is exactly what you need right now. I plan on using the belt as a means of disciplining you in the future. I think it will be especially useful when you mouth off to me, and I need to give you a quick impromptu attitude adjustment. Tonight you’ll get to learn exactly what it feels like, so you can remember next time I tell you show me some respect.”
That sounded much better than getting the paddle, at least until I heard what came from her mouth next.
“I want you to stand back up, and pull your pants back up,” she said calmly.
“What?” I asked, sounding confused.
“Do what I said!!” she shouted.
I immediately jumped up and did as she instructed. She took the scissors from the night stand, and broke the tie around my wrists before coming around to the foot of the bed.
“Now face me,” she orded curtly.
I faced her. Her arms were folded, and her expression was stern.
“I’m gonna teach you how to take a butt whipping when I decide that you need one. I don’t care where we are, or what were doing. When I say ‘you’re getting the belt’ you need to start preparing to get your ass whipped. Is that understood?”
“Ok,” I said softly. The word “humiliation” was taking on a whole new meaning for me.
“Good,” she said crisply. “Once I tell you you’re gonna get it I will either tell you to go get the belt, or I will start to unbuckle my belt if I’m wearing one. When I start to unbuckle my belt, you are expected to pull down your pants, turn around, and bend over for me. If I have to tell you more than once then I will add at least ten strokes.”
I looked down at the floor, fully subdued by my step-mother’s threats.
“Look at me Cameron. I know this is embarrassing, but you have no one to blame but yourself.”
I looked up, and my eyes met with hers. The moonlight through the window reflected from her eyes. They were beautiful, and caring, yet determined. I could tell in an instant that she was not going to back down, or change her mind, either about the discipline I was to receive in the next few moments, or the punishments she would dish out later. I thought that eye contact with her might be too much to bear, but on the contrary it was comforting. Her gaze held me captive, and in that moment I realized fully that the situation I now found myself in was of my own doing, and this was the only path I had to redemption.
We stood there for a moment of two, silent. I swallowed hard and took a deep breath. She unfolded her arms and reached for her belt. It was wide, and thick like a man’s belt, with metal studs on the outside. She unbuckled it slowly, and pulled it through the loops on her jeans. I knew what I had to do next, but I was unable to bring myself to do it on my own.
She rolled about two thirds of the belt around her hand, and let about 12 inches of the leather dangle down. I realized how much that belt was going to hurt if she used the studded side. My eyes grew wide.
“Don’t worry,” she said shaking her head. “I’m gonna use the leather side. Now pull down your pants, and get back in position over the bed please.”
I didn’t even hesitate. The next few moments seemed to move in slow motion, and for some reason I remember them in vivid detail. I reached down and unbuckled my belt. My hands were shanking slightly as I unbuttoned my jeans, unzipped them and let them fall to my ankles. I turned toward the bed and bent back into position. I closed my eyes, and waited.
“Young man, if I have to go over there and pull down your underwear myself you’re getting 10 extra.”
I reached back and bared my bottom. By now the humiliation of Ashely’s disciplinary procedures were starting to feel less uncomfortable. I mean, it’s not like she hadn’t seen me naked before anyway. Just a year ago she had walked in on me getting a hand job from my girlfriend. A few months later she caught me masturbating on the sofa when I thought she wasn’t home. She grounded me for my “inability to control” my urges, and had a long talk with me about being responsible with my “needs” as she called them. All I had to do was bring up the noises I would hear coming from her bedroom in the middle of the night, and she suddenly lost interest in scolding me about my sexual habits. But I digress.
All that is to say that I guess I was coming to terms with a new normal. I even felt connected to Ashely in that moment in a way I never had – now that the wrongs were being made right, and I was submitting to her in such a vulnerable way.
I wish that moment of acceptance was enough to make the belt hurt less, but it was not. My moment of introspection was interrupted by the sharp sting of studded leather whipping across my naked flesh.
