The Romance of Chastisement

The Romance of Chastisement

Sunday, February 16, 2014

F/M Guest author---James Sondance

 James Sondance is another one of those authors who wrote in the early days of the internet. He probably posted to SSS on Usenet, but I can't be sure of that. He was at any rate, one of those writers of F/M material who had an instinctive feel for the genre. His characters are adults but there is a distinctive age-play vibe that permeates his writing. He is all about domestic discipline. There are no leather-clad dominatrices in any of his stories.
James stopped writing years ago, probably around 2000, but I'm not sure of the dates either. At any rate you cannot find him at LSF or on any of the storyboards at least as far as I know.

This story is a real gem and concerns the sexual awakening of a novice disciplinarian doing a favor for a friend.


Angelica was all dressed up to catch the airplane so I'd made breakfast. She really looked good. A black suit matched the shoulder length hair. Frilly blouse to disguise Angie's weak point, -- small breasts, and a skirt which was enough to reveal her best, -- the long shapely legs.
I got up to pour more coffee. Angie had pushed her chair back and my eyes fastened onto pretty knees. Angie saw me stare, gave me a smile, but then very calmly said, "Go get the paddle. There's just enough time before we leave for the airport."

I could not believe I was to be punished for a glance at nylon. I was her live-in lover. But in the 16 months I had shared Angie's house trailer, I had learned that domestic discipline was her department. Angie's mother had taught her that in her own house a woman is boss. Angie had had frequent reminders of that, not as often as her brothers maybe, but she still treated her mother with deference when we went over there to supper, and I had a strong impression that even her dad knew what it was like to be put over his wife's fat thighs. At any rate, the trailer was Angie's house. I shared it only on the understanding that I mind her, submit to the same kind of discipline her mother imposed on any kid of any age who still lived in her house.
I find it horribly humiliating to be required to drop my trousers and lie across pretty knees for a spanking. Angie does that as conscientiously as she does everything else. She has never been able to find an old fashioned hairbrush like her mother's but she has a little paddle with which she effectively makes me resolve to behave.

 Sometimes also the resolve is to find another girl friend with a more modern outlook, but Angie is a lovely woman, a fabulous cook and an exciting companion in and out of bed. Thoughts of leaving are confined to a few minutes during and after a spanking and vanish as soon as Angie commences her special brand of comfort. However, when Angie announced a paddling that morning, I was not aware of any wrong doing, had a wild thought of stalling until there wasn't enough time before we left for the airport. But instantly thought better of it. Angie always claimed that her mother NEVER relented after pronouncing sentence, and Angie never did either. Arguing with her only meant I would still get the licking and it would be much harder when it came. If I managed to delay until she could not take time to do it before leaving, my lady would merely push it back two weeks on her agenda and take care of the matter, with interest, when she returned from New York. So I resignedly headed for our bedroom and the lingerie drawer where she kept the paddle. When I returned Angie had taken off her jacket, was sitting with skirt pulled up so I would not wrinkle it. I noticed that in her hurry she had neglected to close the window behind her.
Angie patted her thigh as sign I was to take the naughty boy position. I flopped over her lap and mindful of the open window, resolved to make no noise.

As a general rule Angie will wait until I am across her knees and then scold for a long time before she spanks. It is extremely effective. I LISTEN to what she says, start good resolves before the punishment even begins. Not this time. The paddle smacked down at once. Then a slow rain of hard cracks to one side then the other. You never get used to it. The terrible singeing burning of that little piece of wood always comes as a shock. As always I started a frantic recitation in foolish hope of mitigating the punishment. "I'm sorry, Angie. I won't do it again. I'll behave. I won't be naughty any more." The paddle elicited helpless OWS and OUCHES each time it descended. I had no idea why I was being reprimanded, assured Angie, "You're killing my bottom. I won't be able to sit. Please stop spanking me. I'll be good! I won't upset you any more." There was neither explanation nor surcease. Angie's remorseless paddle kept on punishing my cheeks. My howls got louder. I did not care who heard what. The trailer echoed with my cries and the urgent spick spack spick of the paddle.

When satisfied that she had done her customary thorough job, my girl friend put the paddle down. "That was to make sure you behave while I'm gone," she said. "You won't be in any hurry to flash your bottom at some hussy. You may get up and dress."
"Angie, what other woman would I want?" My voice was tearful and sincere.
"None! You'd better not!"
"I won't."
"That's right.......I asked Bertha to come over and cook a few meals for you. Be nice to her. Don't give her any trouble."

