Wednesday, January 9, 2013

First Spanking Story

For years I have enjoyed reading spanking stories.  Until now, I have never written any myself.  I have surprised myself today for several reasons:  1) Although I've been tempted to write a spanking fiction before, it never occured to me that I would first write a F/M story--especially since I have only realized I'm a switch fairly recently.  2) The following story was really the fantasy I was having while waiting for my alarm to go off this morning.  I usually begin my day with physical therapy exercises, then a little internet browsing.  Today, I made myself write this story first, before I could forget any of it. 3)  I was surprised at how much I enjoyed writing this.  I actually had to write it in two parts, because I wrote far more than I expected, and had to take a break to make it to a ballet class.  And 4) People have been trying to get me to write for a long time (I used to write elaborate letters, and send them to about 300 people around the country).  I'm really proud of what I've written.  I think it's better than I expected--I used a lot of metaphor, simile, alliteration...stuff I admire, but didn't think I had a knack for (The title's cheesey, but I LOVE alliteration).

I would love to hear comments (I'd love to know someone has read this)!

Big Boy Babysitter

Audrey arrived right on time, as expected—she was always punctual, and insisted on the same from me when she babysat.  She hung her coat on the door-hook, then turned and walked with me down the hall, past the kitchen, toward the living room, the whole while chatting idly with me about how I had been since she last saw me.  When she asked, “Have you been behaving?” I replied with a cheery, “Yes, Ma’am”.

Once she was seated comfortably on the living room couch, I finally worked up the nerve to ask my question.  “Miss Audrey, some of the guys are meeting at the diner around the corner…may I go out and play with them?”  I asked as politely as I could, to influence her decision.  She seemed a little surprised—perhaps put off—by the question.  It took her a moment to answer.  “I’m sorry, but the answer is no.  I’m here to baby-sit you tonight.  Why would I come over here, if you weren’t going to be here?  You and I can play together tonight, and you will have to meet ‘the guys’ some other time.”  Sulking, I plopped down in a chair, arms folded, and glowered downward.  The babysitter stared at me for a moment with a look that was half disbelief, half annoyance, then, with a little shake of her head, as if to clear her thoughts away, she rose and excused herself to the bathroom.

My ears pricked up as I heard the bathroom door click closed.  A dozen thoughts ran through my head, with an overlying theme of “Now’s My Chance”.  I silently padded to the front door, adjacent to the bathroom.  As quietly as I could, I lifted my coat from its hook on the door, then unlocked the top lock with a click.  Suddenly, the bathroom door flew open, and an arm shot out and grabbed me by my wrist.  Without a word, and without releasing my wrist, Audrey took my coat from my hand and hung it back up, while my face burned with embarrassment and the continued fearful surprise from being caught; then she marched back into the living room with me in tow.  I could feel her anger radiating from her body, as she physically placed me in the corner, none too gently.  I nervously listened to every sound, with my eyes glued to the corner, not daring to even make the slightest move.  Still not having uttered a single word, Audrey was moving around the room with purpose.  I heard the not-unfamiliar sounds of the coffee table’s being moved, and the armless dining chair’s being placed.  I could hear Audrey’s irate breathing, and feel the intensity of her movements.  When she angrily dropped herself down onto the chair, the only sounds left were her breathing, and my cannon-like, mile-a-minute heartbeat.

After a few terrifying, nerve slicing minutes of silence, she finally spoke.  “Come here!”  I had never heard so much anger in her voice.  I obeyed immediately and, knowing what was in store, came to stand on her right side.  She looked up at my face with the expression of a penultimate, pregnant thundercloud.  My cheeks burned with shame and trepidation, foreshadowing of another imminent burning of cheeks.  Her eyes bore into me with blazing anger, and just a touch of hurt.  I wanted to curl up and disappear into the cracks in the hardwood floor, but could not have torn my eyes from hers with a crowbar.  She finally spoke again, slowly and distinctly, but with a little tremor in her voice; “What did you ask me, when we came into the living room, right after I arrived?”  Somehow finding a semblance of my voice cowering in my stomach with the rampaging butterflies, I meekly replied, “…i-if I could go out and play with the guys…….” with a hastily added “Ma’am!”

“…And what was my answer?”

“Y-you told me n-no….Ma’am.”

“So what were you doing when I came out of the bathroom?”