I gasped and reached back to cover my butt.
“One!” she said, raising her voice slightly.
I was caught up in the awfulness of the sting on my behind. I started to rub, until I realized what was happening.
“Two!” she said, almost shouting.
Oh shit! The counting thing! I realized I was in for extra if she counted to five. I quickly removed my hands and placed on the bed. I squeezed hard at the comforter, and awaited the inevitable.
The next whip came just as hard, and in the same spot only to be followed by several more. The first fulls of blanket in my hands were becoming damp as I squeezed even harder, trying desperately to hold still. Belt continued its assault on my backside. Ashely gave me a long series of consecutive strokes, and then began to spank me one stroke at a time in between lecturing. By that time the bed was a mess, and the comforter was bundled up beneath my face. It made for a good way to muffle my cries.
I can’t remember much of the lecture. I do recall her calling me a “disobedient, little brat” as she whipped me three times in sync with her shouting. So much for not disturbing the neighbors. The rest of the lecture consisted of threats to punish me again in the same way if my behavior persisted, and confessions of reluctance such as “I don’t like doing this to you, but if I have to whip every day for the next month, I swear to God, I will do it.”
That was by far the worst part of the whole ordeal. Being scolded was not pleasant, but that combined with having no idea when the next spank, or series of spanks was going to land was more than I could handle. I broke. I stopped moving around and I simply placed my chin on the comforter that was bundled up beneath me. With every stroke I cried out “I’m sorry!!” I knew that saying sorry was not going to earn me leniency. I said it out of genuine remorse. All of my shame, and anger seemed to be pouring out in my tears, and my pleading. It felt as if she was using the belt to drive out my demons. I had never submitted to anyone like that in my life. And as painful as it was, it was almost equally as liberating.
Finally, after what felt like an hour, but was probably only about five minutes, I heard her put the belt back around her waist. I breathed a deep sigh of relief.
“Well, it looks like somebody has learned how to take their punishment,” she said as I heard the belt buckle back into place.
I had no reply. I stayed in position and stared ahead, just hoping that my penance had finally been paid.
“You’re all done sweetie, you can get back up and put your pants back on.”
I stood up, and faced away from her as I attempted to retain some dignity.
As I composed myself I heard the bedroom door open, once again spilling the hallway light into the dimly lit room.
“I want you to go straight to your room and go to bed. For the next three days you are grounded. That means no phone, no internet, and no pleasuring yourself. In fact I’m going to require you to keep you bedroom door unlocked for the next three days so I can walk in and check on you at any time. Is that understood?”
I turned around to face her. I once would have been resentful of such a sentence, but somehow I felt at peace with it.
“Yes ma’am.” I replied.
“Good. Now go” she said sternly.
I walked past her and before I reached the hallway I felt the sharp smack of her hand on my bottom.
“I will be in there to check on you and make sure you’re following orders, so don’t get too comfortable,” she warned me as I reached my bedroom and opened the door.
As I got myself in bed, and as I lay there I felt as if a weight had been lifted off of my shoulders. There was no more facade. I didn’t have to be tough, or rebellious. I was cleansed, and forgiven. That night I slept peacefully, and woke up to the smell of breakfast cooking downstairs. I made my way down only to find Ashely in the best of spirits.
“Hi sweetie! Good morning!” she said standing at the stove and turning her head toward me. “Now I want you to go shower, and get dressed before breakfast this morning. It’ll be ready in a minute.”
My rebellious instincts kicked in, and I scoffed. Ashely turned from the stove and gave me a look that made my heart stop.
“Are we forgetting our manners? Do we need a reminder before breakfast or are you going to do as you’re told?”
Suddenly I remembered the previous evening, and all that had changed. I changed my attitude immediately.
“No, no!” I blurted out in a panicked voice. “I’ll do what you said.”
“Good boy.” She said, with a smile. “Now go.”
I did exactly as I was told.