What trouble would I give fat Bertha? Bertha is our next door neighbor and Angie's best friend. The girls are forever visiting one another. I always found Bertha pleasant enough but certainly not sexy, never paid much attention to her. I suspected that Bertha knew how Angie "managed" me. My girl would invariably have to go over and confer with Bertha after punishing me. I even imagined our neighbor eyed my backside on a day when Angie had reddened it. Of course women tell each other everything but it embarrassed me to think of Angie telling Bertha just how loud I'd howled when over her lap and how I'd kicked and all the little details. If anyone over the age of five is going to be spanked, they should be entitled to know the ceremony is private at least. But getting the licking in front of the open window, just a few feet from Bertha's trailer, made it about as private as if Angie had done it out on the sidewalk. I hoped Bertha would not be home, grabbed Angie's bag and took it out to the car so I could sneak a look at her trailer. Bertha's little car was on the driveway, front door open to the screen. Without any doubt Angie's spinster friend had heard the whole thing.

Angelica drove on the way to the airport, leaving me to try to find a comfortable position. As was her way there was no mention of the humiliating pre-departure scene. Angie stopped at the sidewalk baggage handler, gave me a quick kiss and slid out from under the wheel. A minute later all eyes were upon her trim figure disappearing through the electric doors.

I had an urgent appointment on the way home. I'd promised myself a secret treat as soon as Angie left and several days ago had made a date with a favorite masseuse. Ten minutes later I parked in front of Fiona's Health Parlor and Fiona greeted me with the usual kiss. Fiona is almost Medicare age but boasts a still lovely figure and a beautiful face. I've known her a long time and we have no secrets from each other. She tells me about her boy friend and is the only person in the world I have told how Angie disciplines me. Fiona led the way to her massage room, stood watching with professional detachment as I removed all my clothes. "Not the usual today, Fiona," I said.

"How come?"
"Angelica did it again." I turned my back. "I can hardly sit down."
"Don't know why I should comfort a naughty boy. I should spank you myself instead." But she was smiling and in a few minutes I was face down on the table with a hot wet towel on the sore place. Fiona followed the towel with a stroking massage. More towel; more massage. She wound up with a liberal application of skin cream which felt wonderful. I thankfully paid her and left.

Back at the trailer there was a visitor: Bertha. She was dressed up like she was going to church. Bertha is the same age as Angelica and about the same height but there the resemblance stops. Where Angie is slender, Bertha is stocky: Big breasts which need no padding; imposing behind; legs shapely with full calves; a plump, blonde, blue eyed, German girl.
Bertha looked excited. A faint blush on the fair complexion made her quite pretty for once. Of course the crisp blouse, snug skirt, dark heels and hose helped. "I made lunch for you," Bertha said. "Angie said you would come directly home from the airport."

"I had to make a stop, Bertha." I wasn't about to tell Angie's friend where I'd stopped.

"Sit down. I'll serve you. I've had my lunch." Bertha's heels clicked back and forth from the kitchen. I watched the tight skirt as she withdrew. Ample buttocks jiggled excitingly. On the way back unfettered breasts bobbed and gave me outlaw thoughts of big mammaries and large nipples. She stood close to serve me and once, bending over to mop up a spill, unconsciously afforded a view which made me want to reach down into that warm valley. Angie had told me her friend was an unused virgin or I might have been tempted to try my luck.

When the meal was over I leaned back and paid a sincere compliment. "That was delicious, Bertha. Thank you." The harmless compliment deepened the blush. Bertha was nervous about something. She cleared the table, came back, turned beet red and said, "Angie asked me to look after you."

"Thank you, Bertha. I can cook. I'm still a bachelor."

"She didn't mean cooking."

"What did she mean then?"

Bertha blurted it out. "I'm supposed to see that you behave."

Looking at Bertha's serious face I had an uneasy feeling. Wonder if the open window that morning had really been an oversight? Could Angie have wanted to show her friend just how to "see that I behave?" And that the reason for the pink complexion? But the thought of a spanking from Bertha made me laugh out loud. Even a cloistered virgin would know that kind of punishment had to be on bare skin. If she had ears she'd be able to tell from the sound that there had been nothing between Angie's paddle and my bottom that morning. There was no way to expose my rear for a licking without putting some very private male anatomy on view. I was safe from that kind of reprimand from Bertha. No bashful virgin lady could ever be that immodest. Reassured, I started to tease. "What will you do about it if I don't, Bertha?"