“……….I……I was disobeying you, Ma’am”

“ You were disobeying me.” This sounded more hurt than angry.  She continued; “ you were choosing to do what I had specifically forbidden you to do.  Not only that, you were abandoning me!  You were going to leave me alone in your house, not knowing where you were or how to reach you.  How do you think that makes me feel?”


“I thought we were friends.  I trusted you.  Now, not only do I feel that I’ve failed as a babysitter, but I feel like a fool—I was foolish, thinking we were friends.  Friends trust each other, and care about each other.  You obviously care little about me if you were so cavalier about leaving me alone, the one night I’m here, to go play with your other friends, who you can see anytime”

“I do care about you…I’m so sorry!”  I could not have felt worse if my intestines were being slowly drawn from my body with shards of glass.  “Please…I didn’t mean to hurt your feelings!  I wasn’t thinking!  I’m so sorry!”  I was nearly in tears already.  “Please be my friend!”

The babysitter looked into my eyes for a long moment, then seemed to make up her mind about something.  She said, “It is going to take a lot to restore my trust, but I do believe you’re starting to feel sorry.”  She reached out and began to unbuckle my belt, then pulled it all the way out of the belt loops, which made my stomach drop like I’d just swallowed a bag of rocks, knowing what that meant.  She tossed the belt behind her, onto the couch.  I was wise enough to keep my arms at my sides as she began to unbutton my jeans, while saying, “Now we’re going to make sure you’re sorry!”  As she carefully lowered my zipper, she continued, “You will never choose to disobey me again!”  With one sharp tug she had my jeans down to my ankles.  Without a pause or a word, she immediately followed up by yanking my bikini underwear down to my knees.  I was already so ashamed of myself that I was unusually completely unaware of whether I had an erection or not, and made no attempt to cover up.  My shame compelled me to unhesitatingly lay myself across her lap, without her having to even imply it.  My spanking began immediately.

Miss Audrey’s hand began to sting my bottom before I even felt her move.  The well-deserved swats rained down like a monsoon, spanking anywhere from the top of my bottom, just below the tailbone, to the notorious “sit-spots” with no apparent logic, so I was never able to predict just where on my bottom they’d land, leaving me with no mental preparation for the sting.  While she did maintain a rhythm, she would change order:  sometimes alternating cheeks, sometimes clapping repeatedly in one white-hot spot before moving on, sometimes spanking up and down on the same cheek or crisscrossing them both. 

The wildfire on my bottom could have melted an igloo.  Just when I thought I could take absolutely no more, and began to wiggle and whimper, Miss Audrey suddenly stopped her assault on my burning behind.  “Stand up!” she simply said.  I would not have disobeyed her at that moment for a winning lottery ticket.  My hands glued to my sides, so they could not even begin to succumb to the temptation to rub out any of the ongoing flames behind me.  I strained to force my focus on my babysitter’s words, rather than my posterior’s predicament.  “Why are you being spanked?”  My strained, quivering voice replied, “I disobeyed you, tried to sneak out…and I hurt your feelings!”  She said, “The hand spanking you just received was for trying to sneak out, and we’ll deal with your hurting my feelings in a few moments.”  My eyes quickly darted to where Audrey had tossed my belt on the couch—I had forgotten about it, but now my bottom started to throb anew.  “Right now, we’re going to deal with your disobeying me.”  My soul quavered as I realized what exactly that meant.  I had thought we had just done that, my comprehension of her words delayed by the distraction of the belt, but I suddenly realized what was about to happen.  “It’s not enough that you disobeyed me.” she said, “It’s even worse that you chose to blatantly disobey my decision.  That was very disrespectful, and WILL NOT HAPPEN AGAIN!  Am I understood?”  I heard a meek “Yes Ma’am” before I realized the words were coming from my own mouth.  She replied by saying, “Go get the hairbrush!”

Without hesitation, I shuffled into my bedroom, pants still around my ankles and joined by my underwear at this point.  I retrieved the flat, square wooden hairbrush from my nightstand drawer, and returned as fast as my penguin gait could allow.  It wasn’t until I handed it, handle first, to her awaiting, outstretched hand, that it really sunk in that I was about to be branded by the hairbrush on my already emblazoned posterior.  It was at this point that I truly began to cry.  Seeing my tears, the babysitter said, “Do you understand just how naughty you have been?”  I nodded, tearfully.  “Do you think you have been punished enough for your behavior?”  Knowing the truth, I slowly shook my head ‘no’.  “Do you have anything to say to me?”  she asked.  After the kind of moment that lasts a lifetime, when you have to voice a truth; something you know, but wish to just hold inside, the releasing of which is intensely embarrassing to the point of painful; I replied, “I have been very naughty.  I treated you horribly, and I’m so very sorry.  I deserve a very, very hard spanking for what I’ve done, and the way I’ve treated you.  Please give me the spanking I deserve.”