"I know what Angie does," she said soberly.
"I thought Angie had been telling you."
"She wouldn't have had to tell me."
"You've heard her?"
"I've heard YOU!"

I knew what she meant. I was never silent when Angie applied the wood, and thin trailer walls are no proof against yells. "You heard this morning?"
"Certainly I heard. I heard a naughty boy promise Angie to be good too."
"Angelica makes me mind, Bertha."
"You are supposed to mind me the same way you do her."
"Yes, Bertha." My tone was mocking.
"And address me the same way you do her."
"Yes mama." Sarcastic!
"Yes, Aunt Bertha!" She said.
"Yes, Aunt Bertha."
"Or you'll be sorry!"

I did not reply. Bashful neighbor was making threats of a very specific nature. Could it be that even virgins have maternal instincts? Bertha blurted out her next speech as if rehearsed. "I want you to drop your trousers and show me your heinder. So I will know how red Angie turns you!" Blushing maiden had turned into self assured woman! She was giving me orders,expected to be obeyed! Was that her idea or Angie's? Bertha answered the question. "Mind me. Angie said you had to."

Hoping it would thoroughly shock the lady, I, rose, turned my back, boldly dropped pants and shorts to my knees, lifted shirt tails to provide an unimpeded view. There should have been embarrassment. A shriek. Abrupt retreat maybe? Instead Bertha calmly said, "Why you're not even red! Back up here to me!"

Damn! I'd forgotten Fiona's efforts. They always dissipated both burning and redness. I reluctantly reversed and questioning finger tips touched me. "What is this smeared on your skin? You didn't have a chance to put it on. Who did?" There had been an error in my assessment of the situation! A serious one! I was just as bare to Bertha as ever for Angelica and it didn't upset her one bit. Her voice sounded like Angelica's and she was asking sharp questions! What she called my 'heinder' was beginning to tingle in expectation. When Bertha learned about Fiona, she might even think she should put me across her lap! I couldn't even think of a plausible lie, confessed like a school kid, "Fiona did."

"Who is Fiona?"
"A masseuse I go to."
"Does Angelica know about her."
"Angelica wanted your bottom to stay red. You deliberately disobeyed her."
"I guess so, Bertha........I mean Aunt Bertha."
"You promise to behave and ten minutes after Angie leaves your pants are off! Get dressed. We're going to my trailer. Maybe you don't keep promises but I do! I promised Angie to keep an eye on you."

So I was to be taken to the German lady's trailer so she could keep a maternal eye on me! Probably not let me out of her sight? Better than another licking anyway. Could be a lot better. Bertha is a pastry cook. A weekend of German chocolate cake and I would waddle off to work on Monday morning. Anyway there was no doubt Angie would get a full report when she came back. Maybe I could charm Bertha out of telling her about my masseuse? I sheepishly resumed my clothing, then she led the way. Neighbors may have thought I looked like a little boy being taken home by his mother? I felt like one. Bertha's back was stiff. The generous buttocks which were so inviting as she'd served lunch now pounded out a different message: '!!' Bertha was not going to put me across her knee but it did look as if I was to be restricted to quarters. It wouldn't be on bread and water anyway.

In her trailer Bertha closed and locked the door. She got busy checking that windows were closed, drew the curtains and turned on lights. I fully expected to hear, "Can I offer you something to drink?" But she wasn't smiling. Maybe I'd be sent to 'my room'? I'd never been in her house before and looked around with interest. Apparently the rig had been custom made for her. There was a breakfast bar but instead of being the usual 3 feet high it was more like four. And wide. Bertha must use it for meals, working, everything. The polished oak surface gleamed. As did everything else in that immaculate home. Trying to placate my hostess, I paid Bertha a compliment which was perfectly sincere, "It's lovely in here, Bertha."

She smiled and returned the politeness. "Thank you. Will you excuse me for a minute? I'll be right back." She withdrew to her bedroom.

It was obvious enough that the lady intended to keep me under close surveillance but was going to make it as pleasant as possible. She'd come out in a few minutes wearing some kind of negligee and offer to play gin rummy. I could think of another game I'd rather play in the privacy of her house and smiled at the thought. But just then she popped right back out. She was carrying a whippy little cane. "I don't see what you have to be smiling about. Have you forgotten that you have to mind me or get in trouble with Angelica?"