Miss Audrey looked into my eyes for a moment.  She could see that I was sincere in my apology, in my regret and shame for how I’d acted, and in my acceptance of my impending punishment.  With a quick, almost invisible nod, I saw a slight change in her expression.  Some of the anger had dissipated.  Even so, I knew that I was still in for a severe spanking—and that belt was still looming in the not-so-distant future—but the change in her eyes indicated that I was beginning to be forgive; a feeling like a cool breeze on a warm day in a secluded, flowering glade.  This strengthened my affirmation of the spanking, almost making me eager to comply with her tacit command when she merely patted her awaiting lap.

For the second time that evening I silently and resignedly crawled across my babysitter’s lap, placing my unclad pelvis directly over her slightly parted legs.  Dropping my head, I was very aware of my hands and feet touching the ground, and of my naked flesh resting against the soft cotton skirt that covered her legs.  I was even more aware—frighteningly so—of my naked, unhappy bottom, quivering freely in the air as the highest point of my body, under my babysitter’s direct gaze.  The burning sensation tattooed all over my bottom had abated a little, but I could feel a pulsing of heat that matched my quick and heavy heartbeat.  I had a moment of utter ecstasy when the cool, flat wood suddenly but gently settled on my right buttock, sliding over to the left one; then time slowed waaaaaaay down, like the climb of a roller coaster’s highest hill before the first drop…

My mind and heart racing, I became ultra-aware of the slow motion scene.  I heard the hiss of Audrey’s intake of breath, and recognized it as the final breath she would take before searing pain would overtake me.  I felt the agonizingly slow movement of the hairbrush, as it lifted from my left buttock, raising high for its initial assault.  I felt the feminine muscles of Audrey’s beautiful legs move and tense, as her position painstakingly changed with the raising of her arm, and in preparation of counter-balancing when she would forcefully bring it back downward.  More than anything, I felt my heart pounding from my toes to my ears, as it tried to warn every atom of my body about what was about to happen.  There was a long pause, when the entire world seemed to stop whatever it was doing, to watch the hovering hairbrush held in her hand.  Then the rollercoaster passed its acme, and life picked up speed, following in time with the descending hairbrush.  By the time I heard the popping sound of impact, the universe had sped up beyond normal, and I didn’t feel the flash of fire in my bottom until another pop had already echoed through the room.  Apparently in a hurry, my body quickly caught up with what was happening, amplifying the delicate pain in my bottom to nearly unfathomable heights, blocking any awareness of the existence of anything beyond the repetitive, fiery explosions that seared through my body and soul.

After an exquisite eternity, I drifted slowly, shuddering back to reality.  Once again, I became aware of the hardwood floor beneath my hands and feet; my body too spent to even kick.  I felt again the weight of my body balanced on the cotton-clad legs.  I felt the waterfall of salty tears covering my face, and the small spasms of breath that shook my whole body through my sobs.  Suddenly, the realization struck me that there was no popping noise in my ears, no fiery brand bouncing on my  blazing bottom, but a gentle, cool palm, lightly resting on, and occasionally slightly squeezing the raw flesh.

“Stand up.”  The words sent an electric shock through my nervous system, which my brain eventually translated, forcing my body to respond and obey.  Once I was standing, Audrey reached down and wordlessly helped me untangle my jeans and underwear from my ankles.  “Go back to the corner, please.”  Despite what I’d just endured at her hand, my beautiful babysitter’s voice seemed angelic—proof that this was, indeed, reality.  I walked to the corner, naked from the waist down, and crossed my hands behind my back, grasping my forearms as I knew Audrey preferred, light sobs still bubbling through my mouth.  “Stay there until I come get you” she commanded, redundantly, “and then we’ll finish your spanking.”  With these words, ice slid down my spine, to be immediately melted by the throbbing inferno below.  Audrey left the room.