"I've done it haven't I, Bertha? I came here when you told me to." The cane chastened me. She could bend me over and stripe my butt without any more exposure than she'd already seen. I hadn't thought of that.
"You don't seem to know why you're here?"
"So you can keep an eye on me? So I can't visit my friend? I wasn't going to anyway, Bertha."
"But you already have. That's the point."
"Yes I did."
"You have to be punished for it."
"You mean when Angelica comes back? You're going to tell her?"
"No I am not going to tell her. I am going to punish you myself."
"Bertha! You don't mean it!"
"I certainly do mean it. Either that or you'll be looking for a new girl friend when I tell her how you couldn't wait to see her off and dash over to your nasty friend."

That part was undoubtedly true. Angelica would not consider my venture a harmless peccadillo. The dark Italian eyes would flash. I'd find my clothes on the street. I made a plea bargain. More plea than bargain. "Keep my secret, Bertha, and I will submit to whatever punishment you see fit."

"How would you like me to bend you over that counter and whip you with this cane?"
That was what I had been afraid of hearing. I became desperate. "Not with the cane, please, Bertha? Do it with your hand? Or a hairbrush even? I'll mind you. I'll do everything you say."
"Take your shoes off. And your pants and your shorts."
"Off, Aunt Bertha?"
"What did I say?"
"You said off."
"Do it then."

Clad only in socks and a shirt I felt horribly vulnerable, wished I had not so confidently challenged Bertha. I stood in the middle of the small living room not knowing which way to turn. Shirt tails covered me front and rear but I was getting the impression that modesty, my modesty at least, was of no import to Bertha when discipline was on her mind. A bare bottom had not impressed her and she had not averted her eyes as I was undressing. I heard Bertha sit on the couch behind me, half turned in expectation of being ordered over her knees. Instead a calm voice asked, "Where else did this wonderful friend of yours massage you? Turn around here so I can see."

In the narrow aisle Bertha matter of factly lifted a shirt tail and inspected a flaccid member. "I thought penises were hard and stuck out in front," she queried.
"Not when I'm about to get a spanking, Bertha." But just then the inspection began to take effect. My penis swelled. Bertha hastily dropped the shirt tails, acting like a bashful virgin for once. Stern guardian became a curious little girl. "What made it do that?"

"You did, Bertha."
"Just looking at it?"
"Somebody like you looking at it." It was meant as a clumsy compliment. Maybe Bertha could be diverted into something which would be a lot more fun than a spanking? But that foolish hope died you. "Will it still be like that after I spank you?"
"No it won't, Aunt Bertha." I was back in the naughty boy role where she wanted me.

"Go lie across that counter on your stomach."
I am not overly tall. But Angie and Bertha are. I had to pull myself up over the counter and feet did not touch the floor. I reached out and took a firm grip of the edge, closed my eyes. "Not with the cane, aunt Bertha," I begged.
"Are you going to mind me?"
Yes mam, I am. I'll do whatever you say." My Guardian was hipped on obedience.
"You have to be punished for being so naughty. I want you to stay right where you are until I say you may get down."
"Yes mam. I will."
"You are going to get a sound spanking."
"Yes Aunt Bertha."
"Then you are going straight to bed."
"Yes aunt Bertha."
"Right here. I'm going to keep an eye on you."
"Yes aunt Bertha."
"Stay there. I will tend to you in a minute."

Bertha walked around to the kitchen side of the counter. My bare buttocks were handy and waiting. I heard her open a drawer, rattle implements. I expected to feel a stirring paddle on my behind any second. She left me and went into the bedroom. To put the cane away I hoped. She had not said she would not use it. But she couldn't claim I was refusing to mind. After an agonizing wait her heels approached. She put a hand on the small of my back and played a new role. "Auntie does not like to have to spank her little nephew but you have been a very bad boy."

It was confusing. I'd thought a licking from her was out of the question but here I was bare and ready. I'd been reduced to hoping only that it would not be with the cane, did not know but what it would. I was perilously perched on her high counter with no recourse but to obediently accept whatever came. And Bertha was playing games! One role after another! First she had been Stern Guardian; then it was Gracious Hostess; Curious Virgin when she looked at me; and now Fond Aunt Who Hates to Punish! I had no option than to play my part, responded with a dutiful, "I'm sorry I was bad, aunt Bertha."