What felt like hours elapsed.  Tears dried, burning eased, throbbing receded back into a normal heartbeat.  Then, out of the silence, Audrey’s voice rang out.  “Are you ready?” she asked.  I was still reeling from the shock of hearing her voice, when I hadn’t been aware of her reentering the room, but managed a weak, “Yes, Ma’am.”  I felt her hand on my arm, and let her lead me back to the fear-reigniting punishment chair.  “Place your knees on the seat, as far apart as you can.  Wrap your arms around the back of the chair, and arch your back, so your bottom is out.”  Shaking, I did as she instructed.  Once in position, I heard the clinking of the belt buckle, as she picked it up from the sofa and wrapped it around her hand several times, leaving one end loose, rather than making a loop. 

“You’re going to count these, and thank me for each one.  If you fail to do so, we will repeat the stroke.  If you lose count, we will start over until you get it right.”  These were all statements, not questions.  She expected no answers, and I remained silent, awaiting the onset of my final punishment, acutely aware that ALL of my body’s most private spots were on display to my disciplinarian babysitter.


ONE, thank you Miss Audrey!”


“TWO, thank you…..Miss Audrey!”

The lashing of the belt continued, and my tears began to flow again—not with heaving sobs, but smoothly, as I contemplated how I’d hurt my lovely babysitter’s feelings, and accepted my punishment.

“NINETEEN……owww….thank…thank you Miss Audrey!”


“OWWW….TWENTY….thank you….Miss Audrey!”

“Back to the corner, please.”  Despite the throbbing welts I could feel, I noticed that there was no anger in her voice any longer.  This instilled a new fear in me:  was I forgiven, or did she not care anymore?  She hadn’t reiterated the reason for this part of my spanking, as she usually would.  She hadn’t really spoken at all, other than the few commands.  Had she given up on me?  Had I disappointed her beyond salvaging?  Standing in the corner, my tears continued to flow unabated as I increasingly continued to worry.  Finally, I could take the hideous silence no longer, peeked my head at her, still seated in the punishment chair, and ventured, “M-Miss Audrey…?”

“Yes, Sweetie?”  The word gave me a flash of hope, that enabled me to continue, turning somewhat to face her.

“I’m so sorry I hurt your feelings…can you ever forgive me?”

The lilt of her light chuckle surprised me.  “Of course!  You’ve just been punished for what you did wrong—the mistakes you chose to make.  I forgive you.”

My lip began quivering as tears surged again.  “May I have a hug?”

Despite the unusually abbreviated cornertime, the babysitter opened her arms, which I rushed to fill!  Sitting astride her lap, oblivious to the awkwardness that my nudity would normally insinuate, I wrapped my arms tightly around her, my chin on her shoulder as my tears  dropped down her back.  She gracefully and lovingly reached her arms around me, her right hand drifting down to lightly caress my surely scarlet, bare bottom.  “I love you, Miss Audrey!” I whispered.  “I love you too, Sweetie.” she replied, causing my arms to restrict around her just a little bit more.

We remained entwined like this for a heavenly eternity, until Audrey finally said, “Let’s get you ready for bed.”  I begrudgingly released her from my anaconda embrace, and stood from her lap.  She walked me to the bathroom, where she watched me floss and brush my teeth, a slight smile on her face and a twinkle in her eye.  She left to go rearrange the living room, as I finished up in the bathroom.  When I entered the bedroom, yawning, worn out from the evening’s excitement, she smiled broadly and helped me take off my shirt.  She helped me lie down on my turned-down bed, giving me a sweet kiss on my forehead in the process.  I rolled onto my stomach, of course.  She bent down and gave me a gentle kiss on each curve of my bottom, just before she lithely covered me with the sheet and blanket.  With my eyes closed, I heard the light click off, then a soft, “Goodnight, Sweetie.”  I never heard her walk down the hall, put on her coat, or leave, locking the door behind her.  All I was aware of, as I drifted off to sleep, was the two tingles of loveliness where she had left them…


  1. yes, a very nice story. your way with words illustrate the story as well as any picture. i had a couple of baby sitters when i was growing up. they all beliec=ved in the use of the hairbrush but then that was the normal way to raise a child. i grew up in the 40's and 50's. i believed that i was in love with some of them and others i ued to just say i am tired, i think i will turn in early which sometimes lead to questioning as to why i would want to do that and then sometimes a spanking any how. keep up the good work

  2. I can't remember ever having a babysitter at all. It never occured to me as a kid, but now I kind of wish I HAD.