There was no reply. Bertha carefully lifted the shirt tail which had been inadequately covering me. I was nude from waist to toes with the spanking part presented to her on a platter. Legs were free and I knew they would kick wildly when Bertha began. I could not see her, could only hold on and wait. I hoped I would not disgrace myself but was much afraid I would be bawling and kicking when the stern lady started with whatever she was holding in her hand.

"Are you wishing you had not been so naughty?"
"I surely am, aunt Bertha." I wondered if she knew how sincerely I meant it? Right then I wished I had never heard of Fiona.
"Are you going to obey me just like you do Angie?"
"Yes mam. I'll mind you. I'll do everything you tell me to. I will obey you, Bertha."
"Very well. Then I'll spank you across my knee this time. Get down."

It was a relief to slide off the high perch. Somehow the position seemed made for application of canes, stirring paddles etc. Bertha might do it just as hard over her knee but it would not be so impersonal. At least the big lady would be holding me even if it was on her lap to be punished. By the time I was back on my feet, Bertha had pulled out a kitchen chair and was sitting on it waiting. She had swept her dress up and I saw big thighs, stockings held up by straining garters. The confident way she had taken me in hand dispelled any notion that the virgin lady would be either unable or unwilling to punish me in a memorable fashion. She pointed an imperious finger to her lap. Wishing to prove I was a model of obedience, I immediately spread over the big lap and scooted forward until my bottom was well up in the air. I was as handily presented for correction as over the counter. Staring at the carpet there was a much different attitude from the laughing defiance of a few minutes before. My only hope was that Bertha would respond to my tractability by doing it with her hand and maybe not too hard.

Bertha began to spank. Her gentle reprimand was not in it with Angie's. She landed a few slaps on my behind, paused, said, "Bad boy," and landed another dozen pats. "Unruly child," she pronounced and another twelve. "That was very naughty of you," more mild spanks. "Aunt Bertha is very disappointed in you," and her palm came down. There was a series of questions, each one followed by more spanking so that answers were superfluous. "Do you think you can behave? Isn't it a shame that a big boy like you has to be put over Auntie's knee? Does it take a red heinder before you can be good?" Then Bertha switched to statements of fact, again each punctuated by more licking so it would sink in. "Don't think aunt Bertha won't spank you. I'll give you what a naughty boy needs. I'll put you across my knee as often as you need it. You won't be able to sit down when I finish with you." The comments sounded more like something she had read than what she really believed. The spankings she interposed were hardly more sincere. But they went on and on....

The lengthy reprimand was more effective than Angelica's quick dust-offs. Being on Bertha's lap, scolded and spanked, was convincing even if the spanking was not dreadful. Bertha kept me over her knee and continued the reprimand for a long time, - ten minutes probably, or even more. The longer it went on the more I felt like a little child. Not punished boy friend as with Angelica. A little boy who had been bad and was being justly whipped for it. I whispered regrets and apologies to the carpet and they were sincere. It HAD been naughty to secretly visit Fiona. Bertha said so. I deserved what I was getting. I would not do it again. I wondered how long Bertha was going to keep me on her knees?

"Are you going to be good?" Bertha had stopped to hear the answer.
"Yes, yes, Aunt Bertha."
"Mind me?"
"Yes, yes. I will aunt Bertha."
"You may get up. Go lie down on my bed. Leave your trousers here. You will not need them again today."

Lying on Bertha's clean bed sans trousers, I fell asleep. I half awoke aware that Bertha was sitting on the bed and I had snuggled up against a motherly hip. She saw that I was awake. "I'm the one who needs a spanking now," she said mournfully.
"How come?"
"Spanking you gave me terribly naughty thoughts."
"What naughty thoughts, Bertha?"

There was no answer. Bertha hung her head. Her face got red. As if such wantoness was unheard of. I gently pulled her down on the bed beside me, lay down with her and held her close. It was an unerotic hug,-at first. She did not stir and I let my eager hand pat the big rump. Before long it seemed only natural to reach under her dress and pat panties, and soon the other hand was gingerly touching big breasts. "Stand up, honey," I said at last. "Let me help you undress." Bertha obeyed as if in a daze but when two nude figures were back on the bed, instinct took over. I had not intended to let it go further than touching but half an hour later she was making it clear with words and actions that we were to finish the game. I was gentle and slow but the virgin became a wildcat. In a few minutes her face suffused in silent climax and I followed within seconds.

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